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More Tales from Tolstoi torn up by the curved shafts of the sledge and the hoofs of the horses. The little sledge-bell began to be silent, a current of cold air began to flow from some opening into my sleeve and down my back, and the advice of the inspector not to go at all, lest I should wander about the whole night and be frozen to death on the road, at once occurred to me.

"Haven't we lost our way?" I said to the driver; and receiving no answer, I repeated the question in a still plainer form: "Do you think we shall reach the post-station, driver, or shall we lose our way?"

"God knows!" he replied, without turning his head, "it's only human to go astray, and the road is nowhere visible, my little master!"

"Will you tell me whether you think we shall get to the post-station or not?" I continued to ask. "Shall we get there, I say?"

"We ought to get there," said the driver, and he murmured something else which I could not quite catch because of the wind.

I didn't want to turn back, but to wander about all night in the frost and snow in the absolutely barren steppe as this part of the military district of the Don really is, was also not a very pleasant prospect to contemplate. Moreover, although I was unable to examine him very well in the darkness, my driver, somehow or other, did not please me, nor did he inspire me with confidence. He sat squarely instead of sideways; his body was too big; his voice had too much of a drawl; his hat, somehow or other, was not a driver's hat—it was too big and bulgy; he did not urge on the horses as he should have done; he