And having taken these things from under Vasili Andreevich,
\nNikita went behind the sledge, dug out a hole for himself in
\nthe snow, put straw into it, wrapped his coat well round him,
\ncovered himself with the sackcloth, and pulling his cap well
\ndown seated himself on the straw he had spread, and leant
\nagainst the wooden back of the sledge to shelter himself from
\nthe wind and the snow.<\/p>\n
Vasili Andreevich shook his head disapprovingly at what Nikita
\nwas doing, as in general he disapproved of the peasant’s
\nstupidity and lack of education, and he began to settle himself
\ndown for the night.<\/p>\n
He smoothed the remaining straw over the bottom of the sledge,
\nputting more of it under his side. Then he thrust his hands
\ninto his sleeves and settled down, sheltering his head in the
\ncorner of the sledge from the wind in front.<\/p>\n
He did not wish to sleep. He lay and thought: thought ever of
\nthe one thing that constituted the sole aim, meaning, pleasure,
\nand pride of his life–of how much money he had made and might
\nstill make, of how much other people he knew had made and
\npossessed, and of how those others had made and were making it,
\nand how he, like them, might still make much more. The
\npurchase of the Goryachkin grove was a matter of immense
\nimportance to him. By that one deal he hoped to make perhaps
\nten thousand rubles. He began mentally to reckon the value of
\nthe wood he had inspected in autumn, and on five acres of which
\nhe had counted all the trees.<\/p>\n
‘The oaks will go for sledge-runners. The undergrowth will
\ntake care of itself, and there’ll still be some thirty sazheens
\nof fire-wood left on each desyatin,’ said he to himself. ‘That
\nmeans there will be at least two hundred and twenty-five
\nrubles’ worth left on each desyatin. Fifty-six desyatiins
\nmeans fifty-six hundreds, and fifty-six hundreds, and
\nfifty-six tens, and another fifty-six tens, and then fifty-six
\nfives. . . .’ He saw that it came out to more than twelve
\nthousand rubles, but could not reckon it up exactly without a
\ncounting-frame. ‘But I won’t give ten thousand, anyhow. I’ll
\ngive about eight thousand with a deduction on account of the
\nglades. I’ll grease the surveyor’s palm–give him a hundred
\nrubles, or a hundred and fifty, and he’ll reckon that there are
\nsome five desyatins of glade to be deducted. And he’ll let it
\ngo for eight thousand. Three thousand cash down. That’ll move
\nhim, no fear!’ he thought, and he pressed his pocket-book with
\nhis forearm.<\/p>\n
‘God only knows how we missed the turning. The forest ought to
\nbe there, and a watchman’s hut, and dogs barking. But the
\ndamned things don’t bark when they’re wanted.’ He turned his
\ncollar down from his ear and listened, but as before only the
\nwhistling of the wind could be heard, the flapping and
\nfluttering of the kerchief tied to the shafts, and the pelting
\nof the snow against the woodwork of the sledge. He again
\ncovered up his ear.<\/p>\n
‘If I had known I would have stayed the night. Well, no
\nmatter, we’ll get there to-morrow. It’s only one day lost. And
\nthe others won’t travel in such weather.’ Then he remembered
\nthat on the 9th he had to receive payment from the butcher for
\nhis oxen. ‘He meant to come himself, but he won’t find me, and
\nmy wife won’t know how to receive the money. She doesn’t know
\nthe right way of doing things,’ he thought, recalling how at
\ntheir party the day before she had not known how to treat the
\npolice-officer who was their guest. ‘Of course she’s only a
\nwoman! Where could she have seen anything? In my father’s time
\nwhat was our house like? Just a rich peasant’s house: just an
\noatmill and an inn–that was the whole property. But what have
\nI done in these fifteen years? A shop, two taverns, a
\nflour-mill, a grain-store, two farms leased out, and a house
\nwith an iron-roofed barn,’ he thought proudly. ‘Not as it was
\nin Father’s time! Who is talked of in the whole district now?
