straight, seeing nothing but the head of the horse and the white wilderness, and hearing nothing but the whistling of the wind about the ears of the horse and the collar of his pelisse.
Suddenly something black loomed out before him. His heart beat joyfully within him, and he went straight towards this black something, seeing in it already the walls of the houses of a village. But this black thing was not motionless, for it went on and on; it was not a village, but a boundary ridge overgrown with lofty mugwort[1] peeping up above the snow, and beaten all awry by the force of the wind whistling through it. And somehow or other the sight of this mugwort thus tormented by the pitiless wind, made Vasily Andreich tremble in sympathy, and he hastily urged his horse away, not observing as he did so that he had completely changed his former bearings, and was now urging his horse in quite another direction and away from where the forester's hut might have been. The horse indeed kept on turning to the right, whilst he himself for that very reason twisted him round to the left.
Again something black appeared in front of him. He rejoiced, for now, he fancied, this was really the village. But it was again the boundary ridge overgrown with the weeds of the steppes. Again the steppe-grass shivered tremulously, thereby inspiring Vasily Andreich with terror. Nor was this all. Not only was this the selfsame steppe-grass that he had seen before, but close beside him was a horse's track,
- ↑ Artemisia
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