“Well? Are you getting married?” asked Olénin, greeting him merrily.
Lukáshka gave no direct reply.
“There, I’ve exchanged your horse across the river. This is a horse! A Kabardá horse from the Lov stud. I know horses.”
They examined the new horse and made him caracole about the yard. The horse really was an exceptionally fine one, a broad and long gelding, with glossy coat, thick silky tail, and the soft fine mane and crest of a thoroughbred. He was so well fed that “you might go to sleep on his back” as Lukáshka expressed it. His hoofs, eyes, teeth, were exquisitely shaped and sharply outlined, as one only finds them in very pure-bred horses. Olénin could not help admiring the horse, he had not yet met with such a beauty in the Caucasus.
“And how it goes!” said Lukáshka, patting its neck. “What a step! And so clever—he simply runs after his master.”
“Did you have to add much to make the exchange?” asked Olénin.
“I did not count it,” answered Lukáshka with a smile. “I got him from a kunak.”
“A wonderfully beautiful horse! What would you take for it?” asked Olénin.
“I have been offered a hundred and fifty rubles for it, but I’ll give it you for nothing,” said Lukáshka, merrily. “Only say the word and it’s yours. I’ll unsaddle it and you may take it. Only give me some sort of a horse for my duties.”
“No, on no account.”