In Pskov, an old woman in national costume, the flaps of her bonnet pulled down over her cheeks, would now be on the way to church, her sledge gliding over the snow while a drunken coachman lashed at a pony which trotted jerkily, like a clockwork toy.

In Pskov, an old lady in a folk hat that came down over both cheeks must have been on her way to church in a sled behind a drunken coachman whipping a pony trotting across the snow like a mechanical toy.