had visited the
country in the days when, as yet, the General was in command but of a
company. Yes, everyone tends hither. And another reason is the fact
that the country is an easy one to live in, a country which enjoys much
sunshine, and produces much food, and has a winter less long and severe
than our own winter, and therefore presents pleasanter conditions of
life."

"And what of the country's people?"

"What of the country's people? Oh, so long as you keep yourself to
yourself they will not interfere with you."

"And why will they not?"

Kalinin paused, stared at me, smiled condescendingly, and, finally,
said:

"What a dullard you are to ask about such simple things! Were you never
given any sort of an education? Surely by this time you ought to be
able to understand something?"

Then, with a change of subject, and subduing his tone to one of
snuffling supplication, he added in the sing-song chant of a person
reciting a prayer:

"'Oh Lord, suffer me not to become bound unto the clergy the
priesthood, the diaconate, the tchinovstvo, [The official class] or the
intelligentsia!' This was a petition which my mother used often to
repeat."

The raindrops now were falling more gently, and in finer lines and more
transparent network, so that one could once more descry the great
trunks of the blackened oaks, with the green and gold of their leaves.
Also, our own hollow had grown less dark, and there could be discerned
its smoky, satin-bright walls. From those walls Kalinin picked a bit of
charcoal with finger and thumb, saying:

"It was shepherds that fired the place. See where they dragged in hay
and dead leaves! A shepherd's fife hereabouts must be a truly glorious
one!"

Lastly, clasping his head as though he were about to fall asleep, he
sank his chin between his knees, and relapsed into silence.

Presently a brilliant, sinuous little rivulet which had long been
laving the bare roots of our tree brought floating past us a red and
fawn leaf.

"How pretty," I thought, "that leaf will look from a distance when
reposing on the surface of the sea! For, like the sun when he is in
solitary possession of the heavens, that leaf will stand out against
the blue, silky expanse like a lonely red star."

After awhile my companion began, catlike, to purr to himself a song.
Its melody, the melody of "the moon withdrew behind a cloud," was
familiar enough, but not so the words, which ran:

Oh Valentina, wondrous