“What did the American say? Who knows?” asked Ilya. “The fool is drunk!” growled Michael. “Come! Speak up! Or have you drowned your tongue in vodka and come here to make fools of us?” Ilya’s face began to perspire, and he twisted his cap into a rope. “Have no fear, Ilya,” said Katerin soothingly. “May God smite me!” cried Ilya. “It was Rimsky who told me about it and I ran here to tell the Excellence!” “And who is Rimsky?” demanded Michael. “Where did he learn of the man who has come to see me?” Ilya brushed his brow with the back of his hand. “Rimsky is an old friend of mine—a good man, Excellence, who means harm to no one and is a loyal man to his Czar.” “And what did this Rimsky tell you?” “That the Excellence would pay me well to bring the news.” Michael laughed and his irritation disappeared. “So you have a friend named Rimsky who gives away my money, eh? And so I will pay you—if we can dig the news out of your skull. Now tell us what it is that the American said.” Ilya began to twist his cap into a rope with both hands, and swallowed spittle. “Excellence, I have done no harm,” he began. “I am a poor man. I once cut wood for the Excellence. I am very secret. Rimsky tried to fish it from me where the Excellence was living, but I did not tell him. I left him drunk, and he does not know that I know where the Excellence lives, and he does not know I have come to the house of Excellence.” Ilya looked triumphantly at Katerin after this speech, and bowed again, feeling that he had handled the matter well, though he sought a sign of approval from the daughter of the Governor. “What has all this to do with the American officer?” asked Michael. “That is what we are talking about, Ilya. You are very smart to have done what you did—now tell us more of it.” “Rimsky sells cigarettes in an old _isba_ in the Sofistkaya,” resumed Ilya. “He told me it was a pity he did not know where the Excellence lived, and he fished me for it. That is all. And I have come to tell Excellence.” Michael expressed his dismay by a look at Katerin. He believed now that Ilya’s visit was only some drunken foolishness, or probably a trick. “They have told this to Ilya so that they might follow him here. This is the work of enemies,” said Michael. “Master!” began Wassili, holding up his hand, and then turning to Ilya, said, “You told me it was a matter of government. You said there was an American. Tell the master, as you told me, fool!” “May God smite me, it is as I say!” retorted Ilya to Wassili with a show of anger. “There is an American come for Michael Alexandrovitch Kirsakoff, the master general and Governor. It is truth!” “You say it, but how do you know it?” asked Katerin. She was beginning to feel that her father was right—that there were no grounds for their hopes other than a desire of this crafty _moujik_ and some of his fellows to squeeze money from her father. But she concealed her disappointment.