I told him, and we began a conversation. I learned that Gagin, like myself, was travelling for pleasure; that he had arrived at L---- the week previous, and was now staying there. To speak candidly, I was always unwilling to make the acquaintance of Russians in other countries. I could recognize them at any distance by their gait, the cut of their clothes, and more than all by the expression of their faces. The self-satisfied, scornful, and usually haughty expression would change suddenly to one timid and suspicious; in a moment the whole man is on his guard, his glance wanders about unsteadily. "Have I said anything ridiculous? Are they laughing at me?" this anxious look seems to say. But a moment more, and the majesty of the physiognomy is restored, only occasionally replaced by stupidity. Yes, I avoided Russians, but Gagin pleased me at once. There are such fortunate faces in the world. To look at them is a pleasure for every one. One feels at once cheered and caressed by them. Gagin had just such a gentle, attractive face, with great soft eyes and fine curly hair. When he spoke, even if you did not see his face, you felt by the mere sound of his voice that he was smiling. The young girl whom he had called his sister also seemed to me at the first glance very lovely. There was something peculiar and remarkable in the traits of her round, brown face, with its thin, delicate nose, its round, almost babyish cheeks, and its clear, dark eyes. Her form was graceful, but apparently not yet fully developed. She did not in the least resemble her brother. "Will you come home with us?" Gagin asked me. "I think we have seen enough of the Germans. Our beloved countrymen would certainly have broken some window panes or smashed a few chairs, but these fellows are quite too well behaved. What do you say, Assja, shall we go home?" The young girl nodded assent. "We live just beyond the village," Gagin continued, "in a little solitary house far up the hillside. It is really fine there. You shall see for yourself. The landlady promised me to have some buttermilk for us. It will be dark very soon, and then you can cross the Rhine far more pleasantly by moonlight." We set out. Through a low gate--for the town was surrounded on all sides by an old wall, some of whose loop-holes even yet remained undestroyed--we gained the open country, and after we had walked about a hundred paces beside a stone wall we came to a steep and narrow path up the hill, into which Gagin turned. The slope on both sides was planted with grapes. The sun had but just set, and a soft purple light rested on the green vines, the long poles, the dusty soil covered with bits of broken slate and stone, and upon the white walls of a small house with steep roof and light windows, which stood high above us on the mountain which we were climbing.