discourse that it had taken to scarcely
placing one leg before the other). Unfortunately, Selifan could not
clearly remember whether two turnings had been passed or three. Indeed,
on collecting his faculties, and dimly recalling the lie of the road,
he became filled with a shrewd suspicion that A VERY LARGE NUMBER of
turnings had been passed. But since, at moments which call for a hasty
decision, a Russian is quick to discover what may conceivably be
the best course to take, our coachman put away from him all ulterior
reasoning, and, turning to the right at the next cross-road, shouted,
"Hi, my beauties!" and set off at a gallop. Never for a moment did he
stop to think whither the road might lead him!

It was long before the clouds had discharged their burden, and,
meanwhile, the dust on the road became kneaded into mire, and the
horses' task of pulling the britchka heavier and heavier. Also,
Chichikov had taken alarm at his continued failure to catch sight of
Sobakevitch's country house. According to his calculations, it ought to
have been reached long ago. He gazed about him on every side, but the
darkness was too dense for the eye to pierce.

"Selifan!" he exclaimed, leaning forward in the britchka.

"What is it, barin?" replied the coachman.

"Can you see the country house anywhere?"

"No, barin." After which, with a flourish of the whip, the man broke
into a sort of endless, drawling song. In that song everything had
a place. By "everything" I mean both the various encouraging and
stimulating cries with which Russian folk urge on their horses, and a
random, unpremeditated selection of adjectives.

Meanwhile Chichikov began to notice that the britchka was swaying
violently, and dealing him occasional bumps. Consequently he suspected
that it had left the road and was being dragged over a ploughed field.
Upon Selifan's mind there appeared to have dawned a similar inkling, for
he had ceased to hold forth.

"You rascal, what road are you following?" inquired Chichikov.

"I don't know," retorted the coachman. "What can a man do at a time of
night when the darkness won't let him even see his whip?" And as Selifan
spoke the vehicle tilted to an angle which left Chichikov no choice but
to hang on with hands and teeth. At length he realised the fact that
Selifan was drunk.

"Stop, stop, or you will upset us!" he shouted to the fellow.

"No, no, barin," replied Selifan. "HOW could I upset you? To upset
people is w