"What! Didn't you eat it? Don't you know, madam, that these spice-cakes are renowned for their qualities all over Russia, and are even carried to the remotest parts of Siberia and of China, also, I believe, in great quantities? [He had got ahead of the guide-book in that last particular!] _Why_ didn't you eat it?" "It did not taste good; and besides, I was afraid of indigestion. It seemed never to have been cooked, unless by exposure to the sun, and it was soggy and heavy as lead. You know there has been a great deal of rain lately, and what sun we have even now is very pale and weak, hardly adapted to baking purposes." This seemed to enrage my hairy mentor, and he poured out a volume of indignant criticism, reproach, and ejaculations, all tangled up with fragments of cookery receipts, though evidently not the receipt for the Gorodetz cakes, which is a secret. The other passengers listened in amazement and delight. When he paused for breath, I remarked:-- "Well, I don't see any harm in having bestowed such a delicate luxury on the poor stewardess. Did any of you think to buy a cake for her? And why not? I denied myself to give her pleasure. Look at it in that light for a while, sir, if my bad taste offends you. And, in the mean while, tell me what has inspired you with the taste to dress like a peasant?" That settled him, and he retreated. That evening he and the friend with whom he seemed to be traveling talked most entertainingly in the little saloon, after supper. The friend, a round, rosy, jolly man, dressed in ordinary European clothes, was evidently proud of his flow of language, and liked to hear himself talk. Actors, actresses, and theatres in Russia, from the middle of the last century down to the present day, were his favorite topic, on which he declaimed with appropriate gestures and very noticeable management of several dimples in his cheeks. As a matter of course, he considered the present day degenerate, and lauded the old times and dead actors and actresses only. It seemed that the longer they had been dead, the higher were their merits. He talked very well, also, about books and social conditions. The progress of the weak-kneed steamer against wind and current was very slow and uncertain, and we never knew when we should reach any given point. Even the mouths of the rivers were not so exciting or important in nature as they used to look to me when I studied geography. I imparted to the captain my opinion that his engine was no better than a _samovar_. He tried hard to be angry, but a glance at that ridiculous machine convinced him of the justice of my comparison, and he broke into a laugh.