ckly. Girls and
boys, laughing and crying; for as they went home many of them found
time to fight and make peace, to weep and play. I forgot my troubles in
looking at them. And then, all those three years, I tried to understand
why men should be for ever tormenting themselves. I lived the life of
a child there, and thought I should never leave the little village;
indeed, I was far from thinking that I should ever return to Russia.
But at last I recognized the fact that Schneider could not keep me any
longer. And then something so important happened, that Schneider himself
urged me to depart. I am going to see now if can get good advice
about it. Perhaps my lot in life will be changed; but that is not the
principal thing. The principal thing is the entire change that has
already come over me. I left many things behind me--too many. They have
gone. On the journey I said to myself, 'I am going into the world of
men. I don't know much, perhaps, but a new life has begun for me.' I
made up my mind to be honest, and steadfast in accomplishing my task.
Perhaps I shall meet with troubles and many disappointments, but I have
made up my mind to be polite and sincere to everyone; more cannot be
asked of me. People may consider me a child if they like. I am often
called an idiot, and at one time I certainly was so ill that I was
nearly as bad as an idiot; but I am not an idiot now. How can I possibly
be so when I know myself that I am considered one?

"When I received a letter from those dear little souls, while passing
through Berlin, I only then realized how much I loved them. It was very,
very painful, getting that first little letter. How melancholy they had
been when they saw me off! For a month before, they had been talking of
my departure and sorrowing over it; and at the waterfall, of an evening,
when we parted for the night, they would hug me so tight and kiss me so
warmly, far more so than before. And every now and then they would turn
up one by one when I was alone, just to give me a kiss and a hug, to
show their love for me. The whole flock went with me to the station,
which was about a mile from the village, and every now and then one of
them would stop to throw his arms round me, and all the little girls had
tears in their voices, though they tried hard not to cry. As the train
steamed out of the station, I saw them all standing on the platform
waving to me and crying 'Hurrah!' till they were lost in the distance.

"I