"Without the slightest. I was already at that time a crushed man. When yet a youth the marrow of my bones had been poisoned in the mines of Siberia. During the whole time of my settlement, I have been since 1858 keeper of that inn; I gave the authorities no cause for suspicion, but I was a 'forced man,' and that sufficed for pouncing upon me." "Forced! what does it mean?" "Well, a person forced to accept, when to others free choice is left--domicile, trade or calling, wife and religion." "Terrible!" I exclaimed. "And you submitted?" A little smile played around his thin lips. "Are you so much moved at my fate? We generally bear very easily the most severe pains endured by others." "That is a saying of Larochefoucauld," I said, somewhat surprised. "Have you read him?" "I was at one time very fond of French literature. But pardon my acrimony. I am but little accustomed to sympathy, and indeed of what avail would it be to me now!" He stared painfully at the ground, and I also became silent, convinced that any superficial expression of sympathy would, under the circumstances, be downright mockery. A painful pause ensued, which I broke with the question, if he had worked the engraving upon the lid of the box after a pattern. "No, from memory," was his rejoinder. "It is a peculiar kind of architecture!" "It is like all gentlemen's houses in Littauen; only the old tree is very striking. It was a very old house." "Has been? Does it exist no longer?" "It was burnt down seven years ago by the Russians, after they had first ransacked it. They evidently were not aware that they destroyed their own property. It had been confiscated years before, and had been Crown property since 1848." "And have you yet the outlines of the building so firmly engraved on your memory?" "Of course! it was my birth-place, which I had rarely left until I was eighteen years old. Such things are not easily forgotten. And although more than twenty years have passed since this sad affair, hardly a day passed on which I did not think of my paternal home. I was aware of the death of my mother, and that my cousin was worse than dead--perhaps I ought to have rejoiced when the old mansion was burnt to the ground; but yet I could not suppress a tear when the news reached me. There is hardly anything on earth which can now move me." I record literally what the unfortunate man related. My Jewish coachman, not easily impressed, had during the conversation crept gradually nearer, and shook his head seriously and sorrowfully. "Excuse me, Pani Walerian," he interrupted: "upon my honour, yours is a sad story!" He launched out into practical politics, and concluded thus: "A Pole is not as clever as I am. If he (the Pole) was the equal of the Russian, well and good, fight it out; but the Russian is a hundred times stronger; therefore, Pani Walerian, why irritate him, why confront him?"