r to bring it about, and had parted with those we loved, with
places that were dear to us in spite of what we passed through in them,
never again to see them, as we were convinced--all for the same dear
end. With strong hopes and high spirits that hid the sad parting, we had
started on our long journey. And now we were checked so unexpectedly
but surely, the blow coming from where we little expected it, being, as
we believed, safe in that quarter. And that is why the simple words had
such a frightful meaning to us. We had received a wound we knew not how
to heal.

When mother had recovered enough to speak she began to argue with the
gendarme, telling him our story and begging him to be kind. The children
were frightened by what they understood, and all but cried. I was only
wondering what would happen, and wishing I could pour out my grief in
tears, as the others did; but when I feel deeply I seldom show it in
that way, and always wish I could.

Mother's supplications, and perhaps the children's indirect ones, had
more effect than I supposed they would. The officer was moved, even if
he had just said that tears would not be accepted instead of money, and
gave us such kind advice that I began to be sorry I had thought him
cruel, for it was easy to see that he was only doing his duty and had no
part in our trouble that he could be blamed for, now that I had more
kindly thoughts of him.

He said that we would now be taken to Keebart, a few versts' distance
from Verzbolovo, where one Herr Schidorsky lived. This man, he said, was
well known for miles around, and we were to tell him our story and ask
him to help us, which he probably would, being very kind.

A ray of hope shone on each of the frightened faces listening so
attentively to this bearer of both evil and happy tidings. I, for one,
was very confident that the good man would help us through our
difficulties, for I was most unwilling to believe that we really
couldn't continue our journey. Which of us was? I'd like to know.

We are in Keebart, at the depot. The least important particular even of
that place, I noticed and remembered. How the porter--he was an ugly,
grinning man--carried in our things and put them away in the southern
corner of the big room, on the floor; how we sat down on a settee near
them, a yellow settee; how the glass roof let in so much light that we
had to shade our eyes because the car had been dark and we had been
crying; how there were o