I offered him a cup of tea.  He tasted it and made a grimace.

“Do me the favor, my lord, to order me a glass of brandy; tea is not the Cossack’s drink.”

I willingly granted the request.  The host took from the shelf of a closet a bottle and a glass, and going up to him, looking him full in the face, said: 

“Ah! ah! here you are again in our district.  Whence has God brought you?”

My guide winked in the most significant fashion and replied by the well-know proverb:  “’The sparrow was in the orchard eating flax-seed; the grandmother threw a stone at it, and missed.’” And you? how are all yours?”

“How are we?” said the host, and continuing in proverbs:  “’They began to ring the bell for Vespers, but the priest’s wife forbade it.  The priest went visiting, and the devils are in the graveyard.’”

“Be silent, uncle,” said the vagabond.

“’When there shall be rain, there will be mushrooms, and when there shall be mushrooms, there will be a basket to put them in.  Put thy hatchet behind thy back, the forest guard is out walking.’”

“To your lordship’s health.”  Taking the glass, he made the sign of the cross, and at one gulp swallowed his brandy.  He then saluted me and remounted to his loft.  I did not understand a word of this thief’s slang.  It was only in the sequel that I learned that they spoke of the affairs of the army of the Iaik, which had just been reduced to obedience after the revolt of 1772.  Saveliitch listened and glanced suspiciously from host to guide.

The species of inn where we were sheltered was in the very heart of the steppes, far from the road and every inhabited spot, and looked very much like a rendezvous of robbers.  But to set off again on our journey was impossible.  The disgust of Saveliitch amused not a little; however, he finally decided to mount upon the roof of the stove, the ordinary bed of the Russian peasant.  The warm bricks of the hot-air chamber of the stove diffused a grateful heat, and soon the old man and the host, who had laid himself on the floor, were snoring.  I stretched myself upon a bench, and slept like a dead.  Awaking next morning quite late, I saw that the hurricane was over.  The sun shone out, the snow extended in the distance like a sheet of dazzling white damask.  The horses were already at the door, harnessed.  I paid our host, who asked so small a pittance that even Saveliitch did not, as usual, haggle over the price.  His suspicions of the evening before had entirely disappeared.  I called the guide to thank him for the service he had done us, and told Saveliitch to give him half a rouble.  Saveliitch frowned.

“Half a rouble,” said he; “What for?  Because you yourself deigned to bring him to the inn?  Your will be done, my lord, but we have not a rouble to spare.  If we begin by giving drink money to every one we shall end by dying of hunger.”

It was useless to argue with him; my money, according to my promise, was entirely at his discretion.  But it was very unpleasant not to be able to reward a man who had extricated me from danger, perhaps death.