Trying not to offend the other sledge drivers, and promising to drive with them too, Levin took one and told him to drive to the Shtcherbatskys'.

The sledge-driver was splendid in a white shirt-collar sticking out over his overcoat and into his strong, full-blooded red neck.

The sledge was high and comfortable, and altogether such a one as Levin never drove in after, and the horse was a good one, and tried to gallop but didn't seem to move.