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When his fright was over the student felt amused and good…humoured。
It was the first time in his life that he had driven by night in a mail cart；
and the shaking he had just been through； the postman's having been
thrown out； and the pain in his own back struck him as interesting
adventures。 He lighted a cigarette and said with a laugh：
〃Why you know； you might break your neck like that！ I very nearly
flew out； and I didn't even notice you had been thrown out。 I can fancy
what it is like driving in autumn！〃
The postman did not speak。
〃Have you been going with the post for long？〃 the student asked。
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〃Eleven years。〃
〃Oho； every day？〃
〃Yes； every day。 I take this post and drive back again at once。 Why？〃
Making the journey every day； he must have had a good many
interesting adventures in eleven years。 On bright summer and gloomy
autumn nights； or in winter when a ferocious snowstorm whirled howling
round the mail cart； it must have been hard to avoid feeling frightened and
uncanny。 No doubt more than once the horses had bolted； the mail cart had
stuck in the mud； they had been attacked by highwaymen； or had lost their
way i n the blizzard。 。 。 。
〃I can fancy what adventures you must have had in eleven years！〃 said
the student。 〃I expect it must be terrible driving？〃
He said this and expected that the postman would tell him something；
but the latter preserved a sullen silence and retreated into his collar。
Meanwhile it began to get light。 The sky changed colour imperceptibly； it
still seemed dark； but by now the horses and the driver and the road could
be seen。 The crescent moon looked bigger and bigger； and the cloud that
stretched below it； shaped like a cannon in a gun…carriage； showed a faint
yellow on its lower edge。 Soon the postman's face was visible。 It was wet
with dew； grey and rigid as the face of a corpse。 An expression of dull；
sullen anger was set upon it； as though the postman were still in pain and
still angry with the driver。
〃Thank God it is daylight！〃 said the student； looking at his chilled and
angry face。 〃I am quite frozen。 The nights are cold in September； but as
soon as the sun rises it isn't cold。 Shall we soon reach the station？〃
The postman frowned and made a wry face。
〃How fond you are of talking； upon my word！〃 he said。 〃Can't you
keep quiet when you are travelling？〃
The student was confused； and did not approach him again all the
journey。 The morning came on rapidly。 The moon turned pale and melted
away into the dull grey sky； the cloud turned yellow all over； the stars
grew dim； but the east was still cold…looking and the same colour as the
rest of the sky； so that one could hardly believe the sun was hidden in it。
The chill of the morning and the surliness of the postman gradually
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infected the student。 He looked apathetically at the country around him；
waited for the warmth of the sun； and thought of nothing but how dreadful
and horrible it must be for the poor trees and the grass to endure the cold
nights。 The sun rose dim； drowsy； and cold。 The tree…tops were not gilded
by the rays of the rising sun； as usually described； the sunbeams did not
creep over the earth and there was no sign of joy in the flight of the sleepy
birds。 The cold remained just the same now that the sun was up as it had
been in the night。
The student looked drowsily and ill…humouredly at the curtained
windows of a mansion by which the mail cart drove。 Behind those
windows； he thought； people were most likely enjoying their soundest
morning sleep not hearing the bells； nor feeling the cold； nor seeing the
postman's angry face； and if the bell did wake some young lady； she would
turn over on the other side； smile in the fulness of her warmth and comfort；
and； drawing up her feet and putting her hand under her cheek； would go
off to sleep more soundly than ever。
The student looked at the pond which gleamed near the house and
thought of the carp and the pike which find it possible to live in cold
water。 。 。 。
〃It's against the regulations to take anyone with the post。 。 。 。〃 the
postman said unexpectedly。 〃It's not allowed！ And since it is not allowed；
people have no business 。 。 。 to get in。 。 。 。 Yes。 It makes no difference to
me； it's true； only I don't like it； and I don't wish it。〃
〃Why didn't you say so before； if you don't like it？〃
The postman made no answer but still had an unfriendly； angry
expression。 When； a little later； the horses stopped at the entrance of the
station the student thanked him and got out of the cart。 The mail train had
not yet come in。 A long goods train stood in a siding； in the tender the
engine driver and his assistant； with faces wet with dew； were drinking tea
from a dirty tin teapot。 The carriages； the platforms； the seats were all wet
and cold。 Until the train came in the student stood at the buffet drinking
tea while the postman； with his hands thrust up his sleeves and the same
look of anger still on his face； paced up and down the platform in solitude；
staring at the ground under his feet。
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With whom was he angry？ Was it with people； with poverty； with the
autmn nights？
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THE NEW VILLA
I
Two miles from the village of Obrutchanovo a huge bridge was being
built。 From the village； which stood up high on the steep river…bank； its
trellis…like skeleton could be seen； and in foggy weather and on still winter
days； when its delicate iron girders and all the scaffolding around was
covered with hoar frost； it presented a picturesque and even fantastic
spectacle。 Kutcherov； the engineer who was building the bridge； a stout；
broad…shouldered； bearded man in a soft crumpled cap drove through the
village in hi