ss enough, and the big church, with its five
pear-shaped cupolas rising out of the bright green roof and its ugly
belfry in the Renaissance style, was not by any means beautiful in
itself; but when seen from a little distance, especially in the soft
evening twilight, the whole might have been made the subject of a
very pleasing picture. From the point that a landscape-painter would
naturally have chosen, the foreground was formed by a meadow, through
which flowed sluggishly a meandering stream. On a bit of rising ground
to the right, and half concealed by an intervening cluster of old
rich-coloured pines, stood the manor-house--a big, box-shaped,
whitewashed building, with a verandah in front, overlooking a small plot
that might some day become a flower-garden. To the left of this stood
the village, the houses grouping prettily with the big church, and a
little farther in this direction was an avenue of graceful birches. On
the extreme left were fields, bounded by a dark border of fir-trees.
Could the spectator have raised himself a few hundred feet from the
ground, he would have seen that there were fields beyond the village,
and that the whole of this agricultural oasis was imbedded in a forest
stretching in all directions as far as the eye could reach.

The history of the place may be told in a few words. In former times the
estate, including the village and all its inhabitants, had belonged to
a monastery, but when, in 1764, the Church lands were secularised by
Catherine, it became the property of the State. Some years afterwards
the Empress granted it, with the serfs and everything else which it
contained, to an old general who had distinguished himself in the
Turkish wars. From that time it had remained in the K---- family.
Some time between the years 1820 and 1840 the big church and the
mansion-house had been built by the actual possessor's father, who loved
country life, and devoted a large part of his time and energies to
the management of his estate. His son, on the contrary, preferred St.
Petersburg to the country, served in one of the public offices, loved
passionately French plays and other products of urban civilisation,
and left the entire management of the property to a German steward,
popularly known as Karl Karl'itch, whom I shall introduce to the reader
presently.

The village annals contained no important events, except bad harvests,
cattle-plagues, and destructive fires, with which the inhabitants