harness. He did not insist on a very high degree of cleanliness,
however; and, in answer to some remark of mine, said once, 'A cottage
ought to smell as if it were lived in.'

'Look,' I answered, 'how clean it is in Kalinitch's beehouse.'

'The bees would not live there else, your honour,' he said with a sigh.

'Tell me,' he asked me another time, 'have you an estate of your own?'
'Yes.' 'Far from here?' 'A hundred miles.' 'Do you live on your land,
your honour?' 'Yes.'

'But you like your gun best, I dare say?'

'Yes, I must confess I do.' 'And you do well, your honour; shoot grouse
to your heart's content, and change your bailiff pretty often.'

On the fourth day Mr. Polutikin sent for me in the evening. I was sorry
to part from the old man. I took my seat with Kalinitch in the trap.
'Well, good-bye, Hor--good luck to you,' I said; 'good-bye, Fedya.'

'Good-bye, your honour, good-bye; don't forget us.' We started; there
was the first red glow of sunset. 'It will be a fine day to-morrow,' I
remarked looking at the clear sky. 'No, it will rain,' Kalinitch
replied; 'the ducks yonder are splashing, and the scent of the grass is
strong.' We drove into the copse. Kalinitch began singing in an
undertone as he was jolted up and down on the driver's seat, and he
kept gazing and gazing at the sunset.

The next day I left the hospitable roof of Mr. Polutikin.