would be like a queen when she returned to the village, and the family would fall at her feet when she opened her box. were taken to drive with the barina in the luxurious little fur-decked sledge the coachman completely obstructed the view. He wore a big gold-laced, It seemed to Annushka that every- four-cornered hat, and his hair, as fair body in the barin's household was fat and glossy as that of the barina herand sleek and leisurely. The very self, was carefully combed and oiled, porter at the hall-door was as round as and hung in large round curls, nearly a barrel, and his good living oozed out to his shoulders. His beard, as fine as of his shiny skin and the corners of his floss silk fell to his capacious waisttwinkling eyes. band. His gold-braided scarHis face was as soft and pink let uniform was so gorgeous and daz- as that of a tender young damsel, and zling that Annushka, on first beholding in the middle of his enormous back was him, involuntarily crossed herself, fastened a little round clock, so that the thinking that he must be one of the barina could see the time, without dissaints of God stepped out of the holy turbing the soft furs over her bosom by "Ikon." He lived in a kind of cup- drawing out her watch. board under the staircase, which contained a bed, a table and a stove. One day, on the eve of a festival, he took her by the hand as she was entering the house with the "barchuk" and, leading her to the big settee in the hall lifted the seat, and displayed to her astonished eyes a quantity of eatables such as she had never in her life beheld all at once. "That is my larder," he said to her with a smile upon his round red face, "and to-morrow I shall feast." "God sees it," said Annushka to the "mamkas" in the park, "he had got chickens there, and herrings, and pickled mushrooms, and more eggs than you could count in an hour." The coachman was just as sleek and shiny as the porter, and in public life he appeared to be much fatter; because a private coachman in St. Petersburg is swathed around in rolls of cloth beneath his livery, or thickly padded in order to acquire the bulk which is prescribed by fashion. Annushka was not aware of this, and she got quite a shock one day when she beheld the colossus unwind himself in the courtyard with the help of two of the stable-men, and emerge from his wrappings quite an ordinary size. When Annushka and the "barchuk" The sledge and its occupants made a vivid picture against the snow. The horses were as white and silky as summer clouds, and they were covered with a bright green netting to prevent the snow being kicked up into the riders' faces. The barina was all muffled up in soft white furs, with her yellow hair gleaming under her snowy cap, like buttercups against a swan's wing, and her pretty gentle face all rosy pink with frost. Annushka's plump cheeks glowed like a pair of poppies, and the gorgeous ribbons on her scarlet bonnet streamed out behind her like a floating rainbow. The "barchuk" was smothered in fur and hidden from sight on these occasions. Behind the sledge upon a little footboard stood an imposing body-guard, clad in a long Caucasian coat of scarlet, trapped with dull Caucasian silver, a silver-sheathed dagger thrust into his belt, and a high Caucasian cap of astrakan upon his head. How swiftly the little sledge flashed over the snow, and how valiantly the fat coachman urged the horses to their utmost speed, leaning far forward in the approved fashion, his knees apart and a rein in either hand! Everybody turned to look after it as it sped along the quay beside the frozen Neva, a patch of flying color, lost to sight before one could think of a remark to make. Annushka had grown to love the gentle barina. She was very young and tall and fair and slender, and at first Annushka stood in awe of her, because she looked so queenly and was SO richly dressed. "When she comes at night to kiss the 'barchuk'" said Annushka to the "mamkas" in the park, "she shines from her hair, and her breast, and her hands and feet as though God's angels had kissed her." She loved to escape from her busy life into the nursery, and she would sit for a long time fondling the "barchuk," chatting with Annushka, laughing merrily at her stories of village life. She asked a great many questions about little Ivan, and made glowing plans with Annushka for his future. Her bright eyes would fill with tears when Annushka told her how sorrowful it had made her to leave the brown-faced baby, and how bitterly she had cried at parting with him, and she would murmur to the "barchuk" with her lips upon his cheek. "We must make up to him, you and I, Petrushka, for stealing his little mother from him." The barin was much older than his wife, and to Annushka he seemed very terrible. He wore a military uniform, and though he was small in stature he was very broad, and his chest was padded to such an extent that it looked tremendous, and it was covered with a perfect wilderness of orders and medals. His stiff, cropped, iron-gray hair stood up perfectly straight all over his head, and he frowned so dreadfully that there was a deep cleft between his thick black eyebrows. He spoke in a very harsh and irritable voice and the servants stood in terror of him. As for Annushka she fled wildly with the "barchuk" anywhere out of sight when she heard him stumping along the corridors. And so Annushka lived in the barin's household, feeding upon the best, sleeping soundly at night, waited upon hand and foot. And she was very loyal to the little "barchuk" and loved him dearly. But often when he lay at her breast, she shut her eyes and tried to imagine that the little brown Ivanushka was suckling there, and the thought would send a thrill and rush of tenderness all through her. In the bottom of her heart she counted the days until she would be free to fly to him and stay her hunger of longing. One evening the nursery-maid