Then someone again said, 'Good-bye,' and a voice cried, 'Ready,' and the coachman touched up the horses.
'Hy, Elisar!' One of the friends called out, and the other coachman and the sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their tongues and pulling at the reins.

Then the stiffened carriage-wheels rolled squeaking over the frozen snow.
'A fine fellow, that Olenin!' said one of the friends.

'But what an idea to go to the Caucasus--as a cadet, too! I wouldn't do it for anything.

...

Are you dining at the club to-morrow ?' 'Yes.' They separated.
The traveller felt warm, his fur coat seemed too hot.