CHAPTER I

As a child. Serge lived with his father--Ivan Ivanovitch
--and his mother--Katrina Katerinavitch. In the house,
too were Nitska, the serving maid. Itch, the serving man,
and Yump, the cook, his wife.

The house stood on the borders of a Russian town. It was
in the heart of Russia. All about it was the great plain
with the river running between low banks and over it the
dull sky.

Across the plain ran the post road, naked and bare. In
the distance one could see a moujik driving a three-horse
tarantula, or perhaps Swill, the swine-herd, herding the
swine. Far away the road dipped over the horizon and was
lost.

"Where does it go to?" asked Serge. But no one could tell
him.

In the winter there came the great snows and the river
was frozen and Serge could walk on it.

On such days Yob, the postman, would come to the door,
stamping his feet with the cold as he gave the letters
to Itch.