ll
tell him how badly Dmitri treated you. What must you think of the
Russians?"

He said all this hurrying to the door to find his father. We sat down
and regarded each other in silence. Jimmie and the consul looked into
their hats with a somewhat sheepish countenance. Bee cleared her throat
with pleasure, and Mrs. Jimmie carefully assumed an attitude of
unstudied grace, smoothing her silk dress over her knee with her gloved
hand, and involuntarily looking at her glove the way we do in America.
Then the door opened and Count Tolstoy came in.

To begin with, he speaks perfect English, and his cordial welcome,
beginning as he entered the door, continued while he traversed the
length of the long room, holding out both hands to me, in one of which
was my letter from the ambassador. He examined our party with as much
curiosity and interest as we studied him. He wore the ordinary peasant's
costume. His blue blouse and white under-garment, which showed around
the neck, had brown stains on it which might be from either coffee or
tobacco. His eyes were set widely apart and were benignant and kind in
expression. His brow was benevolent, and counteracted the lower part of
his face, which in itself would be pugnacious. His nose was short,
broad, and thick. His jaw betrayed the determination of the bulldog. The
combination made an exceedingly interesting study. His coarse clothes
formed a curious contrast to the elegance of his speech and the grace of
his manner. He was simple, unaffected, gentle, and possessed, in common
with all his race, the trait upon which I have remarked before, a keen,
intelligent interest in America and Americans.

While he was still welcoming us and apologising for the behaviour of his
servant, the countess came in, followed by the young countess, their
daughter. The Countess Tolstoy has one of the sweetest faces I ever saw,
and, although she has had thirteen children, she looks as if she were
not over forty-three years old. Her smooth brown hair had not one silver
thread, and its gloss might be envied by many a girl of eighteen. Her
eyes were brown, alert, and fun-loving, her manner quick, and her speech
enthusiastic. Her plain silk gown was well made, and its richness was in
strange contrast to the peasant's costume of her illustrious husband.

The little countess had short red brown hair parted on the side like a
boy's and softly waving about her face, red brown eyes, and a skin so
delicate that litt