firmly resolved to make peace with him, but I did not know how to begin.
At last I said to him--

"Look here, Savéliitch, let us have done with all this; let us make
peace."

"Oh! my little father, Petr' Andréjïtch," he replied, with a deep sigh,
"I am angry with myself; it is I who am to blame for everything. What
possessed me to leave you alone in the inn? But what could I do; the
devil would have it so, else why did it occur to me to go and see my
gossip the deacon's wife, and thus it happened, as the proverb says, 'I
left the house and was taken to prison.' What ill-luck! What ill-luck!
How shall I appear again before my master and mistress? What will they
say when they hear that their child is a drunkard and a gamester?"

To comfort poor Savéliitch, I gave him my word of honour that in future
I would not spend a single kopek without his consent. Gradually he
calmed down, though he still grumbled from time to time, shaking his
head--

"A hundred roubles, it is easy to talk!"

I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched a wild and dreary
desert, intersected by little hills and deep ravines. All was covered
with snow. The sun was setting. My _kibitka_ was following the narrow
road, or rather the track, left by the sledges of the peasants. All at
once my driver looked round, and addressing himself to me--

"Sir," said he, taking off his cap, "will you not order me to turn
back?"