tic knowledge. In my journey I felt
as if wandering through ancient Scythia. All are related to me,
or are old neighbors of my parents; they greeted me with open
arms. Kisses with saliva, and chops cooked in buckwheat-grits!
Their rooms are filled with progeny, who look as though they
might grow up without trousers. The parents we may almost call,
now, the shirtless. From this cause comes a genuine fury of
turning all things to money. My proposition brought to their eyes
tears of gratitude. They saw in me a saviour. Had I wished, I
might have won the glory of a patriot bringing salvation to his
countrymen. But glory is a painted pot. I am not a man to be
covered with labels. I buy cheap to sell dear, that is my game.
And, though I told them this, they kissed me. I filled their
mouths, which were suffering from that hunger which goes before
harvest. They opened old cupboards before me, also storehouses;
one man even opened a chapel in which I found church-cloths of
incomparable antiquity. I suspect that one of these is of Flemish
make, and reaches back to Robert the Pious, just such a one did I
see in the museum at Cluny. Finally, a number of images; some
girdles and brocades; some old weapons, which would befit John of
Dresden very well; this is my booty. Here we have discovered one
Overbeck and one Steinle; but Maryan, during my absence, found,
somewhere, Saxon porcelain, of incredible age, in perfect
preservation. But this is only the beginning. There will be a
whole harvest of these things, a whole harvest!"

"A golden fleece!" whispered Kranitski.

He grew more and more gloomy, and felt in his right side a pain
which was well-nigh unendurable. The tone in which the baron gave
account of his journey in regions about his birthplace, roused
almost instinctive disgust in Kranitski. He looked at Maryan. Was
he the same also? After a while he asked:

"Has the American project crystallized thoroughly? Is it settled?
Are you going to America surely?"

"It has crystallized this far," answered Maryan, "that I start no
later than to-morrow. Emil will remain here some weeks yet. I, to
become acquainted with the people and the country, leave here
to-morrow."

Kranitski straightened himself and sat there dumb for a time,
with fixed look, then he repeated:

"To-morrow?"

"Absolutely," confirmed Maryan; and, when the baron sat down
after long walking, he rose, and began in turn to walk through
the drawing-room, declarin