‘Now for a long and hard gallop, Boris, my friend,’ said I, patting his neck, and away went the good horse upon a scent nearly two days old, and lo! to my surprise and delight, on the third night I ran into the quarry.
It was at midnight that we rode up to a post-house upon the Kiefsky road. I did not expect more than news of the fugitives: they had passed, I should be told, so many hours before; yet when the night groom came forward to take my orders he began by telling me, if I desired the nochliog, or night’s rest, I must sleep in the stable, for wonderful things were happening here.
‘Never mind the wonderful things, fool; tell me quickly how long since there passed a dormése containing a man and a woman, besides the driver?’
‘It has not passed at all,’ said the fellow, grinning and scratching his head, ‘because it is still here!’
‘Come into the stable quickly!’ I said, fearful lest he should be heard, supposing that this wondrous thing were really true. ‘Now,’ I continued, when we had entered the horse-shed and closed the door, ‘tell me what you were going to say at first.’
‘The man is sleeping in the travelling carriage because the woman has barricaded herself in the post-room; this is the second night: the postmaster argues and scolds all day, but it is useless. “If he tries to come in here,” says the woman, “he shall be killed!” As for the man, he laughs and says, “We shall see what will happen when her stomach craves for food!” “God knows,” says the master, “how it will end!”’
‘That I will soon show you, my friend,’ said I, ‘for I have come to end it!’
I hastened to the post-room. ‘If you don’t wish to be slit in two halves or have your brains set flowing, go not near that mad thing,’ said the groom. ‘Lord! you should hear her cry out at the other!’
Disregarding his warnings, to his great alarm I knocked at the door of the post-room, saying it was I, Chelminsky, come to deliver her.
‘Ah,’ said Vera’s voice from within, ‘it is that devil, assuming Chelminsky’s voice. I am not so easily deceived, Mazeppa!’