letting the borzois slip he galloped toward the count.
The count and Semën galloped out of the wood and saw on their left a wolf which, softly swaying from side to side, was coming at a quiet lope farther to the left to the very place where they were standing.
The angry borzois whined and getting free of the leash rushed past the horses’ feet at the wolf.
The wolf paused, turned its heavy forehead toward the dogs awkwardly, like a man suffering from the quinsy, and, still slightly swaying from side to side, gave a couple of leaps and with a swish of its tail disappeared into the skirt of the wood.
At the same instant, with a cry like a wail, first one hound, then another, and then another, sprang helter-skelter from the wood opposite and the whole pack rushed across the field toward the very spot where the wolf had disappeared.
The hazel bushes parted behind the hounds and Danílo’s chestnut horse appeared, dark with sweat. On its long back sat Danílo, hunched forward, capless, his disheveled gray hair hanging over his flushed, perspiring face.
“ Ulyulyulyu! ulyulyu! … ” he cried. When he caught sight of the count his eyes flashed lightning.
“Blast you!” he shouted, holding up his whip threateningly at the count.
“You’ve let the wolf go! … What sportsmen!” and as if scorning to say more to the frightened and shamefaced count, he lashed the heaving flanks of his sweating chestnut gelding with all the anger the count had aroused and flew off after the hounds. The count, like a punished schoolboy, looked round, trying by a smile to win Semën’s sympathy for his plight. But