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150
SÖNYA KOVALÉVSKY
I continually felt an unwonted burden on my heart,
and went about more sadly and meekly than usual.
But the homeward journey erased from my soul the
last traces of the tempest through which I had
recently passed.
We took our departure in April. In Petersburg
the weather was still cold and disagreeable; but in
Vitebsk real spring greeted us, having entered quite
unexpectedly, in a space of two days, into all its
rights. All the brooks and streamlets had
overflowed their banks and flooded the adjacent land,
forming perfect seas. The earth had thawed; the
mud was indescribable.
The traveling on the highway was still tolerably
good, but when we came to our district road we were
forced to leave our traveling carriage at the
post-house and hire two wretched tarantåsses. Mama and
the coachman groaned and worried — how were we
ever to get home ? Mama’s chief fear was that father
would scold her for having stayed so long in
Petersburg. However, in spite of all the groaning and
sighing, we had a capital journey.
I remember how we passed through the pine forest
låte at night. Neither I nor my sister was asleep.
We sat in silence, reviewing all the various
impressions of the past three months, and eagerly inhaling
the spicy odor of spring, with which the air was
saturated. Both our hearts were aching with a sort of
oppressive expectation.
Little by little complete darkness descended. We
were proceeding at a foot-pace, on account of the bad
road. The postilion seemed to be asleep on his box,
and was not shouting at his horses; nothing was to
be heard but the splashing of the horses’ hoofs in the
mud, and the faint, intermittent jingling of the bells.
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