The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy/Childhood/Chapter 6
VI.
Preparation for the Hunt
Yákov was called during the dessert and orders were given in regard to the carriage, the dogs, and the saddle-horses, — all this with the minutest details, calling each horse by its name.
As Volódya's horse was lame, papa ordered a hunter's horse to be saddled for him. This word, "hunter's horse," somehow sounded strange in mamma's ears; it seemed to her that a hunter's horse must be some kind of a ferocious animal, which must by all means run away with and kill Volódya. In spite of the assurance of papa and of Volódya, who said with remarkable pluck that it was all nothing and that he was very fond of being carried rapidly by a horse, poor mamma continued saying that she should be worrying during the whole picnic.
The dinner came to an end. The grown people went into the cabinet to drink coffee, and we ran into the garden, to scuff along the paths, which were covered with fallen yellow leaves, and to have a chat. We began to talk about Volódya's riding on a hunter's horse, about its being a shame that Lyúbochka did not run so fast as Kátenka, about its being interesting to get a look at Grísha's chains, and so on, but not a word was said of our departure. Our conversation was interrupted by the rattle of the approaching carriage, on each spring of which a village boy was seated. Behind the carriage followed the hunters with their dogs, and behind the hunters, coachman Ignát, riding on the horse which was intended for Volódya, and leading my old nag by the hand. At first we all rushed to the fence, from which all these interesting things could be seen, and then we all ran up-stairs shouting and rattling, to get dressed, and to get dressed in such a manner as to resemble hunters most. One of the chief means for obtaining that end was to tuck our pantaloons into our boots. We betook ourselves to that work without any loss of time, hastening to get done as soon as possible and to run out on the veranda, to enjoy the sight of the dogs and of the horses, and to have a chat with the hunters.
It was a hot day. White, fantastic clouds had appeared in the horizon early in the morning; then a soft breeze began to drive them nearer and nearer, so that at times they shrouded the sun. Though the clouds moved about and grew dark, it was, evidently, not fated that they should gather into a storm-cloud and break up our last enjoyment. Toward evening they again began to scatter: they grew paler, lengthened out, and ran down to the horizon; others, above our very heads, changed into white, transparent scales; only one large, black cloud hovered somewhere in the east. Karl Ivánovich always knew whither each cloud went. He announced that that cloud would go to Máslovka, that there would be no rain, and that the weather would be fine.
Fóka, in spite of his declining years, very nimbly and rapidly ran down-stairs, called out, "Drive up!" and, spreading his feet, planted himself in the middle of the driveway, between the place where the coachman was to drive up the carriage and the threshold, in the attitude of a man who need not be reminded of his duties. The ladies came down, and after a short discussion where each one was to sit, and to whom each one was to hold on (though, it seemed to me, there was no need at all to hold on), they seated themselves, opened their parasols, and started. As the carriage moved off, mamma pointed to the "hunter's horse" and asked the coachman with a quivering voice:
"Is this horse for Vladímir Petróvich?"
When the coachman answered in the affirmative, she waved her hand and turned away. I was in great impatience. I mounted my pony, looked between its ears, and made all kinds of evolutions in the yard.
"Please not to crush the dogs," said a hunter to me.
"Have no fear, this is not my first time," answered I, proudly.
Volódya seated himself on the "hunter's horse" not without a certain trembling, in spite of the firmness of his character, and, patting it, asked several times:
"Is it a gentle horse?"
He looked very well on a horse, just like a grown person. His tightly stretched thighs lay so well on the saddle that I was envious, because, as far as I could judge by the shadow, I did not make such a fine appearance.
Then papa's steps were heard on the staircase. The dog-keeper collected the hounds that had run ahead. The hunters with their greyhounds called up their dogs, and all mounted their horses. The groom led a horse up to the veranda. The dogs of father's leash, that had been lying before in various artistic positions near the horse, now rushed up to him. Mílka ran out after him, in a beaded collar, tinkling her iron clapper. Whenever she came out, she greeted the dogs of the kennel; with some of them she played, others she scented or growled at, and on others, again, she looked for fleas.
Papa mounted his horse, and we started.