uprightness, no help was possible. How can one help a man who does
not disclose his whole condition? At first I blamed them for this
(it is so natural to blame some one else); but a remark from an
observing man named Siutaeff, who was visiting me at the time,
explained this matter to me, and showed me where the cause of my want
of success lay. I remember that Siutaeff's remark struck me very
forcibly at the time; but I only understood its full significance
later on. It was at the height of my self-delusion. I was sitting
with my sister, and Siutaeff was there also at her house; and my
sister was questioning me about my undertaking. I told her about it,
and, as always happens when you have no faith in your course, I
talked to her with great enthusiasm and warmth, and at great length,
of what I had done, and of what might possibly come of it. I told
her every thing,--how we were going to keep track of pauperism in
Moscow, how we were going to keep an eye on the orphans and old
people, how we were going to send away all country people who had
grown poor here, how we were going to smooth the pathway to reform
for the depraved; how, if only the matter could be managed, there
would not be a man left in Moscow, who could not obtain assistance.
My sister sympathized with me, and we discussed it. In the middle of
our conversation, I glanced at Siutaeff. As I was acquainted with
his Christian life, and with the significance which he attached to
charity, I expected his sympathy, and spoke so that he understood
this; I talked to my sister, but directed my remarks more at him. He
sat immovable in his dark tanned sheepskin jacket,--which he wore,
like all peasants, both out of doors and in the house,--and as though
he did not hear us, but were thinking of his own affairs. His small
eyes did not twinkle, and seemed to be turned inwards. Having
finished what I had to say, I turned to him with a query as to what
he thought of it.