"I should love it."
Thus it came about that a single sleigh was speeding across the plain of
Tver.
Paul, with the composure that comes of a large experience, gathered the
reins in his two hands, driving with both and with extended arms, after
the manner of Russian yemschiks. For a man must accommodate himself to
circumstance, and fingerless gloves are not conducive to a finished
style of handling the ribbons.
This driver knew that the next station was twenty miles off; that at any
moment the horses might break down or plunge into a drift. He knew that
in the event of such emergencies it would be singularly easy for four
people to die of cold within a few miles of help. But he had faced such
possibilities a hundred times before in this vast country, where the
standard price of a human life is no great sum. He was not, therefore,
dismayed, but rather took delight in battling with the elements, as all
strong men should, and most of them, thank Heaven, do.
Moreover he battled successfully, and before the moon was well up drew
rein outside the village of Osterno, to accede at last to the
oft-repeated prayer of the driver that he might return to his task.
"It is not meet," the man had gruffly said, whenever a short halt was
made to change horses, "that a great prince should drive a yemschik."
"It is meet," answered Paul simply, "for one man to help another.
Pages:
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249