"What does this mean?" I exclaimed. "It is not my father. Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's blessing?"
"It is the same thing, Petrousha," replied my mother. "That person is
your godfather.[17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you."
I would not consent to this. Whereupon the peasant sprang from the bed,
quickly drew his axe from his belt, and began to brandish it in all
directions. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to be
suddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped in
pools of blood. The terrible peasant called me gently, saying to me-"Fear nothing, come near; come and let me bless you."
Fear had stupified me....
At this moment I awoke. The horses had stopped; Saveliitch had hold of
my hand.
"Get out, excellency," said he to me; "here we are."
"Where?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"At our night's lodging. Heaven has helped us; we came by chance right
upon the hedge by the house. Get out, excellency, as quick as you can,
and let us see you get warm."
I got out of the kibitka. The snowstorm still raged, but less
violently. It was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well been
blind. The host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneath
the skirt of his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettily
clean, lit by a loutchina.[18] On the wall hung a long carbine and a
high Cossack cap.
Our host, a Cossack of the Yaik,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, still
fresh and hale. Saveliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for a
fire that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, I
never had more need. The host hastened to wait upon him.
"What has become of our guide? Where is he?" I asked Saveliitch.
"Here, your excellency," replied a voice from above.
I raised my eyes to the recess above the stove, and I saw a black beard
and two sparkling eyes.
"Well, are you cold?"
"How could I not be cold," answered he, "in a little caftan all holes? I
had a touloup, but, it's no good hiding it, I left it yesterday in
pawn at the brandy shop; the cold did not seem to me then so keen."
At this moment the host re-entered with the boiling samovar.[20] I
offered our guide a cup of tea. He at once jumped down.
I was struck by his appearance. He was a man about forty, middle height,
thin, but broad-shouldered. His black beard was beginning to turn grey;
his large quick eyes roved incessantly around. In his face there was an
expression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous. His hair was cut
short. He wore a little torn armak,[21] and wide Tartar trousers.