vivacious, while Madame Vera looked on him with more and more favour. They never spoke of Kazik; and once when I tried to introduce the subject, they turned immediately to another topic. I realized with poignant force the ruthless and heartless law of animal and human nature. When Kazik was strong, full of enthusiasm for life, and dangerous, he was loved or hated: when the merciless bullet had robbed his body of its life-blood and strength, he was put out of the heart and of the thoughts as a spoiled and broken thing, of no use to anybody.
"Poor Kazik," I often thought, "where are your proud, bold plans and dreams? I wonder, if before your death, cold despair did not possess your stubborn soul?"
I was really rather glad when I heard of the death of this man, crippled and beyond hope of recovery. Death ended all his trials, his burdened life and his despair, and possibly also the persisting longing for her, who so quickly and easily banished him from her memory.
In the course of a few weeks Samsonoff resigned and returned to Harbin with his wife, who was tired of the jungle, where my ovens struggled with the virgin forest and devoured the bodies of the wood giants just as an extraneous accident devoured the life of Kazik. The human heart can be hard, indifferent and callous; and this is perhaps one unconsciously influencing reason why I do not like big human masses. I found new assistants and our automaton continued to devour.
