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"Stop!" cried Kuzmitchov. "Pull up! Woa!" Deniska threw his whole body backwards and pulled up the horses. "Come here!" Kuzmitchov shouted to the shepherd. "Call off the dogs, curse them!"
A black dog with its tongue hanging out ran from the mowers to meet the chaise, probably with the intention of barking, but stopped halfway and stared indifferently at Deniska, who shook his whip at him; it was too hot to bark! One peasant woman got up and, putting both hands to her aching back, followed Yegorushka's red shirt with her eyes.
"Father Christopher, get up; it is time to start," he said anxiously. "Wake up; we've slept too long as it is! Deniska, put the horses in." Father Christopher woke up with the same smile with which he had fallen asleep; his face looked creased and wrinkled from sleep, and seemed only half the size.
Deniska, who was fond of teasing and beating, was delighted at the chance of it, and with a malignant expression bent over and lashed at the sheep-dogs with his whip.
In the same way little dogs see nothing strange in it when a simple-hearted big dog joins their company uninvited and begins playing with them. Deniska outstripped Yegorushka, and was evidently very much pleased at having done so.
"Yegorushka, Yegorushka!" he heard two bass voices whisper. "Get up; it is time to start." Somebody, it seemed to be Deniska, set him on his feet and led him by the arm. On the way he half-opened his eyes and once more saw the beautiful lady in the black dress who had kissed him.
Several hands caught him, lifted him high into the air, and he found himself on something big, soft, and rather wet with dew. It seemed to him now as though the sky were quite close and the earth far away. "Hey, take his little coat!" Deniska shouted from somewhere far below. His coat and bundle flung up from far below fell close to Yegorushka.
Without speaking, he brooded over something pleasant and nice, and a kindly, genial smile remained imprinted on his face. It seemed as though some nice and pleasant thought were imprinted on his brain by the heat. "Well, Deniska, shall we overtake the waggons to-day?" asked Kuzmitchov.
The brutes growled more than ever, the horses flew on; and Yegorushka, who had difficulty in keeping his seat on the box, realized, looking at the dogs' eyes and teeth, that if he fell down they would instantly tear him to bits; but he felt no fear and looked at them as malignantly as Deniska, and regretted that he had no whip in his hand. The chaise came upon a flock of sheep.
Who was this elusive, mysterious Varlamov of whom people talked so much, whom Solomon despised, and whom even the beautiful countess needed? Sitting on the box beside Deniska, Yegorushka, half asleep, thought about this person. He had never seen him. But he had often heard of him and pictured him in his imagination.
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