ll never be peace in the
world until the talkers are hoarse."

"How did you get here?" asked Paul, who was always businesslike.

"I brought a pack on my back and sold cotton. I made myself known to the
starosta, and he communicated with good Karl here."

"Did you learn any thing in the village?" asked Paul.

"No; they suspected me. They would not talk. But I understand them,
Pavlo, these poor simple fools. A pebble in the stream would turn the
current of their convictions. Tell them who is the Moscow doctor. It is
your only chance."

Steinmetz grunted acquiescence and walked wearily to the window. This
was only an old and futile argument of his own.

"And make it impossible for me to live another day among them," said
Paul. "Do you think St. Petersburg would countenance a prince who works
among his moujiks?"

Stepan Lanovitch's pale blue eyes looked troubled. Steinmetz shrugged
his shoulders.

"They have brought it on themselves," he said.

"As much as a lamb brings the knife upon itself by growing up," replied
Paul.

Lanovitch shook his white head with a tolerant little smile. He loved
these poor helpless peasants with a love as large as and a thousand
times less practical than Paul's.

In the meantime Paul was thinking in his clear, direct way. It was this
man's habit in life and in thought to walk straight past the side
issues.

"It is like you, Stepan," he said at length, "to come to us at this
time. We feel it, and we recognize the generosity of it, for Steinmetz
and I know the danger you are running in coming back to this country.
But we cannot let you do it--No, do not protest. It is quite out of the
question. We might quell the revolt; no doubt we should--the two of us
together. But what would happen afterward? You would be sent back to
Siberia, and I should probably follow you for harboring an escaped
convict."

The face of the impulsive philanthropist dropped pathetically. He had
come to his friend's assistance on the spur of the moment. He was
destined, as some men are, to plunge about the world seeking to do good.
And it has been decreed that good must be done by stealth and after
deliberation only. He who does good on the spur of the moment usually
sows a seed of dissension in the trench of time.

"Also," went on Paul, with that deliberate grasp of the situation which
never failed to astonish the ready-witted Steinmetz; "also, you have
other calls upon your energy. You have other work to