The foothills of the Urals begin to rise, very gradually, out of the plain at this point. In the distance faint blue summits and gleaming snow peaks border the western horizon. The summer climate is delicious, and but for the isolation Nadia would have enjoyed her Siberian summers. With her was an English lady, Miss Forester, formerly her governess, now her companion. Stepan Stepanovitch was by no means the traditional Russian despotic governor, grinding the faces of the poor. He was a just man, if a somewhat hard one. He knew the people with whom he had to deal, and was respected for his steady justice. He was a man with a hobby, and the nature of his enthusiasm was one which is rare among his race. He greatly desired to see the resources of this vast tract of practically useless country opened up and developed. He saw in Siberia the future of Russia. To anyone who did anything for the furtherance of his great idea he showed the utmost encouragement and kindness. And within driving distance from Nicolashof there was such a man established. Vronsky had bought the mining rights of the copper which had been newly discovered at Savlinsky, and in the midst of the steppe had called into being a center of industry. For this reason Stepan Stepanovitch loved him. His burly figure was constantly to be seen, side by side with Vronsky's tall, thin one, among the wooden huts, not unlike Swiss cottages, which clustered thickly where Vronsky had gashed the plain with his excavations. And Vronsky was at all times a welcome guest at Nicolashof, where also went constantly his secretary and adopted son, Felix Vanston; for the young man had abandoned his alias upon passing into Asia. Vronsky was on the way to become a rich man. He had a genius for the development of industry--a genius which the delighted Governor could not sufficiently admire. His workmen were all Kirgiz, among whom there is practically no Nihilism and no treachery. In fact, these things attract but small attention in the remote province. The Kirgiz, besides being a more reliable person, works for lower wages than the Russian. Work in those parts--good, regular work with good, regular wages--was not easy to come by. The venture had prospered exceedingly. One glorious summer day, about two o'clock Vronsky was in bed, a most unwilling victim of a bout of fever. He lay in his pleasant room, under his mosquito net, smoking lazily and glancing at the papers. Presently, with a tap on the door, a young man entered in an English suit, brown shoes, and straw hat. A racquet was in his hand. "Well, old man, I suppose you can't go to Nicolashof to-day? I must make your excuses to the Governor?" he said, lightly.