If Kholstomír remembered any thing that night, it was the frolic that
Vaska gave him. He threw over him a blanket, and galloped off. He was
left till morning at the door of a tavern, with a muzhík's horse. They
licked each other. When it became light he went back to the herd, and
itched all over.
"Something makes me itch fearfully," he thought.