\nBrekhunov! And why? Because I stick to business. I take
\ntrouble, not like others who lie abed or waste their time on
\nfoolishness while I don’t sleep of nights. Blizzard or no
\nblizzard I start out. So business gets done. They think
\nmoney-making is a joke. No, take pains and rack your brains!
\nYou get overtaken out of doors at night, like this, or keep
\nawake night after night till the thoughts whirling in your head
\nmake the pillow turn,’ he meditated with pride. ‘They think
\npeople get on through luck. After all, the Mironovs are now
\nmillionaires. And why? Take pains and God gives. If only He
\ngrants me health!’<\/p>\n
The thought that he might himself be a millionaire like<\/p>\n
Mironov, who began with nothing, so excited Vasili Andreevich
\nthat he felt the need of talking to somebody. But there was no
\none to talk to. . . . If only he could have reached Goryachkin
\nhe would have talked to the landlord and shown him a thing or
\ntwo.<\/p>\n
‘Just see how it blows! It will snow us up so deep that we
\nshan’t be able to get out in the morning!’ he thought,
\nlistening to a gust of wind that blew against the front of the
\nsledge, bending it and lashing the snow against it. He raised
\nhimself and looked round. All he could see through the
\nwhirling darkness was Mukhorty’s dark head, his back covered by
\nthe fluttering drugget, and his thick knotted tail; while all
\nround, in front and behind, was the same fluctuating whity
\ndarkness, sometimes seeming to get a little lighter and
\nsometimes growing denser still.<\/p>\n
‘A pity I listened to Nikita,’ he thought. ‘We ought to have
\ndriven on. We should have come out somewhere, if only back to
\nGrishkino and stayed the night at Taras’s. As it is we must
\nsit here all night. But what was I thinking about? Yes, that
\nGod gives to those who take trouble, but not to loafers,
\nlie-abeds, or fools. I must have a smoke!’<\/p>\n
He sat down again, got out his cigarette-case, and stretched
\nhimself flat on his stomach, screening the matches with the
\nskirt of his coat. But the wind found its way in and put out
\nmatch after match. At last he got one to burn and lit a
\ncigarette. He was very glad that he had managed to do what he
\nwanted, and though the wind smoked more of the cigarette than
\nhe did, he still got two or three puffs and felt more cheerful.
\nHe again leant back, wrapped himself up, started reflecting
\nand remembering, and suddenly and quite unexpectedly lost
\nconsciousness and fell asleep.<\/p>\n
Suddenly something seemed to give him a push and awoke him.
\nWhether it was Mukhorty who had pulled some straw from under
\nhim, or whether something within him had startled him, at all
\nevents it woke him, and his heart began to beat faster and
\nfaster so that the sledge seemed to tremble under him. He
\nopened his eyes. Everything around him was just as before.
\n‘It looks lighter,’ he thought. ‘I expect it won’t be long
\nbefore dawn.’ But he at once remembered that it was lighter
\nbecause the moon had risen. He sat up and looked first at the
\nhorse. Mukhorty still stood with his back to the wind,
\nshivering all over. One side of the drugget, which was
\ncompletely covered with snow, had been blown back, the
\nbreeching had slipped down and the snow-covered head with its
\nwaving forelock and mane were now more visible. Vasili
\nAndreevich leant over the back of the sledge and looked behind.
\nNikita still sat in the same position in which he had settled
\nhimself. The sacking with which he was covered, and his legs,
\nwere thickly covered with snow.<\/p>\n
‘If only that peasant doesn’t freeze to death! His clothes are
\nso wretched. I may be held responsible for him. What
\nshiftless people they are–such a want of education,’ thought<\/p>\n
Vasili Andreevich, and he felt like taking the drugget off the
\nhorse and putting it over Nikita, but it would be very cold to
\nget out and move about and, moreover, the horse might freeze to
\ndeath. ‘Why did I bring him with me? It was all her
\nstupidity!’ he thought, recalling his unloved wife, and he
\nrolled over into his old place at the front part of the sledge.
