"Could I find a guide? I will pay him any sum he likes."
"Stop!" said the old man, dropping the shutter; "I will send my son out to you; he will conduct you."
Vladimir waited. Scarcely a minute had passed when he again knocked. The shutter was lifted and a beard was seen.
"What do you want?"
"What about your son?"
"He'll come out directly: he is putting on his boots. Are you cold? Come in and warm yourself."
"Thanks! Send out your son quickly."
The gate creaked; a youth came out with a cudgel, and walked on in front, at one time pointing out the road, at another looking for it in a mass of drifted snow.
"What o'clock is it?" Vladimir asked him.