“Impossible! Even your omnipotence could not accomplish that!”

“Impossible? Will you bet?”

“All right! If you spend the night with him, the stake shall be whatever you like.”

“A discrétion !”

“But on your side too!”

“Yes, of course. Let us drive on.”

Vodka was handed to the drivers, and the party got out a box of pies, wine, and sweets for themselves. The ladies wrapped up in their white dogskins. The drivers disputed as to whose troika should go ahead, and the youngest, seating himself sideways with a dashing air, swung his long knout and shouted to the horses. The troika-bells tinkled and the sledge-runners squeaked over the snow.