“Thank you; send your son out quickly.”
The door creaked: a lad came out with a cudgel and went on in front, at one time pointing out the road, at another searching for it among the drifted snow.
“What is the time?” Vladimir asked him.
“It will soon be daylight,” replied the young peasant. Vladimir spoke not another word.
The cocks were crowing, and it was already light when they reached Jadrino. The church was closed. Vladimir paid the guide and drove into the priest’s courtyard. His sledge was not there. What news awaited him! But let us return to the worthy proprietors of Nenaradova, and see what is happening there.
Nothing.
The old people awoke and went into the parlour, Gavril Gavrilovitch in a night-cap and flannel doublet, Praskovia; Petrovna in a wadded dressing-gown. The tea-urn was brought in, and Gavril Gavrilovitch sent a servant to ask Maria Gavrilovna how she was and how she had passed the night. The servant returned, saying that the young lady had not slept very well, but that she felt better now, and that she would come down presently into the parlour. And indeed, the door opened and Maria Gavrilovna entered the room and wished her father and mother good morning.
“How is your head, Masha?” asked Gavril Gavrilovitch.
“Better, papa,” replied Masha.
“Very likely you inhaled the fumes from the charcoal yesterday,” said Praskovia Petrovna.