“She is not quite recovered yet; there is not a decent stable in this cursed little place. But she is not bad looking--” puff--puff, the general here let out the smoke which he had kept in his mouth till then--“the little mare.” “It is long since your excellency--” puff--puff--puff--“condescended to buy her?” asked Tchertokoutski. Puff--puff--puff--puff. “Not very long, I had her from the breeding establishment two years ago.” “And did your excellency condescend to take her ready broken, or to have her broken in here yourself?” Puff--puff--puff--puff. “Here.” As he spoke the general disappeared behind a cloud of smoke. At that moment a soldier jumped out of the stable. The trampling of a horse’s hoofs was heard, and another soldier with immense moustaches, and wearing a long white tunic, appeared, leading by the bridle the terrified and quivering mare, which, suddenly rearing, lifted him off his feet. “Come, come, Agrafena Ivanovna,” said he, leading her towards the verandah. The mare’s name was Agrafena Ivanovna. Strong and bold as a Southern beauty, she suddenly became motionless. The general began to look at her with evident satisfaction, and left off smoking. The colonel himself went down the steps and patted her neck. The major ran his hand down her legs, and all the other officers clicked their tongues at her. Tchertokoutski left the verandah to take up a position beside the mare. The soldier who held her bridle drew himself up and stared fixedly at the guests. “She is very fine, very fine,” said Tchertokoutski, “a very well-shaped beast. Will your excellency allow me to ask whether she is a good goer?” “She goes well, but that idiot of a doctor, deuce take him, has given her some balls which have made her sneeze for the last two days.” “She is a fine beast, a very fine beast. Has your excellency a turn-out to match the horse?” “Turn-out! but she’s a saddle horse.” “I know. I put the question, your excellency, to know if you have an equipage worthy of your other horses?” “No, I have not much in the way of equipages; I must admit that, for some time past, I have been wanting to buy a calash, such as they build now-a-days. I have written about it to my brother who is now at St. Petersburg, but I do not know whether he will be able to send me one.” “It seems to me, your excellency,” remarked the colonel, “that there are no better calashes than those of Vienna.” “You are right.” Puff--puff--puff. “I have an excellent calash, your excellency, a real Viennese calash,” said Tchertokoutski. “That in which you came?” “Oh no, I make use of that for ordinary service, but the other is something extraordinary. It is as light as a feather, and if you sit in it, it seems as if your nurse was rocking you in a cradle.” “It is very comfortable then?” “Extremely comfortable; the cushions, the springs, and everything else are perfect.” “Ah! that is good.”