a long time Nikita lay motionless, then he sighed deeply and moved.

'There, and you say you are dying! Lie still and get warm, that's our
way . . .' began Vasili Andreevich.

But to his great surprise he could say no more, for tears came to his
eyes and his lower jaw began to quiver rapidly. He stopped speaking
and only gulped down the risings in his throat. 'Seems I was badly
frightened and have gone quite weak,' he thought. But this weakness was
not only unpleasant, but gave him a peculiar joy such as he had never
felt before.

'That's our way!' he said to himself, experiencing a strange and solemn
tenderness. He lay like that for a long time, wiping his eyes on the fur
of his coat and tucking under his knee the right skirt, which the wind
kept turning up.

But he longed so passionately to tell somebody of his joyful condition
that he said: 'Nikita!'

'It's comfortable, warm!' came a voice from beneath.

'There, you see, friend, I was going to perish. And you would have been
frozen, and I should have . . .'

But again his jaws began to quiver and his eyes to fill with tears, and
he could say no more.

'Well, never mind,' he thought. 'I know about myself what I know.'