But to me the wind did not seem very strong. I hoped to arrive in
time for the next relay of horses. I gave orders, therefore, to
redouble our speed. The coachman put his horses to the gallop,
and kept his eyes to the east.

The wind blew harder and harder. The little cloud soon became a
great white mass, rising heavily, growing, extending, and finally
invading the whole sky. A fine snow began to fall, which suddenly
changed to immense flakes. The wind whistled and howled. It was
a _chasse-neige_--a snowdrift.

In an instant the somber sky was confounded with the sea of snow which
the wind raised up from the earth. Every thing was indistinguishable.

"Woe, to us! my lord," cried the coachman, "it is a whirlwind of snow!"

I put my head out of the kibitka--darkness and storm. The wind blew
with an expression so ferocious that it seemed a living creature.

The snow fell in large flakes upon us, covering us. The horses went
at a walking pace, but very soon stood still.

"Why do you not go on?" I said to the coachman.

"Go where?" he replied, as he got down from the kibitka. "God knows
where we are now! There is no road; all is darkness."

I began to scold him. Saveliitch took up his defense:

"Why did you not listen to him," said he, angrily; "you could have