\n‘My uncle once spent a whole night like this,’ he reflected,
\n‘and was all right.’ But another case came at once to his
\nmind. ‘But when they dug Sebastian out he was dead–stiff like
\na frozen carcass. If I’d only stopped the night in Grishkino
\nall this would not have happened!’<\/p>\n
And wrapping his coat carefully round him so that none of the
\nwarmth of the fur should be wasted but should warm him all
\nover, neck, knees, and feet, he shut his eyes and tried to
\nsleep again. But try as he would he could not get drowsy, on
\nthe contrary he felt wide awake and animated. Again he began
\ncounting his gains and the debts due to him, again he began
\nbragging to himself and feeling pleased with himself and his
\nposition, but all this was continually disturbed by a
\nstealthily approaching fear and by the unpleasant regret that
\nhe had not remained in Grishkino.<\/p>\n
‘How different it would be to be lying warm on a bench!’
\nHe turned over several times in his attempts to get into a more
\ncomfortable position more sheltered from the wind, he wrapped
\nup his legs closer, shut his eyes, and lay still. But either
\nhis legs in their strong felt boots began to ache from being
\nbent in one position, or the wind blew in somewhere, and after
\nlying still for a short time he again began to recall the
\ndisturbing fact that he might now have been lying quietly in
\nthe warm hut at Grishkino. He again sat up, turned about,
\nmuffled himself up, and settled down once more.<\/p>\n
Once he fancied that he heard a distant cock-crow. He felt
\nglad, turned down his coat-collar and listened with strained
\nattention, but in spite of all his efforts nothing could be
\nheard but the wind whistling between the shafts, the flapping
\nof the kerchief, and the snow pelting against the frame of the
\nsledge.<\/p>\n
Nikita sat just as he had done all the time, not moving and not
\neven answering Vasili Andreevich who had addressed him a
\ncouple of times. ‘He doesn’t care a bit–he’s probably
\nasleep!’ thought Vasili Andreevich with vexation, looking
\nbehind the sledge at Nikita who was covered with a thick layer
\nof snow.<\/p>\n
Vasili Andreevich got up and lay down again some twenty times.
\nIt seemed to him that the night would never end. ‘It must be
\ngetting near morning,’ he thought, getting up and looking
\naround. ‘Let’s have a look at my watch. It will be cold to
\nunbutton, but if I only know that it’s getting near morning I
\nshall at any rate feel more cheerful. We could begin
\nharnessing.<\/p>\n
In the depth of his heart Vasili Andreevich knew that it could
\nnot yet be near morning, but he was growing more and more
\nafraid, and wished both to get to know and yet to deceive
\nhimself. He carefully undid the fastening of his sheepskin,
\npushed in his hand, and felt about for a long time before he
\ngot to his waistcoat. With great difficulty he managed to draw
\nout his silver watch with its enamelled flower design, and
\ntried to make out the time. He could not see anything without
\na light. Again he went down on his knees and elbows as he had
\ndone when he lighted a cigarette, got out his matches, and
\nproceeded to strike one. This time he went to work more
\ncarefully, and feeling with his fingers for a match with the
\nlargest head and the greatest amount of phosphorus, lit it at
\nthe first try. Bringing the face of the watch under the light
\nhe could hardly believe his eyes. . . . It was only ten
\nminutes past twelve. Almost the whole night was still before
\nhim.<\/p>\n
‘Oh, how long the night is!’ he thought, feeling a cold shudder
\nrun down his back, and having fastened his fur coats again and
\nwrapped himself up, he snuggled into a corner of the sledge
\nintending to wait patiently. Suddenly, above the monotonous
\nroar of the wind, he clearly distinguished another new and
\nliving sound. It steadily strengthened, and having become
\nquite clear diminished just as gradually. Beyond all doubt it
\nwas a wolf, and he was so near that the movement of his jaws as
\nhe changed his cry was brought down the wind. Vasili
