"Oh, yes, yes! Now, when they begin to be troublesome--that is, more troublesome than women usually are--some fine morning they see a big square hole cut in the ice, and they leave off as suddenly as they began. Women are plagues at best," he continued after a pause of deep reflection. "Well, little father," said I, still laughing, "if one wishes a picture of the dark side of Russian humanity, I know of no one so well fitted to give it as you." "I am indeed well acquainted with it in my own parishioners. St. Nicholas help me to abuse them!" said he, piously crossing himself. But there was for me something more interesting than the village priest or the commune: Count Kourásoff was seriously contemplating marriage. He scarcely allowed me time to make my modest toilet and eat my simple dinner on the day of my arrival before I was carried off to see his _fiancée_. He told me she was Mademoiselle Olga Orviéff, that she lived at Antokollo,--one of the two fine suburbs of Wilna,--and that she enjoyed a virtual independence, having as her only companion an old aunt quite deaf, nearly blind, and totally incapable. "I suppose," said I on the way to Antokollo, "that Mademoiselle Orviéff is one of those gentle creatures with whom life flows--" "As placidly as a canal," said my friend. "I am gratified to hear it," I replied. "In marriage one needs repose." "Exactly," said Count Loris. "I imagine, therefore," said I after a pause, "she is not one of those superficially gifted women who appear to have minds. Perhaps my description of my beloved Maria may have inclined your fancy to the same type; and, while she embodies my ideas of female excellence, I am sure she never read a book through in her life." "Mademoiselle Olga reads, I fear; but I can easily break her of that after we are married," said Count Kourásoff gravely. "Is she handsome?" I inquired. "She is not ugly," was his guarded answer. "The shallowness of women makes them easily read," said I; "although I speak with diffidence. My knowledge of them is limited: yours, doubtless, is extensive." "Far from it," said he with energy; "the more I see of them the less I know of them." "Then what a frightful risk!" I cried. "My friend, I would not be in your place for the wealth of the empire." "But Mademoiselle Olga has such soft eyes and such dark eyelashes!" said he. "That comforts me when the recollection of the vagaries of her sex casts me down. After all, if we marry at all, we must marry a woman--the philosophers give us no escape from _that_." "Too true, my friend; but the philosophers bid us avoid marriage altogether." "They did not on that account refrain themselves. However, I escaped until my time came; which is all that any of us can expect. Destiny can overtake all of us--even you, my gay and youthful professor. But I do assure you that Mademoiselle Olga has most beautiful eyes."