The touloup was produced. The moujik proceeded to try it on. And, indeed, the touloup, which even I had grown out of, fitted him rather tightly. He managed, however, to get it on somehow, bursting it open at the seams. Savelitch almost howled when he heard the threads part. The vagabond alone was delighted with my present. He accompanied me to the kibitka, and said with a bow:
"Many thanks, your honour! God reward you for your good deed. I shall never forget your kindness."
He went his way, and I continued my journey, not heeding Savelitch, and soon forgot yesterday's storm, my guide, and my touloup.
Upon arriving at Orenburg, I directly went to the general. I beheld a tall man, already bent by age. His long hair was perfectly white; his old faded uniform reminded one of a warrior of the days of the Empress Anne, and his pronounciation was very German. I handed my father's letter to him. Upon his name being mentioned, he threw a sudden glance at me. "Mein Gott!" he said, "is it long since Andrey Petrovitch vos of dye age himself, and now he hass such a fellow as dee for a zohn? Yes, time flies!" He opened the letter, and began to read it in an undertone to himself, making his remarks: "'Dear sir, Ivan Karlovitch; I hope that your excellency!' . . . . Dear me, what formalities! Pfouy! is he not ashamed of himself? Certainly, discipline pefore all, but is dis dee vay to write to an old comrate? . . . . 'Your excellency has not forgotten!' . . . . him! . . . .