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.