Our host, a Cossack from the river Iaik, was a peasant of some sixty years, still fresh and green.
Saveliitch brought in the case containing my tea-service; he asked for fire to make me a few cups of tea, of which I never had greater need. The host hastened to serve us.
"Where is our guide?" I asked of Saveliitch.
"Here, your lordship," replied a voice from above. I raised my eyes to the loft, and saw a black beard and two sparkling black eyes.
"Well, are you cold?"
"How could I help being cold in this little cafetan full of holes. What's the use of concealment? I had a touloup, but I left it yesterday in pledge with the liquor-seller; then the cold did not seem so great."
At this moment our host entered with the portable furnace and boiler, the Russian Somovar. I offered our guide a cup of tea. Down he came at once. As he stood in the glare of the pine torch his appearance was remarkable. A man about forty years of age, medium height, slight but with broad shoulders. His black beard was turning grey; large, quick, restless eyes, gave him an expression full of cunning, and yet not at all disagreeable. He was dressed in wide Tartar pantaloons and an old jacket. His hair was cut evenly round.
I offered him a cup of tea. He tasted it and made a grimace.
"Do me the favor, my lord, to order me a glass of brandy; tea is not the Cossack's drink."
I willingly granted the request. The host took from the shelf of a closet a bottle and a glass, and going up to him, looking him full in the face, said: "Ah! ah! here you are again in our district. Whence has God brought you?"
My guide winked in the most significant fashion and replied by the well-know proverb: "'The sparrow was in the orchard eating flax-seed; the grandmother threw a stone at it, and missed.'" And you? how are all yours?"
"How are we?" said the host, and continuing in proverbs: "'They began to ring the bell for Vespers, but the priest's wife forbade it. The priest went visiting, and the devils are in the graveyard.'"
"Be silent, uncle," said the vagabond.
"'When there shall be rain, there will be mushrooms, and when there shall be mushrooms, there will be a basket to put them in. Put thy hatchet behind thy back, the forest guard is out walking.'"
"To your lordship's health." Taking the glass, he made the sign of the cross, and at one gulp swallowed his brandy. He then saluted me and remounted to his loft. I did not understand a word of this thief's slang. It was only in the sequel that I learned that they spoke of the affairs of the army of the Iaik, which had just been reduced to obedience after the revolt of 1772. Saveliitch listened and glanced suspiciously from host to guide.