"So," said Vassili, with a comprehensive bow to all his guests--"so you
are bound for Russia. But I envy you--I envy you. You know Russia, Mme.
la Princesse?"
Etta met his veiled gaze calmly.
"A little," she replied.
There was no sign of recognition in his eyes now, nor pallor on her
face.
"A beautiful country, but the rest of Europe does not believe it. And
the estate of the prince is one of the vastest, if not the most
beautiful. It is a sporting estate, is it not, prince?"
"Essentially so," replied Paul. "Bears, wolves, deer, besides, of
course, black game, capercailzie, ptarmigan--every thing one could
desire."
"Speaking as a sportsman," suggested Vassili gravely.
"Speaking as a sportsman."
"Of course--" Vassili paused, and with a little gesture of the hand
included Steinmetz in the conversation. It may have been that he
preferred to have him talking than watching. "Of course, like all great
Russian landholders, you have your troubles with the people, though you
are not, strictly speaking, within the famine district."
"Not quite; we are not starving, but we are hungry," said Steinmetz
bluntly.
Vassili laughed, and shook a gold eye-glass chidingly.
"Ah, my friend, your old pernicious habit of calling a spade a spade! It
is unfortunate that they should hunger a little, but what will you? They
must learn to be provident, to work harder and drink less.
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