I told him my name, and we got into conversation. I found out that Gagin was travelling, like me, for his amusement; that he had arrived a week before at L., and was staying on there. To tell the truth, I was not eager to make friends with Russians abroad. I used to recognise them a long way off by their walk, the cut of their clothes, and, most of all, by the expression of their faces which was self-complacent and supercilious, often imperious, but would all of a sudden change, and give place to an expression of shyness and cautiousness.… The whole man would suddenly be on his guard, his eyes would shift uneasily.… ‘Mercy upon us! Haven’t I said something silly; aren’t they laughing at me?’ those restless eyes seem to ask.… An instant later and haughtiness has regained its sway over the physiognomy, varied at times by a look of dull blankness. Yes, I avoided Russians; but I liked Gagin at once. There are faces in the world of that happy sort; every one is glad to look at them, as though they warmed or soothed one in some way. Gagin had just such a face--sweet and kind, with large soft eyes and soft curly hair. He spoke in such a way that even if you did not see his face, you could tell by the mere sound of his voice that he was smiling! The girl, whom he had called his sister, struck me at the first glance as very charming. There was something individual, characteristic in the lines of her dark, round face, with its small, fine nose, almost childish cheeks, and clear black eyes. She was gracefully built, but hardly seemed to have reached her full development yet. She was not in the least like her brother. ‘Will you come home with us?’ Gagin said to me; ‘I think we’ve stared enough at the Germans. Our fellows, to be sure, would have broken the windows, and smashed up the chairs, but these chaps are very sedate. What do you say, Acia, shall we go home?’ The girl nodded her head in assent. ‘We live outside the town,’ Gagin continued, ‘in a vineyard, in a lonely little house, high up. It’s delightful there, you’ll see. Our landlady promised to make us some junket. It will soon be dark now, and you had much better cross the Rhine by moonlight.’ We set off. Through the low gates of the town (it was enclosed on all sides by an ancient wall of cobble-stones, even the barbicans had not all fallen into ruins at that time), we came out into the open country, and after walking a hundred paces beside a stone wall, we came to a standstill before a little narrow gate. Gagin opened it, and led us along a steep path up the mountain-side. On the slopes on both sides was the vineyard; the sun had just set, and a delicate rosy flush lay on the green vines, on the tall poles, on the dry earth, which was dotted with big and little stones, and on the white wall of the little cottage, with sloping black beams, and four bright little windows, which stood at the very top of the mountain we had climbed up.