"Oh, you're going to see Mikhail? He hasn't come to the great house yet, though. It's all being done up."
"No, I'm going to Madame Olsheffsky's!"
"Anna Olsheffsky! Haven't you heard she was drowned in the flood? Washed away. Just before the children lost their property to that thief of a cousin!"
The driver went on adding the details, not noticing that the gentleman had fallen back, and lay gasping as if for air.
"You knew Anna Olsheffsky, perhaps?" he said at last, turning towards the traveller. Then seeing his face, "Holy Saints! What is the matter? He'll die surely, and no help to be had!"
"She was my wife," said the gentleman hoarsely. "You don't remember me? I am André Olsheffsky."
"To think that I shouldn't have known you, Barin!" cried the driver in great excitement, dropping the reins. "Not that it's much to be wondered at, and you looking a young man when you left! Welcome home! Welcome home!"
"Where are the children?" said André Olsheffsky, brokenly. "Perhaps they're dead, too?"
"Oh, the children are all well, Barin! They are at Volodia Ivanovitch's."
"Drive me there, then," said Mr. Olsheffsky; and the sledge dashed off with a peal of its bells, and drew up with a flourish in front of Volodia's doorway.