'How can we tell? Can one creep into the soul of another? Another's soul, we know, is a dark place. But, with the thought of God in the heart, things are always better.... No, no!... I'd my family all the time.... Gee... gee-up! little ones, in God's name!'
It was already almost daylight; we began to drive into Tula. I was lying, dreamy and half-asleep.
'Master,' Filofey said to me suddenly, 'look: there they're stopping at the tavern... their cart.'
I raised my head... there they were, and their cart and horses. In the doorway of the drinking-house there suddenly appeared our friend, the giant in the cape. 'Sir!' he shouted, waving his cap, 'we're drinking your health!--Hey, coachman,' he added, wagging his head at Filofey; 'you were a bit scared, I shouldn't wonder, hey?'
'A merry fellow!' observed Filofey when we had driven nearly fifty yards from the tavern.
We got into Tula at last: I bought shot, and while I was about it, tea and spirits, and even got a horse from the horse-dealer.
At mid-day we set off home again. As we drove by the place where we first heard the rattle of the cart behind us, Filofey, who, having had something to drink at Tula, turned out to be very talkative--he even began telling me fairy-tales--as he passed the place, suddenly burst out laughing.
'Do you remember, master, how I kept saying to you, "A rattle... a rattle of wheels," I said!'
He waved his hand several times. This expression struck him as most amusing. The same evening we got back to his village.
I related the adventure that had befallen us to Yermolaï. Being sober, he expressed no sympathy; he only gave a grunt--whether of approval or reproach, I imagine he did not know himself. But two days later he informed me, with great satisfaction, that the very night Filofey and I had been driving to Tula, and on the very road, a merchant had been robbed and murdered. I did not at first put much faith in this, but later on I was obliged to believe it: it was confirmed by the police captain, who came galloping over in consequence.