I put my head out of the kibitka—darkness and storm. The wind blew with an expression so ferocious that it seemed a living creature.
The snow fell in large flakes upon us, covering us. The horses went at a walking pace, but very soon stood still.
“Why do you not go on?” I said to the coachman.
“Go where?” he replied, as he got down from the kibitka. “God knows where we are now! There is no road; all is darkness.”
I began to scold him. Saveliitch took up his defense:
“Why did you not listen to him,” said he, angrily; “you could have returned, taken some tea and slept till morning; the storm would have been over, and we could then have set out. Why this haste? as if you were going to your wedding?”
Saveliitch was right. What was to be done? The snow continued to fall; it was heaped up around the kibitka; the horses stood motionless, now and then shivering. The coachman walked around them adjusting their harness, as if he had nothing else to do.
Saveliitch grumbled.
I strained my eyes in every direction, hoping to see signs of a dwelling, or of a road, but I could only see the whirling of the snow-drift. All at once I thought I saw some thing black. “Halloo! coachman,” I cried out, “what is that black thing yonder?”
The coachman looked attentively where I indicated. “God knows, my lord,” he replied, re-mounting to his seat; “it is not a kibitka, nor a tree; it seems to be moving. It must be a wolf or a man!”