The next morning I had a long conversation with the young peasant who, the Feldsher said, had brains. I asked him, among other things, if he thought the Government was right in relying on what it calls the innate and fundamental conservatism of the great mass of the Russian people. “If the Government says that the whole of the peasantry is Conservative it lies,” he said. “It is true that a great part of the people is rough--uneducated--but there are many who know. The war opened our eyes. You see, the Russian peasant is accustomed to be told by the authorities that a glass (taking up my tumbler) is a man, and to believe it. The Army is on the side of the Government. At least it is really on the side of the people, but it feels itself helpless. The soldiers are afraid of being punished. If they could act together like they did at Kharkov this summer (a regiment mutinied there and all the troops sent to quell the mutiny joined the mutineers) all would be over in a day--and the Government will never yield except to force. There is nothing to be done.” And we talked of other things. The recruits joined in the conversation, and I offered a small meat patty to one of them, who said: “No, thank you. I am greatly satisfied with you as it is, without your giving me a meat patty.” The theft which had taken place in the night was discussed from every point of view. “We took pity on him and we hid him,” they said, “and he robbed us.” They spoke of it without any kind of bitterness or grievance, and nobody said, “I told you so.” Then we arrived at St. Petersburg. DOWN THE VOLGA