“The serfs held their tattered caps in their hands and fidgeted uneasily while their _starosta_ was speaking. There was a look of intense anxiety upon their pinched faces, for they had been driven to the last extremity. “‘It is your duty to pay me,’ replied my father impatiently. ‘If you do not I shall treat it as insubordination. You know what that means.’ “‘_Batiushka!_’ exclaimed the white-haired old man whose head was bowed. ‘We cannot pay just yet, even if our Father the Tzar came himself and demanded the tax.’ “‘Silence!’ thundered my father. ‘You shall pay it. I’ll hear no excuses, you understand. It must be paid within a week from to-day—every kopeck.’ “The _starosta_ shook his head sorrowfully, saying— “‘Your High Nobility, it is impossible. We have no money, and we have nothing that we can sell.’ “‘No more words!’ my father cried. ‘I’ll not be dictated to. You have nothing that you can sell, have you? Very well. I give you one week in which to find the money.’ “‘Have you no pity, _barin_?’ implored the old man. “My father smiled sarcastically. ‘Begone! You know my decision,’ he said coldly, and, lighting a fresh cigarette, turned his back upon them. “Broken-hearted and despairing, the starving _moujiks_ filed slowly out of the warm, well-furnished room, and with revenge in their souls sought their own cheerless homes. I endeavoured to mediate on behalf of the poor wretches, but to my supplications my father turned a deaf ear. ‘No, I’ll teach the brutes a lesson,’ he said. “He kept his word, for within a week the knout fell heavily upon the backs of some of the defaulters. These arbitrary acts nearly caused a revolt, but this was rapidly suppressed by my father, who caused the ringleaders, together with the _starosta_ to receive publicly two hundred lashes, as a warning to all who tried to oppose his authority. “The weeks passed, the snow disappeared, and spring came. “My favourite spot was at the bottom of the lower garden, on a little bridge that was thrown over a small swamp. The view was extremely restricted, but very melancholy and pleasing. There was a small pond with overgrown banks, directly behind it was the dense pine forest, and drooping over the pond was an ancient birch clinging to the damp bank with its thick roots, and swaying its curling branches over the unruffled surface of the pool, which gave back the reflection of the drooping boughs and surrounding greenery. “Seated one afternoon upon an old stump I was smoking, enjoying the bright sunshine and calm solitude, when suddenly I discovered an intruder. Leaning on the railing of the little bridge, with her profile towards me, and looking down into the water, was a young girl. She had evidently forgotten herself, and had no thought that she was being observed. Her large eyes were full of intent observation, of deep clear thought, her pose was unaffected, yet hers was the most beautiful face I had ever seen.