White nights, and other storiesDostoyevsky, Fyodor
General
White nights, and other stories
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 1821-1881 -- Translations into English; Russian fiction -- Translations into English
My knightly exploits, however, were all over in an instant or it would
have gone badly with the knight. And, indeed, I do not know how I
escaped as it was. I did know how to ride, I had been taught. But my
pony was more like a sheep than a riding horse. No doubt I should have
been thrown off Tancred if he had had time to throw me, but after
galloping fifty paces he suddenly took fright at a huge stone which lay
across the road and bolted back. He turned sharply, galloping at full
speed, so that it is a puzzle to me even now that I was not sent
spinning out of the saddle and flying like a ball for twenty feet, that
I was not dashed to pieces, and that Tancred did not dislocate his leg
by such a sudden turn. He rushed back to the gate, tossing his head
furiously, bounding from side to side as though drunk with rage,
flinging his legs at random in the air, and at every leap trying to
shake me off his back as though a tiger had leaped on him and were
thrusting its teeth and claws into his back.
In another instant I should have flown off; I was falling; but several
gentlemen flew to my rescue. Two of them intercepted the way into the
open country, two others galloped up, closing in upon Tancred so that
their horses' sides almost crushed my legs, and both of them caught him
by the bridle. A few seconds later we were back at the steps.
They lifted me down from the horse, pale and scarcely breathing. I was
shaking like a blade of grass in the wind; it was the same with Tancred,
who was standing, his hoofs as it were thrust into the earth and his
whole body thrown back, puffing his fiery breath from red and streaming
nostrils, twitching and quivering all over, seeming overwhelmed with
wounded pride and anger at a child's being so bold with impunity. All
around me I heard cries of bewilderment, surprise, and alarm.
At that moment my straying eyes caught those of Mme. M., who looked pale
and agitated, and--I can never forget that moment--in one instant my
face was flooded with colour, glowed and burned like fire; I don't know
what happened to me, but confused and frightened by my own feelings I
timidly dropped my eyes to the ground. But my glance was noticed, it was
caught, it was stolen from me. All eyes turned on Mme. M., and finding
herself unawares the centre of attention, she, too, flushed like a child
from some naïve and involuntary feeling and made an unsuccessful effort
to cover her confusion by laughing....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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