Мертві душі

           Thehorsessteppedbackalittle,andthencametogetheragain—thistimegettingalegortwooverthetraces.Infact,sopleaseddidtheskewbaldseemwithhisnewfriendsthatherefusedtostirfromthemeleeintowhichanunforeseenchancehadplungedhim.Layinghismuzzlelovinglyupontheneckofoneofhisrecently-acquiredacquaintances,heseemedtobewhisperingsomethinginthatacquaintance’sear—andwhisperingprettynonsense,too,tojudgefromthewayinwhichthatconfidantkeptshakinghisears.

           Atlengthpeasantsfromavillagewhichhappenedtobenearthesceneoftheaccidenttackledthemess;andsinceaspectacleofthatkindistotheRussianmuzhikwhatanewspaperoraclub-meetingistotheGerman,thevehiclessoonbecamethecentreofacrowd,andthevillagedenudedevenofitsoldwomenandchildren.Thetracesweredisentangled,andafewslapsonthenoseforcedtheskewbaldtodrawbackalittle;afterwhichtheteamswerestraightenedoutandseparated.Nevertheless,eithersheerobstinacyorvexationatbeingpartedfromtheirnewfriendscausedthestrangeteamabsolutelytorefusetomovealeg.Theirdriverlaidthewhipaboutthem,butstilltheystoodasthoughrootedtothespot.Atlengththeparticipatoryeffortsofthepeasantsrosetoanunprecedenteddegreeofenthusiasm,andtheyshoutedinanintermittentchorustheadvice,“Doyou,Andrusha,taketheheadofthetracehorseontheright,whileUncleMitaimountstheshafthorse.Getup,UncleMitai.