dered
as he thought of his dainty lady being subjected to the vicissitudes
of a long trip on those primitive Russian railways. For two days and a
night, in a heaving, swaying train, in a carriage full of reeking
people smoking rancid tobacco, he was forced to curb his eagerness. As
the time of his arrival drew nearer Paul found it all the more
difficult to endure the delay.

It seemed as if the end would never come. The country was almost all
forest now and more bleak and mournful than any Paul had ever seen.
The innumerable willow trees, with their branches drooping to earth as
if they, of all living things, denied the joys of spring, exerted on
him a strangely depressing influence.

But finally, to Paul's relief, the country became more open, and at
last, as the train rolled along the edge of a clear upland, Paul saw
the sheen of the glorious Dnieper, a silver thread beyond which rose a
low range of brown hills covered with woods. And soon he made out the
spires and domes of Kieff.

A little while longer--and then with a long-drawn sigh of satisfaction
he felt the firm earth under foot once more. Kieff at last! Paul could
scarcely believe it.

Into one of the open vans that meet the weary traveller Paul climbed,
and rode across the hills to the fashionable quarter of the town. The
Grand Hotel, he found, was very comfortable, and he retired that night
in a calmer frame of mind than he had known since he left Paris.

For he felt that he was on the threshold.

From Kieff Paul proceeded the next morning, accompanied by his
faithful Baxter, who held in true British contempt the "houtlandish
Russians," and grumbled far more than he was wont as he stowed into
the _droskie_ such necessities as a week's absence required. But
Paul's eagerness proved infectious, and before the sun had arisen they
were far on their way.

It seemed a bit unconventional to Paul's English mind to appear at a
lady's house without an invitation--even warning of his coming. But
there was nothing for it--it was the only course that offered. Those
living in Russian country-houses, he knew, were used to entertaining
such travellers as came their way unbidden. In sparsely settled
districts, where there were not even wretched inns for shelter, it
was a custom that had come about quite naturally.

Paul had never been in that part of Russia before, and it was with
more than passing interest that he observed the scenes around him. At
first he could