Shortly the wooden shutter was raised and an old man pushed his gray beard through.
"What dost thou want?"
"Is Jádrino far from here?"
"Is Jádrino far?"
"Yes, yes, is it far?"
"Not far, ten versts may be!"
On hearing this, Vladimir clutched his hair, and remained motionless, like a man condemned to death.
"And whence art thou?" continued the old man.
Vladimir had not the heart to answer his question.
"I say, old man," said he, "canst thou let me have horses to take me to Jádrino?"
"What dost thou talk to me of horses for?" answered the mujik.[1]
"May I not at least have a guide? He shall have whatever he asks."
"Stay," said the old man, letting down the shutter; "I shall send thee my son, he will conduct thee."
Vladimir waited. One minute could barely have elapsed, before he knocked again. The shutter was raised and the beard peeped out.
"What dost thou want?"
"Well, what about thy son?"
"Coming directly, he is getting his boots on. Maybe thou art cold; come in and warm thyself."
"No, thanks; send thy son quickly."
The gates creaked; a lad came out armed with a club and took the lead, now pointing to the road, now searching for it, where the snow had drifted.
- ↑ Peasant.—Tr.
