_Count Tolstoi, the son of a Russian nobleman, was born in 1828, so he is to-day an old man. The greatest book that has come out of Russia is the tragic but intensely lifelike “Anna Karenina,” published when Tolstoi was forty-seven years old. Much of his early work is extremely interesting and valuable, for artistic reasons, but his late years have been devoted almost entirely to moralising and speculating. A consensus of opinion among students of Russian literature shows that they consider “The Long Exile” to be the author’s best short story._ [Illustration] THE LONG EXILE BY COUNT LEO TOLSTOI Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole. Copyright, 1888, by Thomas V. Crowell & Co. “God sees the truth, but bides his time.” Once upon a time there lived in the city of Vladímir a young merchant named Aksénof. He had two shops and a house. Aksénof himself had a ruddy complexion and curly hair; he was a very jolly fellow and a good singer. When he was young he used to drink too much, and when he was tipsy he was turbulent; but after his marriage he ceased drinking, and only occasionally had a spree. One time in summer Aksénof was going to Nízhni[1] to the great Fair. As he was about to bid his family good-by, his wife said to him: “Iván Dmítrievitch, do not go to-day; I had a dream, and dreamed that some misfortune befell you.” Aksénof laughed at her, and said: “You are always afraid that I shall go on a spree at the Fair.” His wife said: “I myself know not what I am afraid of, but I had such a strange dream: you seemed to be coming home from town, and you took off your hat, and I looked, and your head was all gray.” Aksénof laughed. “That means good luck. See, I am going now. I will bring you some rich remembrances.” And he bade his family farewell and set off. When he had gone half his journey, he fell in with a merchant of his acquaintance, and the two stopped together at the same tavern for the night. They took tea together, and went to sleep in two adjoining rooms. Aksénof did not care to sleep long; he awoke in the middle of the night, and in order that he might get a good start while it was cool he aroused his driver and bade him harness up, went down into the smoky hut, settled his account with the landlord, and started on his way. After he had driven forty versts,[2] he again stopped to get something to eat; he rested in the vestibule of the inn, and when it was noon, he went to the doorstep and ordered the samovár[3] got ready; then he took out his guitar and began to play. Suddenly a troïka[4] with a bell dashed up to the inn, and from the equipage leaped an official with two soldiers; he comes directly up to Aksénof and asks: “Who are you? Where did you come from?” Aksénof answers without hesitation, and asks him if he would not have a glass of tea with him.