There's the corner at the crossroads, where the cabman, Zakhar, has his stand, and there's Zakhar himself and still the same horse!
"You go ahead, Zakhar!" shouted Nicholas to his father's coachman, wishing for a chance to race past him.
Zakhar held back his horses and turned his face, which was already covered with hoarfrost to his eyebrows.
Zakhar, while still keeping his arms extended, raised one hand with the reins.
"Zakhar is shouting that I should turn to the left, but why to the left?" thought Nicholas.