“It is no business of yours, old man,” said my stroller, “whether I sell it for drink or not. His Excellency is pleased to give me a cloak from off his own shoulders; it is his lordly will, and it is your duty, as servant, to obey, and not to dispute.”
“Have you no fear of God, you robber!” said Savelitch, in an angry tone. “You see that the child has not yet reached the age of discretion, and yet you are only too glad to take advantage of his good-nature, and rob him. What do you want with my master’s pelisse? You will not be able to stretch it across your accursed shoulders.”
“I beg of you not to show off your wit,” I said to my guardian. “Bring the pelisse hither immediately!”
“Gracious Lord!” groaned Savelitch, “the pelisse is almost brand-new! If it were to anybody deserving of it, it would be different, but to give it to a ragged drunkard!”
However, the pelisse was brought. The peasant instantly commenced to try it on. And, indeed, the garment, which I had grown out of, and which was rather tight for me, was a great deal too small for him. But he contrived to get it on somehow, though not without bursting the seams in the effort. Savelitch very nearly gave vent to a groan when he heard the stitches giving way. The stroller was exceedingly pleased with my present. He conducted me to the kibitka, and said, with a low bow:
“Many thanks, your Excellency! May God reward you for your virtue. I shall never forget your kindness.”
He went his way, and I set out again on my journey, without paying any attention to Savelitch, and I soon forgot all about the storm of the previous day, the guide, and my pelisse.
On arriving at Orenburg, I immediately presented myself to the general. He was a tall man, but somewhat bent with age. His long hair was perfectly white. His old faded uniform recalled to mind the warrior of the time of the Empress Anne, and he spoke with a strong German accent.
I gave him the letter from my father. On hearing the name, he glanced at me quickly.
“Mein Gott!” said he, “it does not seem so very long ago since Andrei Petrovitch was your age, and now what a fine young fellow he has got for a son! Ach! time, time!”