[205] A little while longer—and then with a long-drawn sigh of satisfaction he felt the firm earth under foot once more. Kieff at last! Paul could scarcely believe it. Into one of the open vans that meet the weary traveller Paul climbed, and rode across the hills to the fashionable quarter of the town. The Grand Hotel, he found, was very comfortable, and he retired that night in a calmer frame of mind than he had known since he left Paris. For he felt that he was on the threshold.[206] [206] From Kieff Paul proceeded the next morning, accompanied by his faithful Baxter, who held in true British contempt the "houtlandish Russians," and grumbled far more than he was wont as he stowed into the droskie such necessities as a week's absence required. But Paul's eagerness proved infectious, and before the sun had arisen they were far on their way. It seemed a bit unconventional to Paul's English mind to appear at a lady's house without an invitation—even warning of his coming. But there was nothing for it—it was the only course that offered. Those living in Russian country-houses, he knew, were used to entertaining such travellers as came their way unbidden. In sparsely settled districts, where there were not even wretched inns for shelter,[207] it was a custom that had come about quite naturally. [207] Paul had never been in that part of Russia before, and it was with more than passing interest that he observed the scenes around him. At first he could not understand the passion which he knew Mademoiselle Vseslavitch felt for her own country, for near Kieff the land was sterile—the scenery somewhat uneventful. But as the leagues put themselves between him and the town the aspect of the landscape changed. It was early Summer or late Spring then, you remember, and after some hours Paul found himself driven through luxuriant vegetation. As his eye traversed the great billows of the grassy sea he saw that one might easily become lost in the verdure. And yet what glorious reward awaited the bold adventurer! Somewhere, beyond[208] this emerald ocean, waited the lady he sought. [208] At mid-day they stopped before a peasant's hut, in the doorway of which a moujik stood, wrapped in sheepskin and with long and shaggy hair and beard. "Good-day, brother; how goes it?" asked Paul, for he
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