m our bier--poisonous flowers are growing;
their fragrancy will send pestilence and destruction to our lucky
Allies, and ruin them, and ruin them.... If I only could help it....
If only I could live long enough to witness it."

The man looked crazy to me. He evidently is one of those whose minds
gave way. His eyes were sparkling flames--while his greenish face with
a sluttish beard remained immovable and serious. From away--we both
were talking of our village affairs.

He continued:

"Don't you think I am talking for myself. It is for Russia. I am
finished anyhow. Go ahead! Betray me too. Tell them I am Counsellor
of State, and a landlord, and marshal of nobility. I do not care! I
am finished.... Yet in my better days I had cancer. It was almost a
pleasure then. Don't smile, it's true. Now--I need oysters, and fruit,
and fine Port wine, and medicine,--and I have bread, which I cannot
digest, and they kick me out of every hospital.... I'm sure the cancer
is nearing my heart. If I die,--I won't see my remuneration: the
downfall of our traitors. Friend,--what can I do to hasten it? How can
I avenge Russia?..."

"It is a hard question to answer. I think you exaggerate a little.
I am myself after a settlement, but I do not go so far. My goal is
smaller. I would like to find a man in Petrograd, so that I could make
the rest of the world understand what he really is. He is a criminal
cretin. Yes, _it is_ this man, exactly. But not at this time. Look
around: The Spring is here. Don't you think the air is pacifying? The
air calls to a perfect selfishness. So, if I had seen the man right
here, I would have shot him of course, but I hate to think of getting
into trouble now."

"Air! Spring! Are you in love, young man?"

Then he grew sad and silent for a while. "No, I can't see any pleasure
in Spring." He became sunk in his thoughts, and looked away.

I love Winter just because it dies every year, and gives place to a
new life! And again the thin birches become green and chastely white.
And I know _my birch_ is somewhere--looking for me.

Tobolsk! Pretty town--I must admit. The high bank with green slopes
is covered with churches, white buildings and gleaming gold crosses.
Something tranquil about Tobolsk! Blue, red and green roofs look shy
from their cozy nests of trees. It must be very exciting to live here
when all is normal. Good God! I see from the deck the fine foggish
veil of dust and gossips hanging over the town.