And he transfers the luggage with vigorous activity.
When it was moved, I got into the other sledge in spite of the wind which almost carried me away. The sledge, especially on that side toward which was spread the coat as a protection against the wind, for the two yamshchíks, was quarter buried in the snow; but behind the coat, it was warm and cosey. The little old man was lying with his legs hanging over, and the story-teller was still spinning his yarn: "At that very same time when the general in the king's name, you know, comes to Marya, you know, in the darkness, at this same time, Marya says to him, 'General, I do not need you, and I cannot love you; and, you know, you are not my lover, but my lover is the prince himself'—At this very time," he was going on to say; but, catching sight of me, he kept silence for a time, and began to puff at his pipe.
"Well, bárin, you missed the story, didn't you?" said the other, whom I have called the mentor.
"Yes; but you are finely provided for behind here," said I.
"Out of sheer dulness,—have to keep ourselves from thinking."'
"But, say, don't you know where we are now?"
This question, as it seemed to me, did not please the yamshchíks.
"Who can tell where we are? Maybe we are going to the Kalmucks," replied the mentor.
"But what are we going to do?" I asked.
"What are we going to do? Well, we are going, and will keep on going," he said in a fretful tone.