A chaise is rushing across the endless plains, the sight of which is so gratifying for the Russian people. A trio of well-fed horses, whose appearance personifies the golden age of the nobility and the dissolute life of the landowners, runs along the road stretching into the distance. From the britzka we can hear two voices: a strong and commanding one and a thin, submissive one answering him: “You, Pavel Alekseich, stop it.” This city doesn't inspire confidence in me. Everyone there walks around gloomy and dejected. These are not people, these are barbarians. There isn't even a church. The wilderness is unimaginable. A chaise rushes along the endless plains, the sight of which is so gratifying for the Russian people. A trio of well-fed horses, whose appearance personifies the golden age of the nobility and the dissolute life of the landowners, runs along the road stretching into the distance. From the britzka we can hear two voices: a strong and commanding one and a thin, submissive one answering him: “You, Pavel Alekseich, stop it.” This city doesn't inspire confidence in me. Everyone there walks around gloomy and dejected. These are not people, these are barbarians. There isn't even a church. The wilderness is unimaginable.