As soon as his vehicle had entered these streets, Poldik might have sat in his cart and gone to sleep; his horses would have found their way as we say “blindfold.” They knew hardly any other road. They were like the bucket of a well: we let it down one way and draw it up the same without a span breadth of difference, but always the same; and if they had awoke some morning in any of the streets, Poldik need never have opened his lips; they would have gone on of their own accord like automata through that portion of their circuit which was yet before them, be it to Naplavka or from Naplavka to the building steads. So perfectly familiar to them was this road that they knew instinctively where the ale-house was, where was the blacksmith’s forge, where the fruit stall, and where Poldik bought his tobacco.
Very frequently they stopped at the ale-house without Poldik’s bidding: and only again jogged on with the vehicle when their master tugged at the reins and said gee up or swore at them. But it also very frequently happened that their master did not tug the reins or say ‘gee up’ or swear at them; but let the reins hang loose by the cart and with heavy steps slouched into the ale-house. Much the same occurred at the blacksmith’s shop; here they generally stopped of their own accord for certain, because whenever they lost a shoe Poldik swore at them then and there, and that was a sign that they would get a fresh shoe at the blacksmith’s. As for
