The stable was at the very end of the courtyard; one wall faced the open
country. Tchertop-hanov could not at once fit the key into the lock--his
hands were shaking--and he did not immediately turn the key.... He stood
motionless, holding his breath; if only something would stir inside!
'Malek! Malek!' he cried, in a low voice: the silence of death!
Tchertop-hanov unconsciously jogged the key; the door creaked and
opened.... So, it was not locked. He stepped over the threshold, and
again called his horse; this time by his full name, Malek-Adel! But no
response came from his faithful companion; only a mouse rustled in the
straw. Then Tchertop-hanov rushed into one of the three horse-boxes in
the stable in which Malek-Adel was put. He went straight to the
horse-box, though it was pitch-dark around.... Empty! Tchertop-hanov's
head went round; it seemed as though a bell was booming in his brain. He
tried to say something, but only brought out a sort of hiss; and
fumbling with his hands above, below, on all sides, breathless, with
shaking knees, he made his way from one horse-box to another... to a
third, full almost to the top with hay; stumbled against one wall, and
then the other; fell down, rolled over on his head, got up, and suddenly
ran headlong through the half-open door into the courtyard....
'Stolen! Perfishka! Perfishka! Stolen!' he yelled at the top of his
voice.
The groom Perfishka flew head-over-heels out of the loft where he slept,
with only his shirt on....
Like drunk men they ran against one another, the master and his solitary
servant, in the middle of the courtyard; like madmen they turned round
each other. The master could not explain what was the matter; nor could
the servant make out what was wanted of him. 'Woe! woe!' wailed
Tchertop-hanov. 'Woe! woe!' the groom repeated after him. 'A lantern!
here! light a lantern! Light! light!' broke at last from
Tchertop-hanov's fainting lips. Perfishka rushed into the house.
But to light the lantern, to get fire, was not easy; lucifer matches
were regarded as a rarity in those days in Russia; the last embers had
long ago gone out in the kitchen; flint and steel were not quickly
found, and they did not work well. Gnashing his teeth, Tchertop-hanov
snatched them out of the hands of the flustered Perfishka, and began
striking a light himself; the sparks fell in abundance, in still greater
abundance fell curses, and even groans; but the tinder either did not
catch or went out again, in spite of the united efforts of four swollen
cheeks and lips to blow it into a flame! At last, in five minutes, not
sooner, a bit of tallow candle was alight at the bottom of a battered
lantern; and Tchertop-hanov, accompanied by Perfishka, dashed into the
stable, lifted the lantern above his head, looked round....
All empty!
He bounded out into the courtyard, ran up and down it in all
directions--no horse anywhere! The hurdle-fence, enclosing Panteley
Eremyitch's yard, had long been dilapidated, and in many places was bent
and lying on the ground.... Beside the stable, it had been completely
levelled for a good yard's width. Perfishka pointed this spot out to
Tchertop-hanov.
'Master! look here; this wasn't like this to-day. And see the ends of
the uprights sticking out of the ground; that means someone has pulled
them out.'
Tchertop-hanov ran up with the lantern, moved it about over the
ground....
'Hoofs, hoofs, prints of horse-shoes, fresh prints!' he muttered,
speaking hurriedly.' They took him through here, through here!'
He instantly leaped over the fence, and with a shout, 'Malek-Adel!
Malek-Adel!' he ran straight into the open country.
Perfishka remained standing bewildered at the fence. The ring of light
from the lantern was soon lost to his eyes, swallowed up in the dense
darkness of a starless, moonless night.
Fainter and fainter came the sound of the despairing cries of
Tchertop-hanov....