put her head in at the door and said to Annushka. "There's a letter for you, 'Mamka.' Cook is waiting to read it to you." Annushka rose and went into the kitchen, forbidding the girl to leave the nursery until her return. The The kitchen was large and hot and smoky, and one corner of it was partitioned off by a red curtain behind which the men-servants slept. The fat cook was sitting with folded arms on her stool before the table. three lackeys, divested of their white kid gloves were playing cards at a table in the corner. Loud snores came from behind the red curtain, and the sound of giggling from the back staircase which led out of the kitchen, where the maidservants were disporting with the stablemen and courtyard servants. The cook took up the letter and commenced to read. Her face was heavy and stupid, and her pale round eyes were as expressionless as those of a fish. She read in a monotonous indifferent voice, stopping every now and then to grunt and pant: "Dearly loved and respected sisterin-law, Anna-Efeemovna. We wish you in this letter good health and success in all your undertakings. Also your husband, Ivan-Kusmitch, greets you. He has got work in Klim, and wishes you good health and success in their beards and eyebrows till you can chip pieces off them with a hammer, and makes the bugs drop off the wall all your undertakings. Likewise greet you your dearly loved sister-in-law, Marya-Nicholævna, and your beloved brothers-in-law. Stephan-Danilovitch of an unheated room with a rap, as and Anisim-Petrovitch. Also your honorable son, Ivan-Ivanovitch greets you and wishes you good health and success in all your undertakings. Our gossip Matrona-Selivanovna has had dead twins. Likewise greets you Avdotya-Nikitishna. Our neighbor, Vassily Zukick, also greets you. Their pig has got the ringworm. Your brothers-in-law Stephan-Danilovitch and Anisim-Petrovitch, and your husband Ivan-Kusmitch were drunk on Sunday on the money you sent last week. Dashka greets you, and her son has been taken for soldiering. We have no milk for Ivan-Ivanovitch, but yesterday I gave him some tea. The Popadya (priest's wife) is with child again, and with God's help that will make nine; and Grisha the pedlar's son had wed with Pelagaya. We sit in our coats because the men bring us no logs, each saying it is the other's turn to go to the forest. I have wrapped Ivan-Ivanovitch up, and he is lying in a basket. He does not cry at all. His face is blue and we think it is because he is cold. Likewise greets you" . . The monotonous voice continued reading, but Annushka did not hear another word. The She felt as if something heavy had suddenly been placed upon her head, and her ears were deafened. words, "we think he is cold, we think he is cold," kept throbbing in her brain. She rose slowly to her feet and stood for a moment as though bewildered. Then she went quickly out of the kitchen and along the corridor back into the nursery. She stood silently in the middle of the nursery again and the words continued to repeat themselves, "we think he is cold." with no fire in the hut and a temperature which, the peasants say, freezes Cold! stiff as tin-tacks, while you can break a window with the body of a beetle! Ivanuska's little face, blue and pinched rose up before his mother's eyes. She cast herself to the ground and began to cry aloud, in agony, with the loud, shrill, monotonous cry of the suffering peasant-woman. The sound penetrated into the kitchen and startled the cook, who had been gazing in vacant surprise at the table since Annushka's abrupt departure, without an idea as to what had caused it. She got up, and calling some of the maidservants into the kitchen from the back stairs heavily signalled to them to listen. They made their way, a frightened group, towards the nursery, and cautiously opened the door. With scared faces they watched Annushka writhing in her distress. It was such a sudden and extraordinary outbreak on her part that they were frightened to go near her. The cook looked round at them, her light, fishy eyes distended with fear, and whispered, panting, "She's struck. It's God's anger." The barin and barina were at a ball and would not return before the early morning. One of the girls hurried away to fetch the gate-keeper's wife, who had an ugly, sour face, but was known to be a woman of decision and action. She came and looked critically at the stricken "mamka." "Pig!" she said, “she's been drinking.” And she commenced to scold with slow savage energy, as only the Russian woman knows how to scold. Her voice poured out, harsh, grating, excited, and her command of abusive epithets was extraordinary. This treatment was natural and familiar to Annushka. It was reminiscent of the atmosphere in which her life had been passed, and she unconsciously yielded to its influence. She gradually grew quieter, and rising to her feet began to smooth back her tumbled hair. She had never been accustomed to look for sympathy in her sorrows, and so now she said nothing. She sat down on a chair. Her face seemed to have grown suddenly hard and thin, and she looked with sullen hatred at the scolding woman. The latter, out of breath and flushed with victory, nodded triumphantly at the group of servants. She stood for a moment her arms akimbo, watching Annushka in silence. "She'll be quiet enough now," she said after a moment. She turned and went out of the room, and the others followed her. They remained for some minutes whispering in the corridor, and then they moved away and there was silence. Annushka got up and went into the "barchuk's" bedroom. She sent the nursery-girl away and lay down on her bed without undressing. For hours she lay staring into the darkness. Her face kept wrinkling up with the desire to cry, but she sniffed her tears away and bit the sheet to choke her sobs. At one in the morning the "barchuk" awoke and began to seek his food. Annushka's