A Sportsman's Sketches Volume I Part 33

'You want a little horse? By all means, my dear sir, by all means....

But won't you step in and drink just a cup of tea with me first?'

I declined and thanked him.

'Well, well, as you please. You must excuse me, my dear sir; you see I'm old-fashioned.' (Mr. Tchorn.o.bai spoke with deliberation, and in a broad Doric.) 'Everything with me is done in a plain way, you know....

Nazar, hey, Nazar!' he added, not raising his voice, but prolonging each syllable. Nazar, a wrinkled old man with a little hawk nose and a wedge-shaped beard, showed himself at the stable door.

'What sort of horses is it you're wanting, my dear sir?' resumed Mr.

Tchorn.o.bai.

'Not too expensive; for driving in my covered gig.'

'To be sure ... we have got them to suit you, to be sure.... Nazar, Nazar, show the gentleman the grey gelding, you know, that stands at the farthest corner, and the sorrel with the star, or else the other sorrel--foal of Beauty, you know.'

Nazar went back to the stable.

'And bring them out by their halters just as they are,' Mr. Tchorn.o.bai shouted after him. 'You won't find things with me, my good sir,' he went on, with a clear mild gaze into my face, 'as they are with the horse-dealers; confound their tricks! There are drugs of all sorts go in there, salt and malted grains; G.o.d forgive them! But with me, you will see, sir, everything's above-board; no underhandedness.'

The horses were led in; I did not care for them.

'Well, well, take them back, in G.o.d's name,' said Anastasei Ivanitch.

'Show us the others.'

Others were shown. At last I picked out one, rather a cheap one. We began to haggle over the price. Mr. Tchorn.o.bai did not get excited; he spoke so reasonably, with such dignity, that I could not help 'honouring' the old man; I gave him the earnest-money.

'Well, now,' observed Anastasei Ivanitch, 'allow me to give over the horse to you from hand to hand, after the old fashion.... You will thank me for him ... as sound as a nut, see ... fresh ... a true child of the steppes! Goes well in any harness.'

He crossed himself, laid the skirt of his coat over his hand, took the halter, and handed me the horse.

'You're his master now, with G.o.d's blessing.... And you still won't take a cup of tea?'

'No, I thank you heartily; it's time I was going home.'

'That's as you think best.... And shall my coachman lead the horse after you?'

'Yes, now, if you please.'

'By all means, my dear sir, by all means.... Va.s.sily, hey, Va.s.sily!

step along with the gentleman, lead the horse, and take the money for him. Well, good-bye, my good sir; G.o.d bless you.'

'Good-bye, Anastasei Ivanitch.'

They led the horse home for me. The next day he turned out to be broken-winded and lame. I tried having him put in harness; the horse backed, and if one gave him a flick with the whip he jibbed, kicked, and positively lay down. I set off at once to Mr. Tchorn.o.bai's. I inquired: 'At home?'

'Yes.'

'What's the meaning of this?' said I; 'here you've sold me a broken- winded horse.'

'Broken-winded?... G.o.d forbid!'

'Yes, and he's lame too, and vicious besides.'

'Lame! I know nothing about it: your coachman must have ill-treated him somehow.... But before G.o.d, I--'

'Look here, Anastasei Ivanitch, as things stand, you ought to take him back.'

'No, my good sir, don't put yourself in a pa.s.sion; once gone out of the yard, is done with. You should have looked before, sir.'

I understood what that meant, accepted my fate, laughed, and walked off. Luckily, I had not paid very dear for the lesson.

Two days later I left, and in a week I was again at Lebedyan on my way home again. In the _cafe_ I found almost the same persons, and again I came upon Prince N----at billiards. But the usual change in the fortunes of Mr. Hlopakov had taken place in this interval: the fair- haired young officer had supplanted him in the prince's favours. The poor ex-lieutenant once more tried letting off his catchword in my presence, on the chance it might succeed as before; but, far from smiling, the prince positively scowled and shrugged his shoulders. Mr.

Hlopakov looked downcast, shrank into a corner, and began furtively filling himself a pipe....

END OF VOL. I.