the open country, and on both sides the road became lined with
huts--dwellings with straw roofs, carved porches, and small red or green
painted shutters to the windows, through which, here and there, was a
woman's face looking inquisitively out. Peasant children clad in smocks
only stood staring open-eyed or, stretching out their arms to us, ran
barefooted through the dust to climb on to the luggage behind, despite
Philip's menacing gestures. Likewise, red-haired waiters came darting
around the carriages to invite us, with words and signs, to select their
several hostelries as our halting-place.

Presently a gate creaked, and we entered a courtyard. Four hours of rest
and liberty now awaited us.




II. THE THUNDERSTORM

The sun was sinking towards the west, and his long, hot rays were
burning my neck and cheeks beyond endurance, while thick clouds of dust
were rising from the road and filling the whole air. Not the slightest
wind was there to carry it away. I could not think what to do. Neither
the dust-blackened face of Woloda dozing in a corner, nor the motion of
Philip's back, nor the long shadow of our britchka as it came bowling
along behind us brought me any relief. I concentrated my whole attention
upon the distance-posts ahead and the clouds which, hitherto dispersed
over the sky, were now assuming a menacing blackness, and beginning to
form themselves into a single solid mass.

From time to time distant thunder could be heard--a circumstance which