out of Moscow.

We gave the letter and our visiting-cards to the consul, and he
explained our wish to see Tolstoy to the footman who answered our ring.
Having evidently received instructions to admit no one, he not only
refused us admittance, but declined to take our cards. The consul
translated his refusal, and seemed vanquished, but I urged him to make
another attempt, and he did so, which was followed by the announcement
that the countess was asleep, and the count was out. This being
translated to me, I announced, in cheerful English which the footman
could not understand, that both of these statements were lies, and for
my part I had no doubt that the footman was a direct descendant of
Beelzebub.

"Tell him that you know better," I said. "Tell him that we know the
count is too ill to leave the house, and that the countess could not
possibly be asleep at this time of day. Tell him if he expects us to
believe him, to make up a better one than that."

"Say something," urged Bee. "Get us inside the house, if no more."

"Tell him how far we have come, and how anxious we are to see the
count," said Mrs. Jimmie.

"Oh, better give it up," said Jimmie, "and come on home."

The consul obligingly made the desired effort, evidently combining all
of our instructions, politely softened by his own judgment. The
footman's face betrayed no yielding, and in order the better to refuse
to take our cards he put his hands behind him.

"You see, it's no use," said the consul. "Hadn't we better give it up?"

"He won't let you in," said Jimmie, "so don't make a fuss."

"I shall make no fuss," I said, quietly. "But I'll get in, and I'll see
Tolstoy, and I'll get all the rest of you in. Give me those cards."

I took two rubles from my purse, and, taking the cards and letter, I
handed them all to the footman, saying in lucid English:

"We are coming in, and you are to take these cards to Count Tolstoy."

At the same time, I pointed a decisive forefinger in the direction in
which I thought the count was concealed. The obsequious menial took our
cards, bowed low, and invited us to enter with true servant's
hospitality.

In all Russian houses, as, doubtless, everybody knows, the first floor
is given up to an _antechambre_, where guests remove their wraps and
goloshes, and behind this room are the kitchen and servants' quarters.
All the living-rooms of the family are generally on the floor above.
Having once entered this _antechambr