cap with the fur peeled off, the broken cartridge-pouches on the
tattered Circassian coat, the dagger in a cracked sheath, the bloated
but still rosy face, the dishevelled but still thick hair.... My God!
It was Mísha! He had already come to begging alms on the highways!--I
involuntarily uttered an exclamation. He recognised me, shuddered,
turned away, and was about to withdraw from the window. I stopped
him ... but what was there that I could say to him? Certainly I could
not read him a lecture!... In silence I offered him a five-ruble
bank-note. With equal silence he grasped it in his still white and
plump, though trembling and dirty hand, and disappeared round the
corner of the house.

They did not furnish me with horses very promptly, and I had time to
indulge in cheerless meditations on the subject of my unexpected
encounter with Mísha. I felt conscience-stricken that I had let him go
in so unsympathetic a manner.--At last I proceeded on my journey, and
after driving half a verst from the posting-station I observed, ahead of
me on the road, a crowd of people moving along with a strange and as it
were measured tread. I overtook this crowd,--and what did I see?--Twelve
beggars, with wallets on their shoulders, were walking by twos, singing
and skipping as they went,---and at their head danced Mísha, stamping
time with his feet and saying: "Natchiki-tchikaldi, tchuk-tchuk-tchuk!
Natchiki-tchikaldi, tchuk-tchuk-tchuk!"

As soon as my calash came on a level with him, and he caught sight of
me, he immediately began to shout, "Hurrah! Halt, draw up in line! Eyes
front, my guard of the road!"

The beggars took up his cry and halted,--while he, with his habitual
laugh, sprang upon the carriage-step, and again yelled: "Hurrah!"