ed, well-groomed,
thoroughbred horses harnessed to a carriage, the black lacquer of which
glistened in the sun. The coachman was seated on the box in a kaftan,
with a silver belt, and the horses were jingling their silver bells from
time to time.

A bare-headed, barefooted peasant in a ragged kaftan stood at the front
door. He bowed. Volgin asked what he wanted.

"I have come to see Nicholas Petrovich."

"What about?"

"Because I am in distress--my horse has died."

Volgin began to question him. The peasant told him how he was situated.
He had five children, and this had been his only horse. Now it was gone.
He wept.

"What are you going to do?"

"To beg." And he knelt down, and remained kneeling in spite of Volgin's
expostulations.

"What is your name?"

"Mitri Sudarikov," answered the peasant, still kneeling.

Volgin took three roubles from his purse and gave them to the peasant,
who showed his gratitude by touching the ground with his forehead, and
then went into the house. His host was standing in the hall.

"Where is your letter?" he asked, approaching Volgin; "I am just off."

"I'm awfully sorry, I'll write it this minute, if you will let me.
I forgot all about it. It's so pleasant here that one can forget
anything."

"All right, but do be quick. The horses have already been standing a
quarter of an hour, and the flies are biting viciously. Can you wait,
Arsenty?" he asked the coachman.

"Why not?" said the coachman, thinking to himself, "why do they order
the horses when they aren't ready? The rush the grooms and I had--just
to stand here and feed the flies."

"Directly, directly," Volgin went towards his room, but turned back to
ask Nicholas Petrovich about the begging peasant.

"Did you see him?--He's a drunkard, but still he is to be pitied. Do be
quick!"

Volgin got out his case, with all the requisites for writing, wrote the
letter, made out a cheque for a hundred and eighty roubles, and, sealing
down the envelope, took it to Nicholas Petrovich.

"Good-bye."

Volgin read the newspapers till luncheon. He only read the Liberal
papers: The Russian Gazette, Speech, sometimes The Russian Word--but he
would not touch The New Times, to which his host subscribed.

While he was scanning at his ease the political news, the Tsar's doings,
the doings of President, and ministers and decisions in the Duma,
and was just about to pass on to the general news, theatres, science,
murders and cholera