us.

"How unlucky we are, excellency," cried the driver; "it is the
_bourane_."

I put my head out of the _kibitka_; all was darkness and confusion. The
wind blew with such ferocity that it was difficult not to think it an
animated being.

The snow drifted round and covered us. The horses went at a walk, and
soon stopped altogether.

"Why don't you go on?" I said, impatiently, to the driver.

"But where to?" he replied, getting out of the sledge. "Heaven only
knows where we are now. There is no longer any road, and it is all
dark."

I began to scold him, but Savéliitch took his part.

"Why did you not listen to him?" he said to me, angrily. "You would have
gone back to the post-house; you would have had some tea; you could
have slept till morning; the storm would have blown over, and we should
have started. And why such haste? Had it been to get married, now!"

Savéliitch was right. What was there to do? The snow continued to
fall--a heap was rising around the _kibitka_. The horses stood
motionless, hanging their heads and shivering from time to time.

The driver walked round them, settling their harness, as if he had