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"Take a seat here, or better here," said Shoustova, pointing to the battered easy-chair from which the young man had just risen. "My cousin, Zakharov," she said, noticing that Nekhludoff looked at the young man. The young man greeted the visitor with a smile as kindly as Shoustova's, and when Nekhludoff sat down he brought himself another chair, and sat by his side.
'What is that? he added, pointing to some potato vines that showed up from under the snow. Vasili Andreevich stopped the perspiring horse, whose deep sides were heaving heavily. 'What is it? 'Why, we are on the Zakharov lands. See where we've got to! 'Nonsense! retorted Vasili Andreevich. 'It's not nonsense, Vasili Andreevich. It's the truth, replied Nikita.
'You can feel that the sledge is going over a potato-field, and there are the heaps of vines which have been carted here. It's the Zakharov factory land. 'Dear me, how we have gone astray! said Vasili Andreevich. 'What are we to do now? 'We must go straight on, that's all. We shall come out somewhere if not at Zakharova, then at the proprietor's farm, said Nikita.
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