‘That,’ he replied, after first shifting his pipe from one corner of his mouth to the other, ‘is the students come over from B. to a commersh.’ ‘I’ll have a look at this commersh,’ I thought. ‘I’ve never been over to L. either.’ I sought out a ferryman, and went over to the other side. II Every one, perhaps, may not know what such a commersh is. It is a solemn festival of a special sort, at which students meet together who are of one district or brotherhood (Landsmannschaft). Almost all who take part in the commersh wear the time-honoured costume of German students: Hungarian jackets, big boots, and little caps, with bands round them of certain colours. The students generally assemble to a dinner, presided over by their senior member, and they keep up the festivities till morning--drinking, singing songs, ‘Landesvater,’ ‘Gaudeamus,’ etc., smoking, and reviling the Philistines. Sometimes they hire an orchestra. Just such a commersh was going on in L., in front of a little inn, with the sign of the Sun, in the garden looking on to the street. Flags were flying over the inn and over the garden; the students were sitting at tables under the pollard lime-trees; a huge bull-dog was lying under one of the tables; on one side, in an ivy-covered arbour, were the musicians, playing away zealously, and continually invigorating themselves with beer. A good many people had collected in the street, before the low garden wall; the worthy citizens of L. could not let slip a chance of staring at visitors. I too mingled in the crowd of spectators. I enjoyed watching the students’ faces; their embraces, exclamations, the innocent affectations of youth, the fiery glances, the laughter without cause--the sweetest laughter in the world--all this joyous effervescence of young, fresh life, this eager pushing forward--anywhere, so long as it’s forward--the simple-hearted freedom moved me and stirred me. ‘Couldn’t I join them?’ I was wondering.… ‘Acia, have you had enough of it?’ I heard a man’s voice say suddenly, in Russian, just behind me. ‘Let’s stay a little longer,’ answered another voice, a woman’s, in the same language. I turned quickly round.… My eyes fell on a handsome young man in a peaked cap and a loose short jacket. He had on his arm a young girl, not very tall, wearing a straw hat, which concealed all the upper part of her face. ‘You are Russians,’ fell involuntarily from my lips. The young man smiled and answered-- ‘Yes, we are Russians.’ ‘I never expected … in such an out of the way place,’ I was beginning-- ‘Nor did we,’ he interrupted me. ‘Well, so much the better. Let me introduce myself. My name’s Gagin, and this is my----’ he hesitated for an instant, ‘my sister. What is your name, may I ask?’