ave collected in the country, I tempt and
lead astray, by my senseless luxury, those country people who come hither
because of me, in order in some way to get back what they have been
deprived of in the country.] {99}

CHAPTER XIV.

I reached the same conclusion from a totally different point. On
recalling all my relations with the city poor during that time, I saw
that one of the reasons why I could not help the city poor was, that the
poor were disingenuous and untruthful with me. They all looked upon me,
not as a man, but as means. I could not get near them, and I thought
that perhaps I did not understand how to do it; but without uprightness,
no help was possible. How can one help a man who does not disclose his
whole condition? At first I blamed them for this (it is so natural to
blame some one else); but a remark from an observing man named Siutaeff,
who was visiting me at the time, explained this matter to me, and showed
me where the cause of my want of success lay. I remember that Siutaeff's
remark struck me very forcibly at the time; but I only understood its
full significance later on. It was at the height of my self-delusion. I
was sitting with my sister, and Siutaeff was there also at her house; and
my sister was questioning me about my undertaking. I told her about it,
and, as always happens when you have no faith in your course, I talked to
her with great enthusiasm and warmth, and at great length, of what I had
done, and of what might possibly come of it. I told her every thing,--how
we were going to keep track of pauperism in Moscow, how we were going to
keep an eye on the orphans and old people, how we were going to send away
all country people who had grown poor here, how we were going to smooth
the pathway to reform for the depraved; how, if only the matter could be
managed, there would not be a man left in Moscow, who could not obtain
assistance. My sister sympathized with me, and we discussed it. In the
middle of our conversation, I glanced at Siutaeff. As I was acquainted
with his Christian life, and with the significance which he attached to
charity, I expected his sympathy, and spoke so that he understood this; I
talked to my sister, but directed my remarks more at him. He sat
immovable in his dark tanned sheepskin jacket,--which he wore, like all
peasants, both out of doors and in the house,--and as though he did not
hear us, but were thinking of his own affairs. His small e