"It's gone!" exclaimed Isaiah.
"Can you see it?"
"I can see horses standing near the bushes. And there are people with them!" Isaiah spat on one side with a gesture of despair.
"That means there is no chance of getting across?"
"Oh, we shall manage to get over somehow! Yes, of course we shall get over, when the ice has gone down stream, but what are we to do till then? That's the question now! Besides, I'm hungry already; I'm too hungry for words! I told you we ought to have had something to eat. 'No, drive on!' Well, now you see I have driven on!"
"I'm as hungry as you are! Didn't you bring something with you?"
"And what if I have forgotten to bring something?" replied Isaiah crossly.
Looking ahead over his shoulders, I caught sight of a landau, drawn by a troika, and a wicker char-a-banc with a pair of horses. The horses' heads were turned towards us, and several people were standing near them; one, a tall Russian functionary with a red moustache, and wearing a cap with a scarlet band, the badge of Russian nobility. The other man wore a long fur coat.
"That's our district judge, Soutchoff, and the miller Mamaieff," muttered Isaiah, in a tone that denoted respect. Then, addressing the pony, he shouted, "Whoa, my benefactor!"
Then, pushing his hat to the back of his head, he turned to the fat coachman standing near the troika, and remarked, "We are too late, it seems; eh?"