ce given to one person, who needed so many other persons to
serve her! And how the nothingness of these was made more emphatic by
the dominance of that! Mavra sat wonder-stricken. The head lady's
maid coming into the room found her still in a state of stupefaction,
stupefied above all at having made these reflections.

"Well, you are lucky!" she said to her, with a pleased look. "Our
countess took a fancy to you at the first glance; you are now on the
list of embroiderers! You may thank God for it. It is not often the
countess takes a fancy like that at first sight."

"Is she, then, unkind?" innocently inquired the girl.

"Unkind! Oh, no; capricious, like all mistresses, but the kindest lady
in the world, and generous! Besides, this is a rich house; nothing is
counted--nothing at all. This is better than your village," continued
Dacka, proud of belonging to such noble masters, and desirous to
impress on the mind of the simple peasant girl the importance and
dignity of the functions she was promoted to.

"It is more beautiful," replied Mavra, bending intently over her work.

"It was lucky they taught you to embroider, else you would have been
sent to the poultry-yard to feed the cocks and hens and look after the
calves. How did you learn?"

"My mother taught me; she was formerly in service; she was a
_dvorovaia_ in the time of the late countess. She married a peasant."

"Ah!" said Dacka, "I thought your manners were not quite those of a
peasant girl; if your mother was in service, that's another thing.
Come, take a cup of coffee with me. Prepare the coffee-pot and make
haste before the others come; I can't ask every one, you understand."

To Mavra there was but little difference between the _isba_ of her
father and the workroom of the seignorial mansion. Here, as there,
her life was spent in assiduous work from sunrise to sunset. There,
her mother, an austere, somber woman, like most village matrons to
whom life had proved no light matter; here, the lady's maid, often
grumbling, but at times kind and even condescending. The chief
difference between the two modes of life consisted in the daily
visits of the countess, who generally said nothing, but passed with a
solemn air through this roomful of silent, awe-stricken women. But one
thing was lacking to Mavra, and this nothing could replace--the
evening hour of rest which she used to spend by the fountain when sent
to draw water for her mother, or on the threshold