petticoat--fluttered wildly in the wind. The white shirt in particular
struggled desperately, waving its sleeves about.

'There now, either a lazy woman or a dead one has not taken her clothes
down before the holiday,' remarked Nikita, looking at the fluttering
shirts.



III

At the entrance to the street the wind still raged and the road was
thickly covered with snow, but well within the village it was calm,
warm, and cheerful. At one house a dog was barking, at another a woman,
covering her head with her coat, came running from somewhere and entered
the door of a hut, stopping on the threshold to have a look at the
passing sledge. In the middle of the village girls could be heard
singing.

Here in the village there seemed to be less wind and snow, and the frost
was less keen.

'Why, this is Grishkino,' said Vasili Andreevich.

'So it is,' responded Nikita.

It really was Grishkino, which meant that they had gone too far to the
left and had travelled some six miles, not quite in the direction they
aimed at, but towards their destination for all that.