My reflections during the journey were not very agreeable. According to
the value of money at that time my loss was of some importance. I could
not but admit to myself that my conduct at the inn at Simbirsk had been
very silly, and I felt guilty toward Saveliitch. The old man was seated
on the front of the vehicle in dull silence; from time to time turning
his head and coughing a cough of ill humor. I had firmly resolved to
make friends with him, but I did not know which way to begin. At last I
said to him, “Come, come Saveliitch, let us put an end to this; I know I
was wrong; I was a fool yesterday, and offended you without cause, but
I promise to listen to you in future. Come, do not be angry, let us make
friends!”
“Ah! My dear Peter,” said he with a sigh, “I am angry with myself. It’s
I who was wrong in every thing. How could I have left you alone at
the inn? How could it have been avoided? The devil had a hand in it! I
wanted to go and see the deacon’s wife, who is my god-mother, and as the
proverb says: ‘I left the house and fell into the prison.’”
What a misfortune! what a misfortune! How can I appear before the eyes
of my masters? What will they say, when they shall hear that their child
is a drunkard and a gambler. To console dear old Saveliitch, I gave
him my word, that for the future I would not dispose of single kopeck
without his consent. Little by little he became calm, which did not,
however, prevent him from grumbling out, now and then shaking his head:
“A hundred roubles! It is easy to talk!”
I drew near the place of my destination. Around me extended a desert,
sad and wild, broken be little hills and deep ravines, all covered with
snow. The sun was setting.
My kibitka followed the narrow road, or rather trace, left by peasants’
sledges. Suddenly my coachman, looking at a certain point and addressing
me, “My lord,” said he, taking off his cap, “do you not command us to
retrace our steps?”
“What for?”
“The weather is uncertain. There is some wind ahead; do you see it drive
the snow on the surface?”
“What matter?”
“And do you not see what is over yonder?” pointing with his whip to the
east.
“I see nothing more than the white steppes and the clear sky.”
“There! there! that little cloud!”
I saw indeed upon the horizon a little white cloud that I had at first
taken for a distant hill. My coachman explained to me that this little
cloud foretold a _chasse-neige_--a snowdrift. I had heard of the
drifting snows of this region, and I know that at times, storms
swallowed up whole caravans. Saveliitch agreed with the coachman, and
advised our return.
But to me the wind did not seem very strong. I hoped to arrive in time
for the next relay of horses. I gave orders, therefore, to redouble our
speed. The coachman put his horses to the gallop, and kept his eyes to
the east.
The wind blew harder and harder. The little cloud soon became a great
white mass, rising heavily, growing, extending, and finally invading the
whole sky. A fine snow began to fall, which suddenly changed to immense
flakes. The wind whistled and howled. It was a _chasse-neige_--a
snowdrift.
In an instant the somber sky was confounded with the sea of snow which
the wind raised up from the earth. Every thing was indistinguishable.
“Woe, to us! my lord,” cried the coachman, “it is a whirlwind of snow!”
I put my head out of the kibitka--darkness and storm. The wind blew with
an expression so ferocious that it seemed a living creature.
The snow fell in large flakes upon us, covering us. The horses went at a
walking pace, but very soon stood still.
“Why do you not go on?” I said to the coachman.
“Go where?” he replied, as he got down from the kibitka. “God knows
where we are now! There is no road; all is darkness.”