the church: the shabbily dressed,
middle-aged man who, hidden in the shadow of a chapel-pillar, stood
watching his daughter, her escort, and the throng of familiar people who
had once received him, the outcast, as one of themselves.--Even
Gregoriev never suspected this last touch to the finished story. And,
had he known it, it could in no way have lightened the weight that lay
on his heart when, upon his return to his lonely rooms, he called Piotr
to him, in the twilight, and spoke to the man who was afraid to show the
joy caused by his master's wearily-spoken command.

"In two days, Piotr, we shall leave for Russia.--Make things ready; and
come to me for the necessary money.--Great God! How hideous the world
can be!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE HERMIT

The issue of the Moscow _Journal_ for March 26, 1887, announced the
return of Prince Ivan Gregoriev to Russia after a thirty-month absence
abroad; adding that he was in Moscow for a few days only, before
proceeding to his country-place of Maidonovo, near Klin. As a matter of
fact, Ivan, after a railway journey of sixty hours, arrived in Moscow on
the evening of one day, and remained at the Slaviansky Bazaar until the
afternoon of the next. During this brief period, he was besieged by
visitors of every description, from the barest acquaintances, to men
like Balakirev and Ostrovsky; and, to the general chagrin, all were
alike refused. Ivan was in his blackest mood. When, three hours before
the departure of the Klin train, Piotr, taking his life in his hands,
did admit Kashkine, it was half an hour before that rarest of
diplomatists could bring the gleam of one faint smile across his old
friend's face. In his memoirs the admirable Constantine has left a
picture of Gregoriev as he was at this period--in his forty-eighth year:

"A figure lean, not very tall, giving the dual impression of wiry
fortitude, and a delicacy that was rather _spiritual_ than physical,
Gregoriev's body formed a marked contrast to his face--at sight of
which, on the day of his return, I confess to having been shocked, so
changed had it become since my last view of it. From black, with a
slight silvering only at the temples, his hair and beard were now almost
pure white. The lines of care in his face had deepened incredibly. The
skin had something of that parchment look that I had supposed to be the
special mark of the recluse; but Ivan told me he had been a good deal
out-of-doors in the last mont