XI
Not entering the town, Albína stopped on the left bank of the Vólga, in the Pokróvsky suburb, just opposite Sarátof itself. Here she hoped to be able to speak to her husband during the night, and even to let him out of his box. But the Cossack never left the tarantass during the whole of the short spring night, but sat near it in a cart that stood under the same shed. Ludwíka, by Albína’s orders, remained in the tarantass, and feeling sure it was because of her that the Cossack remained near it, she winked, laughed, and hid her pockmarked face in her kerchief. But Albína saw nothing amusing in this now, and became more and more anxious; wondering why the Cossack remained so persistently near the tarantass.
Several times during that short night, in which the evening twilight melted into the twilight of dawn, Albína left the inn, and, passing through a passage which smelt foully, came out into the back porch. The Cossack did not sleep, but sat in the empty cart beside the tarantass, with his legs hanging down. Only just before daybreak, when the cocks were already awake and crowing to one another from yard to yard, Albína went down and found time to speak to her husband. The Cossack, lying stretched out in the cart, was snoring. She came carefully up to the tarantass, and knocked at the box.
“Josy!”
No answer.
“Josy! Josy!” she said louder, quite frightened.
“What’s the matter?” asked Migoúrski, in a sleepy voice, inside the box.
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“I was asleep,” he said, and by the sound of his voice she knew that he was smiling.
“Well, can I get out?” he asked.
“No! the Cossack is here;” and, saying this, she glanced at the Cossack sleeping in the cart.
And, strange to say, though the Cossack was snoring, his kind blue eyes were open. He looked at her, and only when their glances met did he shut his eyes again.
“Was it only my fancy, or was he really awake?” Albína asked herself. “It must have been my fancy,” she thought, and again turned to the box.
“Bear it a bit longer,” she said. “Do you want something to eat?”
“No; I want to smoke.”
Albína looked at the Cossack. He was asleep.
“Yes, I only fancied it,” she thought.
“Now I shall go and see the Governor.”
“Well, then, good luck to you!”
Albína took a dress from her portmanteau and went into the inn to change the one she was wearing.
Dressed in her best widow’s mourning, Albína crossed the Vólga. Hiring an isvóztchik on the quay, she drove to the Governor’s. The Governor received her. The pretty, smiling Polish widow, speaking excellent French, pleased the would-be-young old Governor very much. He granted all she asked, and bade her call again next day, to receive an order to the Mayor of Tsarítsin.
Pleased at the success of her application, and by the effect she noticed that her attractiveness produced on the Governor’s manners, Albína returned happy and hopeful. She descended the hill in a tarantass, driving along the unpaved street back to the landing. The sun had risen above the forest, and its slanting rays played on the rippling waters of the wide overflow of the river. Apple-trees, covered with sweet blossoms, appeared like white clouds to right and left. A forest of masts was seen along the banks, and white sails gleamed on the surface of the broad overflow, ruffled by a gentle breeze. At the landing, after some talk with her driver, Albína inquired whether she could hire a boat to take her to Astrakhán; and dozens of noisy, merry boatmen offered her their services and boats. She came to an agreement with a man she liked better than the rest, and went to look at his boat, that lay among a crowd of others near the landing. The boat had a small movable mast with a sail, and also oars for calm weather. Two healthy-looking bourlák rowers sat in the boat, sunning themselves. The merry, kindly boatman advised her not to leave her tarantass behind, but to take off the wheels and place it in the boat. “There will be just enough room, and it will be more comfortable for you to sit in it. If God gives us good weather, we’ll run down to Astrakhán in five days or so.”
Having come to terms with the boatman, Albína bade him come to Lóginof’s inn, in the Pokróvsky suburb, to see the tarantass and to receive hand-money. Everything was succeeding beyond her expectations. In a rapturously happy mood she crossed the Vólga, paid her driver, and went towards the innyard.