Folding the handkerchief, now the most precious of all his belongings, he placed it carefully within his breast, and descended again to the breakfast-room. “And now,” said he, “send me my yamchik, and I’ll ask the scoundrel what he means by taking twelve hours to drive twenty-four miles.” Nadia departed, and presently returned, leading in the yamchik, who stood, cap in hand, smiling and fawning. Yes, shame to him, he _had_ taken a long time in coming from Viaznika to Gora. Ah! why did he ever deviate from the post-road, thinking to take a shorter cut? He didn’t like to tell the gospodin so at the time, but he knew he had lost his way, and he had wandered, and wandered—oh! how he had wandered! “Just as you are doing now,” interrupted Wilfrid. “And yet you say you have performed this same journey a hundred times?” Yes, that was the most wonderful part of it—that he, who had travelled this route one hundred times, should go wrong at the one hundred and first. But there, man must make a certain number of mistakes in his life-time; even the mighty Czar sometimes made mistakes, much more, then, a poor yamchik. But when it was pointed out by means of the map that he had similarly lengthened the stages on other days, the yamchik, while venturing to deny the impeachment, became less glib of tongue; professed that, being unable to read, he could not understand the condemnatory map, and finally grew so dense that Wilfrid, despairing of getting any clear ideas into the fellow’s thick skull, bade him go and harness the horses for the next stage. Was the fellow a fool or a knave? Wilfrid was disposed to rank him among the latter class, having a suspicion that all these manœuvrings on the part of the yamchik had been prompted by some interested motive, a motive, however, that Wilfrid was utterly unable to fathom. It was hardly worth while now to dismiss the fellow, when only three or four days’ journey from St. Petersburg; but, while retaining him, Wilfrid determined not to leave these final stages to his judgment. So, after a brief study of the map, he selected both the route and the stages; and since, from motives of prudence, he did not wish either to overtake the Princess or to appear as if following immediately upon her track, he chose a somewhat circuitous road to the capital in lieu of the direct one. And now, from without, came a jingle of bells and neighing of steeds to tell him that his car was in waiting. Wilfrid rose, called for his bill, and paid it with a liberal overplus. Boris and his daughter accompanied him to the inn door, where a little crowd of servants had assembled to watch the departure of the rich Englishman. Wilfrid turned to say “Good-bye” to Nadia. Her manner plainly showed that she was sorry to part with her guest, who, moved by a generous impulse, drew the pretty serf-maiden to one side.