the proverb, 'Take care of your coat while
it is new, and of your honour while it is
white.' " A hare-skin touloup, or cape, was
thrown about me, and over it a fox-skin cloak.
Thus equipped, I took my seat in the kibitka,
and left my parents, accompanied by
Savéliitch.

We arrived that night at Simbirsk, where
I committed my first folly by losing one
hundred roubles at billiards, while Savéliitch
was out, executing some orders from home
with which he had been entrusted. I lost
this sum to Ivan Lowrine, a captain of
hussars. On this occasion I also became
intoxicated for the first time. Savéliitch
hastened my departure the following morning,
and reluctantly paid my losses. I promised
him that, henceforth, I would not spend a
single kopek without his consent.

We travelled rapidly; and, as we approached
our destination, the country became a
measureless waste, covered with snow.
Presently, the coachman, taking off his hat,
asked me anxiously whether we should not
return; and, pointing to a white cloud far
in the east, said, "That is the bourane!"

I had heard of the bourane, and I knew
that it sometimes buried whole caravans of
travellers. I knew it to be a tremendous
cloud of snow, out of which few people, once
fairly in it, ever made their way. But this
one seemed to me to be a long way off, so
I told the coachman to drive forward. We
went at full gallop. The wind rose rapidly,
however; the little white cloud became a
huge moving snow mountain; very fine
flakes began to fall about us; then the wind
howled, and in a few minutes we could not
see an inch beyond our noses. It was, in
truth, the bourane. The horses stopped;
the snow began to bury us; Savéliitch began
to scold; the coachman played nervously
with the horses' harness—and no house could
be seen. We had begun to believe we
should be soon buried alive, when we
suddenly perceived a black object near us, which
we were afraid was a wolf, but which turned
out to be a man. We asked our way; he
replied that he knew the country under
ordinary circumstances, but could not
distinguish anything then. Suddenly he cried,
"Turn to the left—there you will find a
house: I smell the smoke."

The coachman managed to whip the horses
into unusual exertion, and we presently
reached a hut lighted by a loutchina (a deal
stick which serves for a candle). The
ornaments of the little room into which we were
ushered were a carbine and a Cossack hat.
The Cossack host got us some tea; and then
I inquired for a guide. Some one called out
from a recess that he was cold, for he had
pawned his touloup the day before, for
brandy. I offered him a cup of tea, and he
advanced to drink it. He was a remarkable
fellow in appearance: tall, with very broad
shoulders. He wore a black beard, and short
hair; his eyes were restless and large; the
expression of his face was at times agreeable,
at times malicious. He preferred brandy to
tea; and having held a mysterious
conversation with the host, he retired for the night.
I did not like the look of affairs; the hut was
in the middle of the steppe—very lonely, and
very like the meeting-place for thieves.

But we were not robbed; and, the following
morning, as we left to proceed on our journey,
I gave my hare-skin touloup, much against
my servant's wish, to the guide who had led
us to the house. The guide was grateful,
and promised that if ever he could be of
service to me I should be served. At that
time the promise seemed sufficiently
ridiculous.

We arrived without further adventure at
Orenberg, where I presented my letter to the
general, who received me kindly, and then
sent me to serve, under the orders of Captain
Mirinoff, in the fort of Bélogorsk. This did
not please me. The fort was a wretched little
village, surrounded by palisades. I stopped
before a little wooden house, which, I was
informed, was the commandant's. I entered. In
the antechamber I found an old man, seated
upon a table, occupied in sewing a blue patch
upon one of the elbows of a green uniform.
He beckoned me into the inner chamber. It
was a clean little room, with an officer's
commission, neatly framed, hanging against the
wall, and rude prints surrounding it. In one
corner of the room an old lady, with a
handkerchief bound round her head, was
unwinding some thread from the hands of a
little old man with only one eye, who wore
an officer's uniform. The old lady, on seeing
me, said:

"Ivan Kourmitch is not at home; but I
am his wife. Be good enough to love us, and
take a seat, my little father."

I obeyed, and the old lady sent for her
subaltern, the ouriadnik. While the servant
was gone, the lady and the officer both
questioned me, and judged that it was for
some offence that I was sent to Bélogorsk.
The lady informed me that Chvabrine, an
officer at Bélogorsk, had been sent thither for
duelling. The ouriadnik appeared, and was
a fine specimen of a Cossack officer.

"Quarter Piote Andréïtch," said the old
lady, "upon Siméon Kouroff. The fellow
let his horse break into my garden."

These, my quarters, looked out upon the
dreary steppe. The next morning a little fellow,
with a remarkably vivacious appearance, came
to see me. I found that he was Chvabrine, the
duellist. His lively conversation amused me,
and we went together that day to the
commandant's house to dinner. As we approached
it I saw about twenty little old invalids, wearing
long tails, and three-cornered hats, ranged
in order of battle. The commandant, a tall
hale old man, dressed in a cotton nightcap
and a morning gown, was reviewing this
terrible force. He spoke some civil words to