e lake of Tchornaia,
naturally of a solitary aspect, becomes all at once full of life and
animation, and presents an enchanting prospect.

Wassili had got several boats ready, which were filled with musicians,
who attracted general attention, and were soon followed by almost all
the skiffs in the same way as the gondolas in the Venetian lagoons
follow the musical amateurs who sing during the night. Wassili knew that
Michael would be flattered to hear an account of the success he had
obtained: but Aphanassi had also come to the festival. As soon as he
learned that the musicians of Wassili were followed by the crowd, and
that his rival's name was in every one's mouth, he collected twenty of
his finest horses, covered them with rich stuffs, and, as soon as the
sports on the lake were over, began, by the sound of Tartar music, a
series of races on the shore, which was a novel sight in the summer
season, and was generally admired. His triumph was complete, and at
Tchornaia nothing was talked of for several days but the races on the
shore of the lake, and the Baskir's influence with Michael increased
considerably.

The grief of Daria made her father suspect that she met Wassili out of
the house, and he confined her at home. I saw none but the young man,
whose communications were far from being so pleasing to me as those of
Daria. Towards the end of July he informed me that Aphanassi had made
another attempt to get her from her father; but that the old man was so
overcome with her despair that he had only agreed that the marriage
should take place the ensuing summer, delaying the matter under the
pretext of getting her portion ready, but, in truth, to give her time to
make up her mind to follow the Baskir.

About this period Wassili was sent by M. Demidoff's agent, at the head
of a body of workmen, to the centre of the Ural Mountains to cut down
trees and burn them into charcoal. He was not to return till the middle
of September. During his absence I saw Daria almost daily; she had lost
the brilliancy of her look, but it seemed to me that her beauty was
increased, her countenance had assumed such an expression of melancholy.
I had gradually obtained the goodwill of Michael, and dispelled, as far
as lay in my power, the sorrows of his daughter. I was a foreigner, a
prisoner, little to be feared, and pretty well off in regard to money,
so that Michael felt no alarm at seeing me, and neglected no opportunity
of showing me his