Easter eve came at last; and still isolation and solitude reigned at Novoi Nicolofsky,--as Ivan, in memory of his early home, had named this settlement, of which he was the founder. The short day had closed; and Ivan, robed in furs from head to foot, came in from his manifold labours to enjoy a quiet half-hour with Clémence. He was now about two-and-thirty, and looked even older; for thought and toil and the habit of command had set their seal upon his broad, open forehead. Yet he had lost nothing of his frank, cheerful air; and when he flung off his furs, and seated himself at the fire by the side of Clémence, they looked as handsome and as happy a couple as could have been found in any land or clime. With a smile of welcome Clémence laid aside her work--a little pair of reindeer-skin moccasins. “I am glad you have come so early, Ivan,” she said. “We can have a few minutes’ quiet talk before we go down to the church to listen to the reading. How pleasant it is to keep, here in the far north, our dear Russian custom of the Easter evening Bible reading!” “Yes; our little church is crowded to-night. I have just been looking in. Vanka the huntsman was reading the story of our Lord’s Passion according to St. John, and I saw many a tearful face and heard many a sob in the stillness. I meant to have read for them myself, but I would not disturb him. I can read by-and-by, when we go there together.” “What a beautiful custom it is, this reading of God’s Word for his brethren by any poor man who is able to do it!” said Clémence. “Where is Pope Yefim?” “In his own room, I believe. You know that on Easter eve our priests usually leave the churches to the people.” “The poor lads who are out on duty miss something.” “True; but they will have their turn by-and-by. We all must miss something,” he added, smiling. “But then we all have our compensations.” “I think the want of tidings from our dear ones is our only _real_ trial,” Clémence answered. “I sometimes long to see my mother’s face, Ivan, and to show her our darlings. What a happy little visit that was which she paid us in St. Petersburg before we left! But for that I should have felt the long separation far more.” “It was very good of her to come such a distance on such short notice; and it sent us on our way with lightened hearts. And does not the thought that Henri is at Tobolsk help to break the sense of separation?” “Really it does: compared with Paris, or even with St. Petersburg, Tobolsk seems close at hand.” “How well he is getting on there, too,” said Ivan. “In a year or two, God willing, he may settle near us in Moscow or in St. Petersburg; and our dear mother can then divide her time between her son and daughter.” “What a happy dream!” said Clémence. “And yet _not_ a dream, but a sober, practicable plan, a hope that may soon be realized. How good God is to us, Ivan!”