coolness and the quiet of his surroundings. In the distance some fields were turning to gold as the sun, setting behind a familiar birch-grove, tinged to red the mirror-like surface of the lake. From the fields a mist had risen, for the chill of evening was falling, and dusk approaching apace. To his ears, at intervals, came the clatter of peasantry as they returned homewards, and at the entrance gates the servants of the establishment were sitting at ease, while from their vicinity came the sound of echoing voices and laughter, the playing of balalaiki,[1] and the chattering of girls as they pursued the sport of gorielki.[2] Around him, also, his little ones were frisking at times climbing on to his knee and hanging about his neck; while behind the samovar[3] was seated the real ruler of all that his eyes were beholding his divinity, a woman, his wife! . . . And in the dining-room a room at once elegant and simply appointed a cheerful fire was glowing, and Zakhar, now promoted to the dignity of a major-domo, and adorned with whiskers turned wholly grey, was laying a large, round table to a pleasant accompanying tinkle of crystal and silver as he
