thout
committing bigamy, in view of the laws of Russia on that point, I am at
a loss to understand.

"All my husband's disciples," said the countess, "are small, blond,
sickly, and homely; all as like one to another as a pair of old boots.
You have seen them. X. Z.--you know him--had a very pretty talent
for verses; but he has ruined it and his mind, and made himself quite an
idiot, by following my husband's teachings."

The count provided a complement to these remarks in a conversation on
Russian writers. He said of a certain author; "That man has never been
duly appreciated, has never received the recognition which his genius
deserves. Yet you know how superbly he writes,--or rather, did write.
He has spoiled himself now by imitating me. It is a pity."

This ingenuous comment is rescued from any tinge of conceit or egotism
by its absolute simplicity and truth. The imitation referred to is of
the moral "Tales" for popular reading of the lower classes, which my
cabman had studied. The pity of it is, when so many of the contemporary
writers of Russia owe their inspiration, their very existence, to
Turgeneff and Tolstoy having preceded them, that a man who possesses
personal talent and a delightful individual style should sacrifice them.
In his case it is unnecessary. Count Tolstoy's recognition of this fact
is characteristic.

The countess's description of the "adepts" was as clever as the rest of
her remarks, and absolutely accurate. One of them was at the house for a
day or two. (I had seen them elsewhere as well.) He had evidently got
himself a new blouse for the visit. It was of coarse blue and white
cloth, checked, and so stiff with newness that, having a long slit and
only one button, at the neck, I could see the whole of his hairy breast
every time I looked at him from the left side. I sympathized with Prince
K., who being next him at table turned his back on him and ignored him
conversationally; which embarrassed the young man extremely. Apropos of
his shirt, I never saw any one but the count himself wear a shirt that a
real peasant would have worn; and I do not believe that even he had one
of the characteristic red cotton garments which are the peasant's pride.

I found this adept interesting when he sat opposite me, and he incited
the count to vivacity. He contributed a very good anecdote illustrative
of the count's followers.

A man in one of the southern governments--which one is immaterial here
--sent