第7章

Thepipewentout。Thepostmastercameoutofthepost-officejustashewas，inhiswaistcoatandslippers；shrinkingfromthenightdampnessandclearinghisthroat，hewalkedbesidethecartandsaid:

“Well，Godspeed！Givemylovetoyourmother，Mihailo。Givemylovetothemall。Andyou，Ignatyev，mindyoudon’tforgettogivetheparceltoBystretsov。Off！“

Thedrivertookthereinsinonehand，blewhisnose，and，arrangingtheseatunderhimself，clickedtothehorses。

“Givethemmylove，“thepostmasterrepeated。

Thebigbellclangedsomethingtothelittlebells，thelittlebellsgaveitafriendlyanswer。Thecartsqueaked，moved。Thebigbelllamented，thelittlebellslaughed。Standingupinhisseatthedriverlashedtherestlesstracehorsetwice，andthecartrumbledwithahollowsoundalongthedustyroad。Thelittletownwasasleep。Housesandtreesstoodblackoneachsideofthebroadstreet，andnotalightwastobeseen。Narrowcloudsstretchedhereandthereoverthestar-spangledsky，andwherethedawnwouldsoonbecomingtherewasanarrowcrescentmoon；

butneitherthestars，ofwhichthereweremany，northehalf-moon，whichlookedwhite，lightedupthenightair。Itwascoldanddamp，andtherewasasmellofautumn。

Thestudent，whothoughtthatpolitenessrequiredhimtotalkaffablytoamanwhohadnotrefusedtolethimaccompanyhim，began:

“Insummeritwouldbelightatthistime，butnowthereisnotevenasignofthedawn。Summerisover！“

Thestudentlookedattheskyandwenton:

“Evenfromtheskyonecanseethatitisautumn。Looktotheright。Doyouseethreestarssidebysideinastraightline？

ThatistheconstellationofOrion，which，inourhemisphere，onlybecomesvisibleinSeptember。“

Thepostman，thrustinghishandsintohissleevesandretreatinguptohisearsintohiscoatcollar，didnotstiranddidnotglanceatthesky。ApparentlytheconstellationofOriondidnotinteresthim。Hewasaccustomedtoseethestars，andprobablyhehadlonggrownwearyofthem。Thestudentpausedforawhileandthensaid:

“It’scold！It’stimeforthedawntobegin。Doyouknowwhattimethesunrises？“

“What？“

“Whattimedoesthesunrisenow？“

“Betweenfiveandsix，“saidthedriver。

Themailcartdroveoutofthetown。Nownothingcouldbeseenoneithersideoftheroadbutthefencesofkitchengardensandhereandthereasolitarywillow-tree；everythinginfrontofthemwasshroudedindarkness。Hereintheopencountrythehalf-moonlookedbiggerandthestarsshonemorebrightly。Thencameascentofdampness；thepostmanshrankfurtherintohiscollar，thestudentfeltanunpleasantchillfirstcreepingabouthisfeet，thenoverthemailbags，overhishandsandhisface。

Thehorsesmovedmoreslowly；thebellwasmuteasthoughitwerefrozen。Therewasthesoundofthesplashofwater，andstarsreflectedinthewaterdancedunderthehorses’feetandroundthewheels。

Buttenminuteslateritbecamesodarkthatneitherthestarsnorthemooncouldbeseen。Themailcarthadenteredtheforest。

Pricklypinebrancheswerecontinuallyhittingthestudentonhiscapandaspider’swebsettledonhisface。Wheelsandhoofsknockedagainsthugeroots，andthemailcartswayedfromsidetosideasthoughitweredrunk。

“Keeptotheroad，“saidthepostmanangrily。“Whydoyourunuptheedge？Myfaceisscratchedalloverbythetwigs！Keepmoretotheright！“

Butatthatpointtherewasnearlyanaccident。Thecartsuddenlyboundedasthoughinthethroesofaconvulsion，begantrembling，and，withacreak，lurchedheavilyfirsttotherightandthentotheleft，andatafearfulpacedashedalongtheforesttrack。

Thehorseshadtakenfrightatsomethingandbolted。

“Wo！wo！“thedrivercriedinalarm。“Woyoudevils！

Thestudent，violentlyshaken，bentforwardandtriedtofindsomethingtocatchholdofsoastokeephisbalanceandsavehimselffrombeingthrownout，buttheleathermailbagswereslippery，andthedriver，whosebeltthestudenttriedtocatchat，washimselftossedupanddownandseemedeverymomentonthepointofflyingout。Throughtherattleofthewheelsandthecreakingofthecarttheyheardtheswordfallwithaclankontheground，thenalittlelatersomethingfellwithtwoheavythudsbehindthemailcart。

