Tchichikoff continued for some considerable time to remain seated in his uncomfortable chair, tormented by unpleasant recollections, cursing heartily, Nosdrieff, his ancestors and descendants, whilst the tallow-candle before him was melting rapidly down, because the wick was long since covered with a large black cap, and the light threatened every moment to expire altogether; a dark and gloomy night stared at him through the window, and was preparing to give precedence to the break of day, in the distance the hoarse crowing of a few early cocks became also audible, and in the yet soundly somnolent town, many a poor and homeless sheep-skin-wearer, might have been seen wandering about hopelessly and heaving sighs of despair, which unfortunately for old Russia are threatening to become more and more innumerable.
At this particular time, too, there happened also something unusual at the other end of the town, and which occurrence threatened to increase the already very unpleasant position of our hero: namely, through the distant and narrow streets of Smolensk a peculiarly shaped and antique-looking carriage was ricketting over the pavement in its approach to the centre of the town; the name and description of this carriage would have bewildered the cleverest coach-builder of England.
It was not like any of the carriages we are now accustomed to see in the streets of large towns; it was neither what we call a britchka nor a tarantas, nor was it anything like a barouche or a cart, but the nearest resemblance it presented, was to an immense hollowed water-melon, placed upon four wheels. The sides of this water-melon, or rather its cheeks, since they were to represent the doors of that carriage, still bore a trace of yellow colour about them, opened and shut very indifferently, because the handles and locks were in a dilapidated condition, and were not fastened with screws or nails, but common string. The water-melon (which reminds us forcibly of the carriage built in five minutes by the clowns at the Haymarket) was filled up with a variety of pillows of all sizes, bags containing bread, cakes and pastry. The stand behind was occupied by a sitting servile creature, in a short grey home-spun cloak, with unshaved beard, intersected here and there by silvery grey; this servile servant was known by the name of young Safran.