ready the carriage, the hounds, and the saddle-horses--every detail
being minutely specified, and every horse called by its own particular
name. As Woloda's usual mount was lame, Papa ordered a 'hunter' to be
saddled for him; which term, 'hunter' so horrified Mamma's ears, that
she imagined it to be some kind of an animal which would at once run
away and bring about Woloda's death. Consequently, in spite of all
Papa's and Woloda's assurances (the latter glibly affirming that it was
nothing, and that he liked his horse to go fast), poor Mamma continued
to exclaim that her pleasure would be quite spoilt for her.
When luncheon was over, the grown-ups had coffee in the study, while
we younger ones ran into the garden and went chattering along the
undulating paths with their carpet of yellow leaves. We talked about
Woloda's riding a hunter and said what a shame it was that Lubotshka,
could not run as fast as Katenka, and what fun it would be if we could
see Grisha's chains, and so forth; but of the impending separation
we said not a word. Our chatter was interrupted by the sound of the
carriage driving up, with a village urchin perched on each of its
springs. Behind the carriage rode the huntsmen with the hounds, and
they, again, were followed by the groom Ignat on the steed intended
for Woloda, with my old horse trotting alongside. After running to
the garden fence to get a sight of all these interesting objects, and
indulging in a chorus of whistling and hallooing, we rushed upstairs to
dress--our one aim being to make ourselves look as like the huntsmen as
possible. The obvious way to do this was to tuck one's breeches inside
one's boots. We lost no time over it all, for we were in a hurry to run
to the entrance steps again there to feast our eyes upon the horses and
hounds, and to have a chat with the huntsmen. The day was exceedingly
warm while, though clouds of fantastic shape had been gathering on the
horizon since morning and driving before a light breeze across the sun,
it was clear that, for all their menacing blackness, they did not
really intend to form a thunderstorm and spoil our last day's pleasure.
Moreover, towards afternoon some of them broke, grew pale and elongated,
and sank to the horizon again, while others of them changed to the
likeness of white transparent fish-scales. In the east, over Maslovska,
a single lurid mass was louring, but Karl Ivanitch (who always seemed to
know the ways of the heavens) said that the weather would still continue
to be fair and dry.
In spite of his advanced years, it was in quite a sprightly manner that
Foka came out to the entrance steps, to give the order 'Drive up.'
In fact, as he planted his legs firmly apart and took up his station
between the lowest step and the spot where the coachman was to halt,
his mien was that of a man who knew his duties and had no need to be
reminded of them by anybody. Presently the ladies, also came out, and
after a little discussions as to seats and the safety of the girls (all
of which seemed to me wholly superfluous), they settled themselves in
the vehicle, opened their parasols, and started. As the carriage was,
driving away, Mamma pointed to the hunter and asked nervously 'Is that
the horse intended for Vladimir Petrovitch?' On the groom answering
in the affirmative, she raised her hands in horror and turned her head
away. As for myself, I was burning with impatience. Clambering on to