“Wo！“thedrivercriedinapiercingvoice，bendingbackwards。

“Stop！“

Thestudentfellonhisfaceandbruisedhisforeheadagainstthedriver’sseat，butwasatoncetossedbackagainandknockedhisspineviolentlyagainstthebackofthecart。

“Iamfalling！“wasthethoughtthatflashedthroughhismind，butatthatinstantthehorsesdashedoutoftheforestintotheopen，turnedsharplytotheright，andrumblingoverabridgeoflogs，suddenlystoppeddead，andthesuddennessofthishaltflungthestudentforwardagain。

Thedriverandthestudentwerebothbreathless。Thepostmanwasnotinthecart。Hehadbeenthrownout，togetherwithhissword，thestudent’sportmanteau，andoneofthemailbags。

“Stop，yourascal！Sto-op！“theyheardhimshoutfromtheforest。

“Youdamnedblackguard！“heshouted，runninguptothecart，andtherewasanoteofpainandfuryinhistearfulvoice。“Youanathema，plaguetakeyou！“heroared，dashinguptothedriverandshakinghisfistathim。

“Whatato-do！Lordhavemercyonus！“mutteredthedriverinaconscience-strickenvoice，settingrightsomethingintheharnessatthehorses’heads。“It’sallthatdevilofatracehorse。

Cursedfilly；itisonlyaweeksinceshehasruninharness。Shegoesallright，butassoonaswegodownhillthereistrouble！

Shewantsatouchortwoonthenose，thenshewouldn’tplayaboutlikethisStea-eady！Damn！“

Whilethedriverwassettingthehorsestorightsandlookingfortheportmanteau，themailbag，andtheswordontheroad，thepostmaninaplaintivevoiceshrillwithangerejaculatedoaths。

Afterreplacingtheluggagethedriverfornoreasonwhateverledthehorsesforahundredpaces，grumbledattherestlesstracehorse，andjumpeduponthebox。

Whenhisfrightwasoverthestudentfeltamusedandgood-humoured。Itwasthefirsttimeinhislifethathehaddrivenbynightinamailcart，andtheshakinghehadjustbeenthrough，thepostman’shavingbeenthrownout，andthepaininhisownbackstruckhimasinterestingadventures。Helightedacigaretteandsaidwithalaugh:

“Whyyouknow，youmightbreakyournecklikethat！Iverynearlyflewout，andIdidn’tevennoticeyouhadbeenthrownout。Icanfancywhatitislikedrivinginautumn！“

Thepostmandidnotspeak。

“Haveyoubeengoingwiththepostforlong？“thestudentasked。

“Elevenyears。“

“Oho；everyday？“

“Yes，everyday。Itakethispostanddrivebackagainatonce。

Why？“

Makingthejourneyeveryday，hemusthavehadagoodmanyinterestingadventuresinelevenyears。Onbrightsummerandgloomyautumnnights，orinwinterwhenaferocioussnowstormwhirledhowlingroundthemailcart，itmusthavebeenhardtoavoidfeelingfrightenedanduncanny。Nodoubtmorethanoncethehorseshadbolted，themailcarthadstuckinthemud，theyhadbeenattackedbyhighwaymen，orhadlosttheirwayintheblizzard。

“Icanfancywhatadventuresyoumusthavehadinelevenyears！“

saidthestudent。“Iexpectitmustbeterribledriving？“

Hesaidthisandexpectedthatthepostmanwouldtellhimsomething，butthelatterpreservedasullensilenceandretreatedintohiscollar。Meanwhileitbegantogetlight。Theskychangedcolourimperceptibly；itstillseemeddark，butbynowthehorsesandthedriverandtheroadcouldbeseen。Thecrescentmoonlookedbiggerandbigger，andthecloudthatstretchedbelowit，shapedlikeacannoninagun-carriage，showedafaintyellowonitsloweredge。Soonthepostman’sfacewasvisible。Itwaswetwithdew，greyandrigidasthefaceofacorpse。Anexpressionofdull，sullenangerwassetuponit，asthoughthepostmanwerestillinpainandstillangrywiththedriver。

“ThankGoditisdaylight！“saidthestudent，lookingathischilledandangryface。“Iamquitefrozen。ThenightsarecoldinSeptember，butassoonasthesunrisesitisn’tcold。Shallwesoonreachthestation？“

Thepostmanfrownedandmadeawryface。

“Howfondyouareoftalking，uponmyword！“hesaid。“Can’tyoukeepquietwhenyouaretravelling？“