Fear had stupified me....

At this moment I awoke.  The horses had stopped; Saveliitch had hold of my hand.

“Get out, excellency,” said he to me; “here we are.”

“Where?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“At our night’s lodging.  Heaven has helped us; we came by chance right upon the hedge by the house.  Get out, excellency, as quick as you can, and let us see you get warm.”

I got out of the kibitka.  The snowstorm still raged, but less violently.  It was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well been blind.  The host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneath the skirt of his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettily clean, lit by a loutchina.[18] On the wall hung a long carbine and a high Cossack cap.

Our host, a Cossack of the Yaik,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, still fresh and hale.  Saveliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for a fire that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, I never had more need.  The host hastened to wait upon him.

“What has become of our guide?  Where is he?” I asked Saveliitch.

“Here, your excellency,” replied a voice from above.

I raised my eyes to the recess above the stove, and I saw a black beard and two sparkling eyes.

“Well, are you cold?”

“How could I not be cold,” answered he, “in a little caftan all holes?  I had a touloup, but, it’s no good hiding it, I left it yesterday in pawn at the brandy shop; the cold did not seem to me then so keen.”

At this moment the host re-entered with the boiling samovar.[20] I offered our guide a cup of tea.  He at once jumped down.

I was struck by his appearance.  He was a man about forty, middle height, thin, but broad-shouldered.  His black beard was beginning to turn grey; his large quick eyes roved incessantly around.  In his face there was an expression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous.  His hair was cut short.  He wore a little torn armak,[21] and wide Tartar trousers.

I offered him a cup of tea; he tasted it, and made a wry face.

“Do me the favour, your excellency,” said he to me, “to give me a glass of brandy; we Cossacks do not generally drink tea.”

I willingly acceded to his desire.  The host took from one of the shelves of the press a jug and a glass, approached him, and, having looked him well in the face—­

“Well, well,” said he, “so here you are again in our part of the world.  Where, in heaven’s name, do you come from now?”

My guide winked in a meaning manner, and replied by the well-known saying—­

“The sparrow was flying about in the orchard; he was eating hempseed; the grandmother threw a stone at him, and missed him.  And you, how are you all getting on?”

“How are we all getting on?” rejoined the host, still speaking in proverbs.