George hesitated a moment, then said,—
"I suppose you know that you are doing a very unconventional thing?"
"It is a matter of utter indifference to me. I don't wish to kill the maid,—that is all."
"You might drive home also."
"Yes, but I don't care to drive. I shall walk home alone if you desert me."
"Not for the world!" he cried hastily. "I shall be only too happy to accompany you."
He hailed a passing istvostchik, packed Mathilde in, and then surveyed me with a critical eye. "You are cold?"
I shook my head emphatically.
"You have a bashlik around your neck; put it over your ears, please."
I complied willingly with his request, for the air was piercing since the sun had departed and the early night had begun to fall.
We walked on briskly, and George, finding that his flow of conversation fell on rather inattentive ears, relapsed into a silence which was unbroken until we reached the canal bridge. Here my companion slackened his steps, and drew my attention to a little colony of Laplanders which we could see below us on the ice. Their tent of skins had an opening just large enough for a person to crawl in on all fours. A tiny team of reindeer stood near by.
"You can take a ride for two or three kopecks, if you like," said George. "But the poor reindeer suffer
