in the direction in which the monastery walls make a patch of darkness
in the fog. Yasha sits beside him on the very edge of the seat with his
legs hanging over the side. His face as before shows no sign of emotion
and expresses neither boredom nor desire. He is not glad that he is
going home, nor sorry that he has not had time to see the sights of the
city.

"Drive on!"

The cabman whips up the horse and, turning round, begins swearing at the
heavy and cumbersome luggage.

* On many railway lines, in order to avoid accidents, it is
against the regulations to carry hay on the trains, and so
live stock are without fodder on the journey.--Author's
Note.

**The train destined especially for the transport of troops
is called the troop train; when they are no troops it takes
goods, and goes more rapidly than ordinary goods train.
--Author's Note.

SORROW

THE turner, Grigory Petrov, who had been known for years past as a
splendid craftsman, and at the same time as the most senseless peasant
in the Galtchinskoy district, was taking his old woman to the hospital.
He had to drive over twenty miles, and it was an awful road. A
government post driver could hardly have coped with it, much less an
incompetent sluggard like Grigory. A cutting cold wind was blowing
straight in his face. Clouds of snowflakes were whirling round and
round in all directions, so that one could not tell whether the snow was
falling from the sky or rising from the earth. The fields, the telegraph
posts, and the forest could not be seen for the fog of snow. And when a
particularly violent gust of wind swooped down on Grigory, even the yoke
above the horse's head could not be seen. The wretched, feeble little
nag crawled slowly along. It took all its strength to drag its legs out
of the snow and to tug with its head. The turner was in a hurry. He kept
restlessly hopping up and down on the front seat and lashing the horse's
back.

"Don't cry, Matryona,..." he muttered. "Have a little patience.
Please God we shall reach the hospital, and in a trice it will be the
right thing for you.... Pavel Ivanitch will give you some little
drops, or tell them to bleed you; or maybe his honor will be pleased to
rub you with some sort of spirit--it'll... draw it out of your side.
Pavel Ivanitch will do his best. He will shout and stamp about, but he
will do his best.... He is a nice gentleman, affable, God give him
hea