“No,” said Katerin. “But I wish to be near him for protection in case the Ataman’s officers come here. Now, have you a servant for us who can be trusted not to talk about us?” “Yes, mistress—a sister of my cousin. She waits upon some of the Ataman’s officers who live in the house. It is she who will bring you your samovars and your food. She is safe—not too much sense and little to say to any one.” “Then this is my plan,” said Katerin. “If you will contrive to put us near the American officer, the next thing will be to take care that when the American rings for a samovar the girl does not take it to him, but brings it to us. And I shall carry the samovar to him. He, thinking I am but a samovar girl, may talk with me and I may learn if he seeks among the people of the city for a man by the name of Kirsakoff.” “A Kirsakoff a servant! You, Katerin Stephanovna, a samovar girl in this hotel! How can you think of such a thing?” cried Michael. Katerin laughed merrily and tossed her head, already in a mood for the plan which she had evolved. “I would not be a samovar girl because I play at it, my father,” she said. “What is it but fun? Who can help the Kirsakoffs better than God and themselves?” “But I say you are not to be a servant!” objected Michael. “Better a living servant than a dead aristocrat,” replied Katerin. “What harm can come of it? Is it not wise to be known here as a servant? We have come here as peasants and wish to be known as such for safety. Look at my old black dress! I have on my slippers—see—and I can let down my hair. How will an American know that I am not a samovar girl—unless, as we have said, he recognizes me at once as a Kirsakoff? And I can talk with him, perhaps. He will not be afraid of saying things to a girl who is a servant which he would keep from others.” “And what then?” asked Michael with a frown. “Do you think that this American is going about telling his secret business to any samovar girl? Fi! You must take him for a fool before you have seen him!” “I am afraid that he will know you are not a servant, if I am allowed to say my opinion, mistress,” said the Jew dolefully. “But he is an American,” persisted Katerin. “He probably knows little Russian. But what I wish to learn at once is whether he will know me for a Kirsakoff. And if he does not recognize me, and yet sees that I am not of the servant class, all the more reason why he should suspect that I might know the Kirsakoffs. So he might ask me if I know them. Why should he not ask a samovar girl, when he has asked old Rimsky for General Kirsakoff? Do you think I will only take his food to him and then run away without a word?” “And what else can you do?” asked her father. “I shall talk to him—of the weather, and the troubles that have come upon the people. And if he does not tell me why he has come to Chita, I shall try and learn it from him. Can he speak Russian, do you know, Mr. Slipitsky?”