He knew that in the event of such emergencies it would be singularly easy for four people to die of cold within a few miles of help.

But he had faced such possibilities a hundred times before in this vast country, where the standard price of a human life is no great sum.

He was not, therefore, dismayed, but rather took delight in battling with the elements, as all strong men should, and most of them, thank Heaven, do.
Moreover he battled successfully, and before the moon was well up drew rein outside the village of Osterno, to accede at last to the oft-repeated prayer of the driver that he might return to his task.
"It is not meet," the man had gruffly said, whenever a short halt was made to change horses, "that a great prince should drive a yemschik." "It is meet," answered Paul simply, "for one man to help another." Then this man of deeds and not of words clambered into the sleigh and drew up the windows, hiding his head as he drove through his own village, where every man was dependent for life and being on his charity.
They were silent, for the ladies were tired and cold.
"We shall soon be there," said Paul reassuringly.

But he did not lower the windows and look out, as any man might have wished to do on returning to the place of his birth.
Maggie sat back, wrapped in her furs.

She was meditating over the events of the day, and more particularly over a certain skill, a quickness of touch, a deft handling of stricken men which she had noted far out on the snowy steppe a few hours earlier.