t along; at the same time she was so absorbed in her thoughts
that she stumbled. She looked around; there before her spread a white
plain with the chimneys of the poverty-stricken little village in the
background. Behind her rose the dark stiff wall of the wood. The main
road ran close up to it and then, as though in sudden alarm, turned
sharply to one side.

Anjuta felt that for nothing in the world would she go back alone. The
wood from which she had happily emerged inspired her afterwards with
such fear, that she began to run, and sped over the snowy plain like an
arrow. A strange sight brought her to a standstill. Four riders with
long lances in their hands and guns slung across their backs rode by the
side of a sledge, in which sat a stout man. He looked very grand, with
his high turned-up fur collar and a cap with a red band round it. She
had only once seen such a fine gentleman before, when she was begging
with her mother in the town. The joyful consciousness of having the wood
happily behind her so braced her up, that she felt no embarrassment
before the stranger.

"Listen, child!" the stout gentleman said to her. "Where have you come
from?"

"From the wood, Uncle."

"How is that possible? Do people live there?"

"Only Grandfather and I."

"Do you belong to the village?"

"No. Grandfather has come from far away, and he found me in the wood,
when my mother had died."

"Wait, wait," exclaimed the man in the sledge, who seemed struck with a
new idea. "They said there," he pointed to the village, "that he had not
been seen in this neighbourhood. Of course, you don't know your
grandfather's name; how should you?"

"Yes, I know it quite well," she laughed. "It is Ivan."

"Ah, but he did not tell you what other name he had. That ought to have
occurred to him."

"Yes, but he did," said the child merrily. "And I remember it well."

"You are joking."

"He is called Ivan the Runaway. That's it. And my name is Anjuta."

"That's just the man we want," laughed the official with great
satisfaction. "Look out, you rascals"--he made a threatening gesture
towards the village--"you shelter escaped convicts. Where is your
grandfather?"

"He is in bed."

"What? Out there in the wood?"

"Yes; he is ill since the bear attacked him. He can hardly crawl round
our hut."

"Ah! then he can't run away."

"Why should he run away?" laughed Anjuta. "He is waiting for me. I am
going to the village," she added with an