Thepipewentout。Thepostmastercameoutofthepost-officejustashewas，inhiswaistcoatandslippers；shrinkingfromthenightdampnessandclearinghisthroat，hewalkedbesidethecartandsaid:
“Well，Godspeed！Givemylovetoyourmother，Mihailo。Givemylovetothemall。Andyou，Ignatyev，mindyoudon’tforgettogivetheparceltoBystretsov。Off！“
Thedrivertookthereinsinonehand，blewhisnose，and，arrangingtheseatunderhimself，clickedtothehorses。
“Givethemmylove，“thepostmasterrepeated。
Thebigbellclangedsomethingtothelittlebells，thelittlebellsgaveitafriendlyanswer。Thecartsqueaked，moved。Thebigbelllamented，thelittlebellslaughed。Standingupinhisseatthedriverlashedtherestlesstracehorsetwice，andthecartrumbledwithahollowsoundalongthedustyroad。Thelittletownwasasleep。Housesandtreesstoodblackoneachsideofthebroadstreet，andnotalightwastobeseen。Narrowcloudsstretchedhereandthereoverthestar-spangledsky，andwherethedawnwouldsoonbecomingtherewasanarrowcrescentmoon；
butneitherthestars，ofwhichthereweremany，northehalf-moon，whichlookedwhite，lightedupthenightair。Itwascoldanddamp，andtherewasasmellofautumn。
Thestudent，whothoughtthatpolitenessrequiredhimtotalkaffablytoamanwhohadnotrefusedtolethimaccompanyhim，began:
“Insummeritwouldbelightatthistime，butnowthereisnotevenasignofthedawn。Summerisover！“
Thestudentlookedattheskyandwenton:
“Evenfromtheskyonecanseethatitisautumn。Looktotheright。Doyouseethreestarssidebysideinastraightline？
ThatistheconstellationofOrion，which，inourhemisphere，onlybecomesvisibleinSeptember。“
Thepostman，thrustinghishandsintohissleevesandretreatinguptohisearsintohiscoatcollar，didnotstiranddidnotglanceatthesky。ApparentlytheconstellationofOriondidnotinteresthim。Hewasaccustomedtoseethestars，andprobablyhehadlonggrownwearyofthem。Thestudentpausedforawhileandthensaid:
“It’scold！It’stimeforthedawntobegin。Doyouknowwhattimethesunrises？“
“What？“
“Whattimedoesthesunrisenow？“
“Betweenfiveandsix，“saidthedriver。
Themailcartdroveoutofthetown。Nownothingcouldbeseenoneithersideoftheroadbutthefencesofkitchengardensandhereandthereasolitarywillow-tree；everythinginfrontofthemwasshroudedindarkness。Hereintheopencountrythehalf-moonlookedbiggerandthestarsshonemorebrightly。Thencameascentofdampness；thepostmanshrankfurtherintohiscollar，thestudentfeltanunpleasantchillfirstcreepingabouthisfeet，thenoverthemailbags，overhishandsandhisface。
Thehorsesmovedmoreslowly；thebellwasmuteasthoughitwerefrozen。Therewasthesoundofthesplashofwater，andstarsreflectedinthewaterdancedunderthehorses’feetandroundthewheels。
Buttenminuteslateritbecamesodarkthatneitherthestarsnorthemooncouldbeseen。Themailcarthadenteredtheforest。
Pricklypinebrancheswerecontinuallyhittingthestudentonhiscapandaspider’swebsettledonhisface。Wheelsandhoofsknockedagainsthugeroots，andthemailcartswayedfromsidetosideasthoughitweredrunk。
“Keeptotheroad，“saidthepostmanangrily。“Whydoyourunuptheedge？Myfaceisscratchedalloverbythetwigs！Keepmoretotheright！“
Butatthatpointtherewasnearlyanaccident。Thecartsuddenlyboundedasthoughinthethroesofaconvulsion，begantrembling，and，withacreak，lurchedheavilyfirsttotherightandthentotheleft，andatafearfulpacedashedalongtheforesttrack。
Thehorseshadtakenfrightatsomethingandbolted。
“Wo！wo！“thedrivercriedinalarm。“Woyoudevils！
Thestudent，violentlyshaken，bentforwardandtriedtofindsomethingtocatchholdofsoastokeephisbalanceandsavehimselffrombeingthrownout，buttheleathermailbagswereslippery，andthedriver，whosebeltthestudenttriedtocatchat，washimselftossedupanddownandseemedeverymomentonthepointofflyingout。Throughtherattleofthewheelsandthecreakingofthecarttheyheardtheswordfallwithaclankontheground，thenalittlelatersomethingfellwithtwoheavythudsbehindthemailcart。
