old
serf, garbed in a soiled working-dress.

"Madame Dravikine--does she receive to-day?"

"Saints behold us, Lieutenant, she may, for all I know! She and my
little Natusha--who cried without ceasing for three days and three
nights--went away this morning, with all their luggage, to the foreign
land by the sea: to Germany, where it's warm, and where they will stay,
my lady said, till summer comes again, and they can all go to
Tsarskoe.--Saints!--You are sick too, young sir!"

But Ivan, refusing her suggestion of a glass of wine, made a few more
inquiries, found that the old woman had no idea of her mistress's real
destination (to the Russian poor all the world west of Russia is
"Germany"); and at last turned blindly away and began to walk in the
direction of the nearest "tea-house," where he could think, unmolested.

His aunt had, at least, paid him a compliment in this flight. Evidently
she was afraid of him--of his poor power!--And little Natusha had cried
for three days and three nights! At thought of this, all the love and
all the chivalry in him rose.--That she should be abused because of an
act of his!--He ground his heels into the rough, wooden floor of the
little _traktir_, and began to think more rapidly.--Yes, they should
have cause to fear him! Nathalie must be his, since she cared for him as
he for her. It was all very simple. He could find out, without great
difficulty, where they had gone. Then, at once, he would follow them,
and--people had eloped before now!--His father, he knew, would, not be
displeased with the marriage; for he knew Dravikine to be his superior
in rank. At least, there should be money enough, then, always, for his
wife.

"_Wife!_" The word made his pulses throb. There remained only to
discover his destination, and to get leave of absence from his Colonel.
The latter was a mere form, given daily to officers at this season. He
might as well obtain it at once.--So, paying his small score, he rose,
leaving his drink untouched, and started off in the direction of Colonel
Brodsky's dwelling.

It was a strange thing that Ivan, in his confidence of getting away
immediately, forgot that old, unpaid grudge of his superior officer.
Unhappily for him, when he made his request, eagerness was written in
every line of his face. Brodsky listened and looked; paused, smiled
maliciously, and then, with June in his memory, refused the leave as
curtly as possible. Ivan started with amazement. But i