Russian fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, Russian -- Translations into English
"You see, you cross-eyed devil! you"--
"O Uncle Mitritch,"[10] cried the talkative fellow in the second
sledge, "you alive? Come along where we are!"
The old man did not answer him, but continued to scold. When he had
satisfied himself, he rejoined the second sledge.
"Get em all?" was asked him.
"Why, of course we did."
And his small figure leaped up and down on the horse's back as he
went off at full trot; then he sprang down into the snow, and without
stopping caught up with the sledge, and sat in it with his legs
hanging over the side. The tall Vasíli, just as before, took his place
in perfect silence in the front sledge with Ignashka; and then the two
began to look for the road together.
"What a spitfire! Great heavens!" muttered my driver.
For a long time after this we drove on without stopping, over the white
waste, in the cold, pellucid, and wavering light of the snowstorm. When
I opened my eyes, there before me rose the same clumsy, snow-covered
cap; the same low _dugá_ or bell-bow, under which, between the leathern
reins tightly stretched, there moved always at the same distance the
head of the shaft-horse with the black mane blown to one side by the
wind. And I could see, above his back, the brown off-horse on the
right, with his short braided tail, and the whiffletree sometimes
knocking against the dasher of the sleigh. If I looked below, then I
saw the scurrying snow stirred up by the runners, and constantly tossed
and borne by the wind to one side. In front of me, always at the same
distance, glided the other troïkas. To left and right, all was white
and bewildering. Vainly the eye sought for any new object: neither
verst-post, nor hayrick, nor fence was to be seen; nothing at all.
Everywhere, all was white, white and fluctuating. Now the horizon seems
to be indistinguishably distant, then it comes down within two steps
on every side; now suddenly a high white wall grows up on the right,
and accompanies the course of the sledges, then it suddenly vanishes,
and grows up in front, only to glide on in advance, farther and farther
away, and disappear again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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