tears fell fast as she sat down with him upon the low chair, and laid him against her breast. "It's you that are drinking his life away," she said to the "barchuk," and for the first time in his life she laid him back in the cradle again without kissing him. At five o'clock Annushka suddenly jumped from her bed, and lit a candle. She hastily combed her hair and plaited it again, and then she put on her boots. She took her cloak out of the wardrobe, and then she lifted the "barchuk" once more from his cradle. "Now, drink your fill." she said to him. When the "barchuk" was asleep in his cradle again. Annushka tied her shawl over her head, and put her cloak on. She crept noiselessly out of the room and down the corridor. She could hear the loud snoring of the menservants coming from the kitchen and the sound burst full upon her when she opened the door. She stole across the kitchen to the door leading on to the back stairs. She slipped the bolts back very carefully, and gently turned the key. Closing the door behind her she went down the stairs into the courtyard. The gatekeeper had gone off duty at four o'clock, and the courtyard was empty. She went through the gate out into the street. There was a sledge standing near the kerbstone, and the driver was asleep upon his box. She awakened him and told him to drive her to the Warsaw Station. There was no train to Klim, the town nearest to her village until seven. She sat down to wait in the furthest corner of the dirty bar in the third-class waiting-room. She pulled her shawl forward over her face and huddled up under her cloak to make herself as small as possible. There was scarcely anybody in the station except the browncoated, wooden-faced gendarmes who were already posted with their rifles at the various entrances to the platform, and pacing backwards and forwards in the big central hall. It seemed an eternity to Annushka as she sat waiting, and every new footstep caused her heart to bound with fear. If they found her they would take her back again, for the "barchuk" could not be left to starve, and it would be extremely difficult to induce him to take strange food. The servants would not notice her absence until seven, when her morning gruel was brought in. And by seven she would be already in the train. If only the “barchuk" would sleep soundly until morning as was his custom, and not arouse the household by fruitless crying! It was a journey of three hours to Klim. The slowness of the train made Annushka desperate. She imagined she could feel the tiny body of Ivanushka already in her arms, and her heart began to beat with anxiety and intense impatience. At last Klim was reached. The country stretching around was flat and covered with snow which looked gray and leaden under the sullen winter sky. Annushka set off to walk to Malinovka. It was about three miles distant. Soon she was overtaken by an old peasant in a sledge. He had been to the market with logs, and he was now returning to a village beyond Malinovka. He would pass Malinovka, and he willingly agreed to take her with him in the sledge. They jolted slowly along over the uneven snow. The horse was small and weak and there were traces of terrible wounds upon his back. The old peasant talked continually in his quavering voice, now urging the little horse forward with arguments and remonstrances as if it were a reasoning being, now turning to acquaint Annushka with the gossip of the countryside-the priest at Semenovka had died of drink, the frost had not been so severe in these parts for ten years, the small-pox had broken out in Varnaki. Annushka scarcely noticed what he said. Her back and ribs were sore with bumping against the wooden sledge. The tips of her fingers stung so painfully because of the frost that she was obliged to grind them one against another to keep up the circulation. Her nose was numb save for a painful prick in the end of it, and every now and then she leaned over and scooped up a handful of snow to rub it in and save it from being frostbitten. Her head was giddy with the thought that she was drawing nearer to Ivanushka, that shortly she would see him and be able to touch him. At Malinovka Annushka got out of the sledge, and, thanking the old peasant, walked quickly up the village street. As she drew near the cottage she saw her sister-in-law, Marfa. stooping over something outside the cottage. She looked up suddenly and caught sight of Annushka. She sprang to her feet and stared aghast at her for a moment, and then without a sign of greeting she dived into the cottage. When Annushka reached the cottage it was empty. An open basket was lying upon the floor near the stove. Annushka threw herself upon her knees beside it with a cry. Ivanushka was lying in the basket. His face was gray in color with a tinge of blue around the eyes and mouth. His lids were pale with spots of blue upon them. They were drawn down half over his eyes and the rims of white showed beneath. There was an air of unutterable distance about him. It seemed to his mother that he was in some way unreal, that however far she stretched her arms towards him she could never reach him. With a clutch of desperate fear at her heart she put out a trembling hand and touched him. The contact of the little body was reassuring, and she lifted him from the basket and took him in her arms. She kissed the little face and head all over, and eagerly whispered his name, "Ivanushka! Ivanushka!" She sat down with him upon a low wooden stool, covering him with the warm folds of her fur-lined cloak. She hastily unwound the grimy rags in which he was enveloped. With a beating heart she began to rub the tiny. stiff, cold limbs. She looked into his face and the feeling that he was infinitely far from her, that he was in some way unreal, overwhelmed her with terror again. She stood up and looked around her wildly with a desire to shriek for help. She tore open the |