The snow drifted round and covered us. The horses went at a walk, and soon stopped altogether.
"Why don't you go on?" I said, impatiently, to the driver.
"But where to?" he replied, getting out of the sledge. "Heaven only knows where we are now. There is no longer any road, and it is all dark."
I began to scold him, but Savéliitch took his part.
"Why did you not listen to him?" he said to me, angrily. "You would have gone back to the post-house; you would have had some tea; you could have slept till morning; the storm would have blown over, and we should have started. And why such haste? Had it been to get married, now!"
Savéliitch was right. What was there to do? The snow continued to fall—a heap was rising around the kibitka. The horses stood motionless, hanging their heads and shivering from time to time.
The driver walked round them, settling their harness, as if he had nothing else to do. Savéliitch grumbled. I was looking all round in hopes of perceiving some indication of a house or a road; but I could not see anything but the confused whirling of the snowstorm.
All at once I thought I distinguished something black.
"Hullo, driver!" I exclaimed, "what is that black thing over there?"
The driver looked attentively in the direction I was pointing out.