LEBEDYAN
Prince N; beside him Hlopakov. Baklaga was driving . . . and how he drove! He could have driven them through an earring, the rascal! The bay trace-horses, little, keen, black-eyed, black-legged beasts, were all impatience; they kept rearing—a whistle, and off they would have bolted! The dark-bay shaft-horse stood firmly, its neck arched like a swan's, its breast forward, its legs like arrows, shaking its head and proudly blinking. . . . They were splendid! No one could desire a finer turn out for an Easter procession!
'Your excellency, please to come in!' cried Sitnikov.
The prince leaped out of the trap. Hlopakov slowly descended on the other side.
'Good morning, friend . . . any horses.'
'You may be sure we've horses for your excellency! Pray walk in. . . . Petya, bring out Peacock! and let them get Favourite ready too. And with you, sir,' he went on, turning to me, 'we'll settle matters another time. . . . Fomka, a bench for his excellency.'
From a special stable which I had not at first observed they led out Peacock. A powerful dark sorrel horse seemed to fly across the yard with all its legs in the air. Sitnikov even turned away his head and winked.
'Oh, rrakalion!' piped Hlopakov; 'Zhaymsah (j'aime ça.)'
The prince laughed.
Peacock was stopped with difficulty; he
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