wear--_"

Was it a voice shrieking in his ears? He cowered backwards, huddled
together, shivering.

"_I swear--_"

Suddenly there came the click of a revolver. A shot rang out; a moan.
The Duke stood motionless for a second; then he faltered, twisted and
fell on his face with his arms outstretched.

CHAPTER V

It was snowing steadily. The drops came so thick and so fast that the
city was shrouded as in a great white veil, falling from the sky to the
earth. Drifts were piled in the streets; they were frozen and padded
as with a carpet, and the sound of sleigh-bells rang muffled in the
distance. It was night and dark, with a bitter wind that came
shrieking about the corners, blowing the snow, as it fell, into a riot
of feathery flakes; sudden gusts that raided the drifts, driving the
white maze hither and thither, flinging it up and away in a very fury
of madness. The cold was intense.

Before the door of a house on the little Morskaia stood a kareta. It
was large and covered. Behind and on top several boxes were strapped,
protected from the snow by wrappings of oil-cloth, and on the driver's
seat was a valise.

The horses pawed the snow impatiently, tossing their heads and snorting
whenever the icy blast struck them. The wind was sharp like a whip.
Occasionally the kareta made a sudden lurch forward; then, with
guttural oaths and exclamations, the animals were reined back on their
haunches, slipping and sliding on the ice, plunging and foaming. The
foam turned to ice as it fell, flecking their bits. The breath from
their nostrils floated out like a vapour, slender and hoary.

The driver, muffled in furs, swung his arms against his breast, biting
his fingers, stamping his feet to keep them from freezing. The kareta,
the driver and the horses were covered with snow, lashed by it, blinded
with it. They waited wearily. From time to time the driver glanced up
at the door of the house and then back at the carriage, shaking his
head and muttering fiercely:

"Stand still, you sons of the devil, stand still! You prance and shy
as if Satan himself had stuck a dart in you! Hey, there!--Back, back,
you limb! Will the Barin never come?"

He swore vigorously to himself under his beard, and the flakes fell
from him in a shower. After a while the door of the house opened; some
one appeared on the steps and a voice called out:

"Bobo, eh Bobo! Is that you, are you ready? Heavens, what a night!"