"Marusya," I cried again, "is that the way
you are going to treat me?! Why, then, did you save me from the
rods?"
She stopped for a moment, as though thinking of something. Her
handkerchief fell from her hand. She sighed deeply, picked up the
handkerchief, and resumed her walk. I returned to the village
alone. Anna met me with tears of joy in her eyes. I broke out into
tears myself, without really knowing why. I caught Marusya's eye,
but her look was a puzzle to me.--
Presently our horses began to trot at a lively pace; they felt the
road sloping downhill. The driver, who had long been nodding in his
seat, was suddenly shaken out of his slumbers. He woke up with a
start, and flourished his whip; which is a habit acquired in his
trade. Uphill or downhill, your coach-drive is bound to work with
his whip. Let him be disturbed, no matter when,--even when he drops
into a doze in his Klaus on a Yom-Kippur night--he will invariably
shake his hand at the intruder as if swinging his whip.
As the horses increased their speed, the baying of dogs became
audible; a village was not far off.
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