“I care nothing for gossip. But I can see that you live on it, as an old gander lives on snails,” said Peter laughingly. “I am going to the Dauria—I am an American officer. But see that you do not gossip about me, old fellow.” Rimsky wagged his old head and cackled wisely. “A tight lip fools the devil,” warned Peter. “If you talk I’ll tell Zorogoff you charged me double for cigarettes. But I’ll come in and see you some day, and bring a bottle of vodka.” “Then God guard you till you return!” cried Rimsky, and Peter went out through the door of the hut. Rimsky sat chuckling into his beard after Peter had departed. And more than once the old cigarette-seller told himself, “The sturgeon does not become a sterlet because he leaves the river for the lake, and the Russian does not become a foreigner by changing his coat.” That was a saying of wise men. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ VII OLD RIMSKY THINKS OLD Rimsky had a wise head. Many people were afraid of him and said that he talked with witches and had charms against evil—and he did sell charms against sickness, bad luck and poor crops. Besides, he had the reputation of knowing many things before they happened. But he was merely a wise old owl with the keen perception of human motives which is sometimes given to the unlettered man, though he could read well enough to get the meanings out of newspapers if there were not too many words in the articles invented by aristocrats to fool the poor people. He spent the remainder of the day thinking about the Russian in the American coat who paid double for cigarettes and took a profit in getting answers to questions. He had watched Peter closely, and turned the whole matter over mentally, sitting by his fire and drinking tea. Rimsky decided that he had not been clever enough with the stranger. It was plain enough now that the stranger had come to learn something about Michael Alexandrovitch Kirsakoff who had been Governor. And the stranger did not know where Michael was to be found. In some way the business could be turned to profit and over many glasses of smoky tea Rimsky evolved a plan by which he could put money in his purse. There was an old pig-killing _moujik_ named Ilya Andreitch who slept in the basement of a bakery on a street up near the bazaar. Ilya had worked for Kirsakoff years before, and should know where the general lived if anybody did. As for that, Rimsky now remembered that Ilya had once boasted that he knew where Kirsakoff lived since the troubles came and all the rich people were in hiding.