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'Well, well, take them back, in God's name, said Anastasei Ivanitch. 'Show us the others. Others were shown. At last I picked out one, rather a cheap one. We began to haggle over the price. Mr. Tchornobai did not get excited; he spoke so reasonably, with such dignity, that I could not help 'honouring' the old man; I gave him the earnest-money.
'To be sure ... we have got them to suit you, to be sure.... Nazar, Nazar, show the gentleman the grey gelding, you know, that stands at the farthest corner, and the sorrel with the star, or else the other sorrel foal of Beauty, you know. Nazar went back to the stable. 'And bring them out by their halters just as they are, Mr. Tchornobai shouted after him.
At the top there was a pen-and-ink sketch of a horse with a tail of the shape of a pipe and an endless neck, and below his hoofs were the following words, written in an old- fashioned hand: 'Here are for sale horses of various colours, brought to the Lebedyan fair from the celebrated steppes stud of Anastasei Ivanitch Tchornobai, landowner of Tambov.
Nazar, a wrinkled old man with a little hawk nose and a wedge-shaped beard, showed himself at the stable door. 'What sort of horses is it you're wanting, my dear sir? resumed Mr. Tchornobai. 'Not too expensive; for driving in my covered gig.
These horses are of excellent sort; broken in to perfection, and free from vice. Purchasers will kindly ask for Anastasei Ivanitch himself: should Anastasei Ivanitch be absent, then ask for Nazar Kubishkin, the coachman. Gentlemen about to purchase, kindly honour an old man. I stopped. 'Come, I thought, 'let's have a look at the horses of the celebrated steppes breeder, Mr. Tchornobai.
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