y gift to her that I
insisted on making the girl happy with five cents a pound. After that I
was not surprised to find Russian merchants catering to the taste of
their customers by refusing to adopt the one-price system.

It was vulgar to go to market, of course. Even the great mastiff who
acted as yard dog at the bazaar made me aware of that fact. He always
greeted me politely, like a host, when he met me in the court at market
hours. But nothing could induce him even to look at me when he met me
outside. I tried to explain to him that my motives were scientific, not
economical, and I introduced Katiusha to him as the family bargainer and
scapegoat for his scorn. He declined to relent. After that I understood
that there was nothing for it but to shoulder the responsibility myself,
and I never attempted to palliate my unpardonable conduct in the eyes of
the servants of my friends whom I occasionally encountered there.

The market was held in the inner courtyard of the _Gostinny Dvor_, near
the chapel, which always occupies a conspicuous position in such places.
While the shops under the arcade, facing on the street, sold everything,
from "gallantry wares" (dry goods and small wares) to nails, the inner
booths were all devoted to edibles. On the rubble pavement of the court
squatted peasants from the villages for many versts round about, both
Russian and Finnish, hedged in by their wares, vegetables, flowers,
fruit, and live poultry. The Russians exhibited no beautiful costumes;
their proximity to the capital had done away with all that. At first I
was inexperienced, and went unprovided with receptacles for my
marketing. The market women looked up in surprise.

"What, have you no kerchief?" they asked, as though I were a peasant or
petty merchant's wife, and could remove the typical piece of gayly
colored cloth from my head or neck. When I objected to transporting eggs
and berries in my only resource, my handkerchief, they reluctantly
produced scraps of dirty newspaper, or of ledgers scrawled over with
queer accounts. I soon grew wise, and hoarded up the splint strawberry
baskets provided by the male venders, which are put to multifarious uses
in Russia.

After being asked for a kerchief in the markets, and a sheet when I went
to get my fur cloak from its summer storage at a fashionable city shop,
and after making divers notes on journeys, I was obliged to conclude
that the ancient merchant fashion in Russia had been