“Well,” I continued, “go and tell her that, fearing lest she should be annoyed if any accident were to happen during our journey,—for you know misfortunes occur sometimes; God sends them,” I added, piously.
“Yes, he does,” interrupted the man; “we are simple people, your excellency.”
“And, not wishing to hurt the old lady’s feelings, should the fore leg of your uncle’s horse, or the hind leg of your brother’s, suffer on the road, I have changed my mind, and shall not go with you to-day, but take post-horses to-morrow.”
The man now became alarmed, thinking that he was about to lose his fare. He rubbed his forehead violently, and then exclaimed, “I will take your excellency for five rubles.”
“But your brother?”
“Never mind; he is an animal; let us go.”
“No,” I answered. “I shall wait; the post-horses are beautiful horses. I am told that they gallop like the wind; all the people in the town look at them, and the inspector loves them.”
“Let us say four rubles, your excellency.”
“But your uncle might beat you. I should not like you to be hurt.”
“No,” was the answer; “we will go;” and the knotty point being thus settled, we drove off, much to the dissatisfaction of my little servant, Nazar, a blue-eyed siren in Orsk having, as the Orientals say, made roast meat of his heart, in spite of his being a married man.