drove out of the yard, Tchitchikoff glanced back, and perceived that Sobakevitch was still standing upon the threshold, apparently watching his visitor to see where he was going.

“The sly villain, he’s still standing there!” he muttered between his teeth; and, after turning towards the peasant’s huts, he ordered Selifan to drive off in such a manner that the equipage could not be seen from the house. He wanted to visit Pliushkin, whose people, according to Sobakevitch’s account, died like flies, but he did not wish Sobakevitch to know it. When the britchka reached the farther end of the village, he called to the first moujik he met, a fellow who had picked up a thick beam somewhere on the road, and who was dragging it home to his hut on his shoulder, like an indefatigable ant.

“Hey, there, beard! How do you get to Pliushkin’s from here, without having to pass your master’s house?”

This question seemed to perplex the moujik.

“Don’t you know?”

“No, master, I don’t know.”

“O, you fool! and you’ve got grey hair, too! Don’t you know that miser Pliushkin, the man who feeds his people so badly?”

“Ah! the ragged man with patched clothes!” exclaimed the moujik. “Take that path there, and turn to the right a hundred paces off. Then you will only have to drive straight on.”

Thereupon the britchka rolled rapidly away.


  By PanEris using Melati.

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