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Show 16 'l‘lll", ll.\lll{ l-‘HIIICS'I‘ perial and sharp. inquisitive moustaehes: his hair was light brown and he was iuimeust l_\' proud of it. in l'etrogi'ad he was always very smartly «lresseil. He bought his elothes in London and his plump hands had a movement familiar to all his friends, a tlielwr of his hands to his mat, his waisteoat, his trousers. to brush oll‘ some imaginary speeh of dust. It was obvious now that he had ;"i\‘t'l| very mueh thought to his uniform. lt titted him perfeetly. his epaulettes g‘lit» tered. his boots shone, his sword was magnilieent. but he looked in spite of all his ell'orts. e\:ietly what he was. a rich successful merehant: never was there any one less military. He had dressed up. one might suppose, for some taney-dress ball. I could see at onee that he was ill at, ease. anxious as ever to please every one, to like every one. to he liked in return, but. unable, because of some thought that troubled him, to give his whole attentimt to this business of pleasing. lle greeted me with a warmth that was really genuine, although he bestowed it upon his merest :uwluaintances. His great dream in life was a univm'sal popularityr-that every one should love him. At any rate at that time I thought that to be his dr‘am-l know now that there was something else. " But Ivan Petrovitchl . . . This, is delightful! Here we all are! What pleasure! Thank God, We're all here, no delays, nothing unfortunate. SPRING IN THE TRAIN 17 with Trenchard, said that he was glad to see us and was silent again. 'l‘renohard stammered and blushed, said something in very bad Russian, then glanced anxiously, with an eager light in his mild blue eyes, in the direction of the excited crowd that chattered and stirred about the train. There was something, in that look of his, that both touched and irritated me. "What does he come for 2" I thought to myself. "With his bad Russian and his English preju- dices. Of course he'll be lonely and then he'll be in every one's way." I could remember, readily enough, some of the loneliness of those first months of my own, when both war and the Russians had differed so from my expectations. This fel- low looked just the figure for high romantic pictures. He had, doubtless, seen Russia in the colours of the pleasant superficial books of travel that have of late, in England, been so popular, books that see in the Russian a blessed sort of Idiot unable to read or write but vitally conscious of God, and in Russia a land of snow, ikons, mushrooms and pilgrims. Yes, he would be disappointed. unhappy, and tiresome. Upon myself would fall the chief burden of his trouble-I should have enough upon my shoulders without him. The golden fan had vanished from the station walls. A dim pale glow, with sparkles as of gold dust shining here An :lCnglishinan? . . . and there upon that grimy world, faltered and trembled be- Indeed, I am very glad! Your friend speaks Russian? Not very much, but enough? . . . You know Vladimir fore the rattle and roar that threatened it. Nevertheless, Spring was with us at our departure. As the bells rang, as the ladies of our Committee screamed and laughed, as Anna Mihailovna showered directions and advice upon us, as we Stepanovitch? Dr. Nikitin . . . my friend Meester Dur- ward. Also Meester? . . . ah, I beg your pardon, Tron- sart. Two Englishmen in our Otriad . . . the alliance, yes, delightful l" Nikitin slowly Opened his eyes, shook hands with me and crowded backwards into our compartment before the first jolt of the departing train, Spring was with us . . . but of course we were all of us too busy to be aware of it. |