In deepest incognito, first by express train, then along back roads, Pyotr Pavlovich Posudin was hastening toward the little town of N, to which he had been summoned by an anonymous letter.
In deepest incognito, first by express train, then along back roads, Pyotr Pavlovich Posudin was hastening toward the little town of N, to which he had been summoned by an anonymous letter.
[Enter the DRIVER, a peasant, who climbs onto the cart, so that he is sitting with his back to us, and the cart begins to trundle slowly away from us.]
TRAVELER. But at least he’s good at his job, you say?
DRIVER. Oh, he’s a blessing from heaven, I’ll grant him that.
TRAVELER. Very cunning—you were saying.
DRIVER. Oh, he creeps around all right.