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Both these women were conscious of the little rift within the lute, but such rifts are better treated with silence. That which comes to interfere with a woman's friendship will not often bear discussion. At dusk Steinmetz went out. He had an appointment with the starosta. Paul was sitting in his own room, making a pretence of work, about five o'clock, when Steinmetz came hurriedly to him.

"Only the starosta bringing our horses," replied Steinmetz. "He has discovered nothing." Catrina nodded and held out her hand. "Good-night," she said, rather coldly. "Your secret is safe with me." "Set a thief to catch a thief," reflected Steinmetz. He said nothing, however, when he shook hands. They mounted their horses and rode back the way they had come. For half an hour no one spoke.

"As you like," answered Paul, slipping the fire-arm into his pocket. The starosta moved away a pace or two. He was essentially a man of peace. Half an hour later it became known in the village that the Moscow doctor was in the house of one Ivan Krass, where he was prepared to see all patients who were now suffering from infectious complaints.

When the first excitement passed away, the starosta was questioned closely as to the nature of the letter which had brought this news, and was finally compelled to admit that it did not say distinctly, "Alexander Nikolaivitch, Imperator," but "Yagor" something "Operator," which he contended was substantially the same thing, because if it didn't mean the Emperor himself it meant one of his most intimate relations, who was entitled to equal honour and must be treated with equal reverence.

Then the King called to him a wise man and ordered him to bring the fool by craft, if nothing else would do; so the wise man went to the village where Emelyan lived, called the Starosta before him and said: "I am ordered by the King to take your fool; and therefore ask for the persons with whom he lived." Then the Starosta ran and fetched Emelyan's sisters-in-law.

On the particular evening with which we have to do the beady eyes looked not in vain; for presently, far along the road, appeared a black speck like an insect crawling over the face of a map. "Ah!" said the starosta. "Ah! he never fails." Presently a neighbor dropped in to buy some of the dried leaf which the starosta, honest tradesman, called tea.

It was late in the autumn, one evening remembered by many for its death-roll, that the starosta was standing at the door of his small shop. He was apparently idle. He never sold vodka, and the majority of the villagers were in one of the three thriving "kabaks" which drove a famous trade in strong drink and weak tea. It was a very hot evening.

"The last three nights, Excellency, in Osterno; but it is the same all over the estate." "Only on the estate?" "Yes, Excellency." "Are you sure of that?" "Yes, Excellency." Paul walked on in silence for some paces. The third man followed them without catching them up. "I do not understand, Excellency," said the starosta anxiously. "It is not the Nihilists." "No; it is not the Nihilists."

This class is not the national back-bone, but rather the tinsel trimmings in the national show-window. One time a passing British convoy commandeered some hay at Bolsheozerki. Upon advice of the American officer the starosta accepted a paper due bill from the British officer for the hay.

The door of this cottage was soon besieged by the sick and the idle, while the starosta stood in the door-way and kept order. Within, in the one dwelling-room of the cottage, were assembled as picturesque and as unsavory a group as the most enthusiastic modern "slummer" could desire to see.