greatly increased my impatience to arrive at the inn where we were
to spend the night. A thunderstorm always communicated to me an
inexpressibly oppressive feeling of fear and gloom.

Yet we were still ten versts from the next village, and in the meanwhile
the large purple cloudbank--arisen from no one knows where--was
advancing steadily towards us. The sun, not yet obscured, was picking
out its fuscous shape with dazzling light, and marking its front with
grey stripes running right down to the horizon. At intervals, vivid
lightning could be seen in the distance, followed by low rumbles which
increased steadily in volume until they merged into a prolonged roll
which seemed to embrace the entire heavens. At length, Vassili got up
and covered over the britchka, the coachman wrapped himself up in
his cloak and lifted his cap to make the sign of the cross at each
successive thunderclap, and the horses pricked up their ears and
snorted as though to drink in the fresh air which the flying clouds were
outdistancing. The britchka began to roll more swiftly along the dusty
road, and I felt uneasy, and as though the blood were coursing more
quickly through my veins. Soon the clouds had veiled the face of
the sun, and though he threw a last gleam of light to the dark and
terrifying horizon, he had no choice but to disappear behind them.

Suddenly everything around us seemed changed, and assumed a gloomy
aspect. A wood of aspen trees which we were passing seemed to be all
in a tremble, with its leaves showing white against the dark lilac
background of the clouds, murmuring together in an agitated manner. The
tops of the larger trees began to bend to and fro, and dried leaves
and grass to whirl about in eddies over the road. Swallows and
white-breasted swifts came darting around the britchka and even passing
in front of the forelegs of the horses. While rooks, despite their