The general stood on the door-steps. Sergius drew up the sleighs, and they took their seats—three abreast—Kseniya, Elena and himself, and whirled along over the crackling snow, down to the ice-covered Volga. The sleighs flew wildly down the slope, and in this impetuous flight, in the sprinkling and crackling snow, and bitter, numbing frost, Kseniya dreamed of a wondrous bliss: she felt a desire to embrace the world! Life suddenly seemed so joyous.
The frost was harsh, cruel and penetrating. On regaining the house the general bristled up like a sparrow—he was frozen—and called out from the door-step:
"Sergius! There is a frost to-day that will certainly burst the water-pipes. We will have to place a guard for the night."
Perhaps Sergius, and even the old man, had had a glimpse of wonderful happiness in the sleigh's swift flight over the snow. The former called back:
"Never mind!"—and again whirled wildly down from the old Cathedral to the Volga, where the boats and steamers plied amid the deep-blue, massive ice-floes, so sparkling and luminous in their snowy raiment.
But the general had now worked himself up to a state of great excitement. He rushed indoors and roused everyone:
"I tell you, it will freeze and the pipes will burst unless you let the water run a little. There are 27 degrees of frost!"
"But the tap is in the kitchen and Leontyevna is sleeping there," objected Lina.
"Well, waken her!"
"Impossible!"