“Wo！“thedrivercriedinapiercingvoice，bendingbackwards。
“Stop！“
Thestudentfellonhisfaceandbruisedhisforeheadagainstthedriver’sseat，butwasatoncetossedbackagainandknockedhisspineviolentlyagainstthebackofthecart。
“Iamfalling！“wasthethoughtthatflashedthroughhismind，butatthatinstantthehorsesdashedoutoftheforestintotheopen，turnedsharplytotheright，andrumblingoverabridgeoflogs，suddenlystoppeddead，andthesuddennessofthishaltflungthestudentforwardagain。
Thedriverandthestudentwerebothbreathless。Thepostmanwasnotinthecart。Hehadbeenthrownout，togetherwithhissword，thestudent’sportmanteau，andoneofthemailbags。
“Stop，yourascal！Sto-op！“theyheardhimshoutfromtheforest。
“Youdamnedblackguard！“heshouted，runninguptothecart，andtherewasanoteofpainandfuryinhistearfulvoice。“Youanathema，plaguetakeyou！“heroared，dashinguptothedriverandshakinghisfistathim。
“Whatato-do！Lordhavemercyonus！“mutteredthedriverinaconscience-strickenvoice，settingrightsomethingintheharnessatthehorses’heads。“It’sallthatdevilofatracehorse。
Cursedfilly；itisonlyaweeksinceshehasruninharness。Shegoesallright，butassoonaswegodownhillthereistrouble！
Shewantsatouchortwoonthenose，thenshewouldn’tplayaboutlikethisStea-eady！Damn！“
Whilethedriverwassettingthehorsestorightsandlookingfortheportmanteau，themailbag，andtheswordontheroad，thepostmaninaplaintivevoiceshrillwithangerejaculatedoaths。
Afterreplacingtheluggagethedriverfornoreasonwhateverledthehorsesforahundredpaces，grumbledattherestlesstracehorse，andjumpeduponthebox。
Whenhisfrightwasoverthestudentfeltamusedandgood-humoured。Itwasthefirsttimeinhislifethathehaddrivenbynightinamailcart，andtheshakinghehadjustbeenthrough，thepostman’shavingbeenthrownout，andthepaininhisownbackstruckhimasinterestingadventures。Helightedacigaretteandsaidwithalaugh:
“Whyyouknow，youmightbreakyournecklikethat！Iverynearlyflewout，andIdidn’tevennoticeyouhadbeenthrownout。Icanfancywhatitislikedrivinginautumn！“
Thepostmandidnotspeak。
“Haveyoubeengoingwiththepostforlong？“thestudentasked。
“Elevenyears。“
“Oho；everyday？“
“Yes，everyday。Itakethispostanddrivebackagainatonce。
Why？“
Makingthejourneyeveryday，hemusthavehadagoodmanyinterestingadventuresinelevenyears。Onbrightsummerandgloomyautumnnights，orinwinterwhenaferocioussnowstormwhirledhowlingroundthemailcart，itmusthavebeenhardtoavoidfeelingfrightenedanduncanny。Nodoubtmorethanoncethehorseshadbolted，themailcarthadstuckinthemud，theyhadbeenattackedbyhighwaymen，orhadlosttheirwayintheblizzard。
“Icanfancywhatadventuresyoumusthavehadinelevenyears！“
saidthestudent。“Iexpectitmustbeterribledriving？“
Hesaidthisandexpectedthatthepostmanwouldtellhimsomething，butthelatterpreservedasullensilenceandretreatedintohiscollar。Meanwhileitbegantogetlight。Theskychangedcolourimperceptibly；itstillseemeddark，butbynowthehorsesandthedriverandtheroadcouldbeseen。Thecrescentmoonlookedbiggerandbigger，andthecloudthatstretchedbelowit，shapedlikeacannoninagun-carriage，showedafaintyellowonitsloweredge。Soonthepostman’sfacewasvisible。Itwaswetwithdew，greyandrigidasthefaceofacorpse。Anexpressionofdull，sullenangerwassetuponit，asthoughthepostmanwerestillinpainandstillangrywiththedriver。
“ThankGoditisdaylight！“saidthestudent，lookingathischilledandangryface。“Iamquitefrozen。ThenightsarecoldinSeptember，butassoonasthesunrisesitisn’tcold。Shallwesoonreachthestation？“
Thepostmanfrownedandmadeawryface。
“Howfondyouareoftalking，uponmyword！“hesaid。“Can’tyoukeepquietwhenyouaretravelling？“