\nAndreevich turned back the collar of his coat and listened
\nattentively. Mukhorty too strained to listen, moving his ears,
\nand when the wolf had ceased its howling he shifted from foot
\nto foot and gave a warning snort. After this Vasili Andreevich
\ncould not fall asleep again or even calm himself. The more he
\ntried to think of his accounts, his business, his reputation,
\nhis worth and his wealth, the more and more was he mastered by
\nfear, and regrets that he had not stayed the night at Grishkino
\ndominated and mingled in all his thoughts.<\/p>\n
‘Devil take the forest! Things were all right without it,
\nthank God. Ah, if we had only put up for the night!’ he said
\nto himself. ‘They say it’s drunkards that freeze,’ he thought,
\n‘and I have had some drink.’ And observing his sensations he
\nnoticed that he was beginning to shiver, without knowing
\nwhether it was from cold or from fear. He tried to wrap
\nhimself up and lie down as before, but could no longer do so.
\nHe could not stay in one position. He wanted to get up, to do
\nsomething to master the gathering fear that was rising in him
\nand against which he felt himself powerless. He again got out
\nhis cigarettes and matches, but only three matches were left
\nand they were bad ones. The phosphorus rubbed off them all
\nwithout lighting.<\/p>\n
‘The devil take you! Damned thing! Curse you!’ he muttered,
\nnot knowing whom or what he was cursing, and he flung away the
\ncrushed cigarette. He was about to throw away the matchbox
\ntoo, but checked the movement of his hand and put the box in
\nhis pocket instead. He was seized with such unrest that he
\ncould no longer remain in one spot. He climbed out of the<\/p>\n
sledge and standing with his back to the wind began to shift
\nhis belt again, fastening it lower down in the waist and
\ntightening it.<\/p>\n
‘What’s the use of lying and waiting for death? Better mount
\nthe horse and get away!’ The thought suddenly occurred to
\nhim. ‘The horse will move when he has someone on his back.
\nAs for him,’ he thought of Nikita–‘it’s all the same to him
\nwhether he lives or dies. What is his life worth? He won’t
\ngrudge his life, but I have something to live for, thank God.’
\nHe untied the horse, threw the reins over his neck and tried to
\nmount, but his coats and boots were so heavy that he failed.
\nThen he clambered up in the sledge and tried to mount from
\nthere, but the sledge tilted under his weight, and he failed
\nagain. At last he drew Mukhorty nearer to the sledge,
\ncautiously balanced on one side of it, and managed to lie on
\nhis stomach across the horse’s back. After lying like that for
\na while he shifted forward once and again, threw a leg over,
\nand finally seated himself, supporting his feet on the loose
\nbreeching-straps. The shaking of the sledge awoke Nikita. He
\nraised himself, and it seemed to Vasili Andreevich that he said
\nsomething.<\/p>\n
‘Listen to such fools as you! Am I to die like this for
\nnothing?’ exclaimed Vasili Andreevich. And tucking the loose
\nskirts of his fur coat in under his knees, he turned the horse
\nand rode away from the sledge in the direction in which he
\nthought the forest and the forester’s hut must be.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Part b’ follows<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Master and Man<\/em><\/strong> And having taken these things from under Vasili Andreevich, Nikita went behind the sledge, dug out a hole for himself in the snow, put straw into it, wrapped his coat well round him, covered himself with the sackcloth, and pulling his cap well down 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having taken these things from under Vasili Andreevich, Nikita went behind the sledge, dug out a hole for himself in the snow, put straw into it, wrapped his coat well round him, covered himself with the sackcloth, and pulling his cap well down 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\n\u00a0Leo Tolstoy<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"