'Middle-aged--a steady man.'
'And what was he like? What did he look like? A cunning rascal, I
expect?'
'Sure to have been a rascal, your ex-shelency.'
'And, I say, what did he say, this rascal?--had he had the horse long?'
'I recollect he said he'd had it a long while.'
'Well, then, no one could have stolen him but he! Consider it yourself,
listen, stand here!... What's your name?'
The Jew started and turned his little black eyes upon Tchertop-hanov.
'What's my name?'
'Yes, yes; what are you called?'
'Moshel Leyba.'
'Well, judge then, Moshel Leyba, my friend--you're a man of sense--whom
would Malek-Adel have allowed to touch him except his old master? You
see he must have saddled him and bridled him and taken off his
cloth--there it is lying on the hay!... and made all his arrangements
simply as if he were at home! Why, anyone except his master, Malek-Adel
would have trampled under foot! He'd have raised such a din, he'd have
roused the whole village? Do you agree with me?'
'I agree, I agree, your ex-shelency.'...
'Well, then, it follows that first of all we must find this Cossack!'
'But how are we to find him, your ex-shelency? I have only seen him one
little time in my life, and where is he now, and what's his name? Alack,
alack!' added the Jew, shaking the long curls over his ears sorrowfully.
'Leyba!' shouted Tchertop-hanov suddenly; 'Leyba, look at me! You see
I've lost my senses; I'm not myself!... I shall lay hands on myself if
you don't come to my aid!'
'But how can I?'...
'Come with me, and let us find the thief.'
'But where shall we go?'
'We'll go to the fairs, the highways and by-ways, to the horse-stealers,
to towns and villages and hamlets--everywhere, everywhere! And don't
trouble about money; I've come into a fortune, brother! I'll spend my
last farthing, but I'll get my darling back! And he shan't escape us,
our enemy, the Cossack! Where he goes we'll go! If he's hidden in the
earth we'll follow him! If he's gone to the devil, we'll follow him to
Satan himself!'
'Oh, why to Satan?' observed the Jew; 'we can do without him.'
'Leyba!' Tchertop-hanov went on; 'Leyba, though you're a Jew, and your
creed's an accursed one, you've a soul better than many a Christian
soul! Have pity on me! I can't go alone; alone I can never carry the
thing through. I'm a hot-headed fellow, but you've a brain--a brain
worth its weight in gold! Your race are like that; you succeed in
everything without being taught! You're wondering, perhaps, where I
could have got the money? Come into my room--I'll show you all the
money. You may take it, you may take the cross off my neck, only give me
back Malek-Adel; give him me back again!'
Tchertop-hanov was shivering as if he were in a fever; the sweat rolled
down his face in drops, and, mingling with his tears, was lost in his
moustaches. He pressed Leyba's hands, he besought him, he almost kissed
him.... He was in a sort of delirium. The Jew tried to object, to
declare that it was utterly impossible for him to get away; that he had
business.... It was useless! Tchertop-hanov would not even hear
anything. There was no help for it; the poor Jew consented.
The next day Tchertop-hanov set out from Bezsonovo in a peasant cart,
with Leyba. The Jew wore a somewhat troubled aspect; he held on to the
rail with one hand, while all his withered figure bounded up and down on
the jolting seat; the other hand he held pressed to his bosom, where lay
a packet of notes wrapped up in newspaper. Tchertop-hanov sat like a
statue, only moving his eyes about him, and drawing in deep breaths; in
his sash there was stuck a dagger.
'There, the miscreant who has parted us must look out for himself now!'
he muttered, as they drove out on the high-road.
His house he left in the charge of Perfishka and an old cook, a deaf old
peasant woman, whom he took care of out of compassion.
'I shall come back to you on Malek-Adel,' he shouted to them at parting,
'or never come back at all!'
'You might as well be married to me at once!' jested Perfishka, giving
the cook a dig in the ribs with his elbow. 'No fear! the master'll never
come back to us; and here I shall be bored to death all alone!'