Gradually the trees became thinner, and Vladimir drove out of the wood, but Jadrino was not to be seen. It must have been about midnight. Tears gushed from the young man's eyes. He drove on at random; and now the weather abated, the clouds dispersed, and before him was a wide stretch of plain, covered with a white billowy carpet. The night was comparatively clear, and he could see a small village a short distance off, which consisted of four or five cottages. Vladimir drove towards it. At the first door he jumped out of the sledge, ran up to the window, and tapped. After a few minutes a wooden, shutter was raised, and an old man stuck out his grey beard.
"What do you want?"
"How far is Jadrino?"
"How far is Jadrino?"
"Yes, yes! Is it far?"
"Not far; about ten miles."
At this answer Vladimir clutched hold of his hair, and stood motionless, like a man condemned to death.
"Where do you come from?" added the man. Vladimir had not the courage to reply.
"My man," he said, "can you procure me horses to Jadrino?"
"We have no horses," answered the peasant.