n his rival attempting to compete with him. On the
speedy recovery of the first singer, the Count, however, beckoned to him
to begin. He rose and stood forward. At first his voice was weak, but
his notes seemed to rivet the attention of his audience. As he
proceeded, it became more and more animated, firmer, and fuller,
exhibiting a wonderful combination of freshness, sweetness, and power;
so exquisitely plaintive, so overflowing with poignant grief--for it was
of a melancholy character--that tears, sobs, and groans broke from the
breasts of most of his audience. It was truly the triumph of song over
human feelings, and the palm of victory was unanimously awarded to the
last singer.

"I am glad you heard these singers," observed the Count, as his guests
were retiring for the night. "We Russians are celebrated, I believe,
for our musical talents, and I think you have heard a fair specimen of
them this evening."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Preparations for a Hunt--Ride to Cover--Account of an Insurrection of
Peasants--Game breaks Cover--Fred and Harry lose their Way--Chase a
Stag--Desperate Encounter with a She-wolf--Harry's Bravery--Saved by
Saveleff the Molokani--The Count promises to assist Saveleff--Return
to Moscow.

A fine bright morning, which ushered in the day appointed for the hunt,
gave promise of much amusement. Breakfast being over at an early hour,
the Count and his guests mounted the horses, which were led forth in
front of the house by high-booted, long pink-shirted, wide-trousered
peasants, looking as unlike English grooms as a polar bear does to an
opera-dancer. Cousin Giles was not a bad horseman for a sailor, and the
lads were delighted with the steeds provided for them; but Mr Evergreen
had great doubts whether he should risk his neck on the back of an
animal with which he was unacquainted. The Count, however, assured him
that the horse selected for him bore a very good character for
quietness, so at last he persuaded himself to mount. People of all
ranks came from far and near to join the hunt. They were dressed in all
sorts of costumes, partaking much of a military character, and the
steeds which they rode were as varied in character as their masters.
Some were more like chargers and cart-horses than hunters of the English
stamp; the greater number were little Cossack horses not bigger than
ponies, with long tails and shaggy coats.

"Don't laugh, my friend," said the Count to