“These people,” he said, “would die of starvation and cold and sickness if we did not help them.  It is simply impossible for them in the few months that they can work the land to cultivate it so as to yield any more than their taxes.  They are overtaxed, and no one cares.  The army must be kept up and a huge Civil Service, and no one cares what happens to the peasants.  Some day the peasants must turn, but not yet.  It is a question for all Russian land-owners to face, and nobody faces it.  If any one tries to improve the condition of his peasants—­they were happier a thousand times as serfs—­the bureaucrats of Petersburg mark him down and he is forced to leave the country.  The whole fabric of this Government is rotten, but every-one, except the peasants, would suffer by its fall, and therefore it stands.”

Etta was staring into the fire.  It was impossible to say whether she heard with comprehension or not.  Paul went on: 

“There is nothing left, therefore, but to go and do good by stealth.  I studied medicine with that view.  Steinmetz has scraped and economized the working of the estate for the same purpose.  The Government will not allow us to have a doctor; they prevent us from organizing relief and education on anything like an adequate scale.  They do it all by underhand means.  They have not the pluck to oppose us openly!  For years we have been doing what we can.  We have almost eradicated cholera.  They do not die of starvation now.  And they are learning—­very slowly, but still they are learning.  We—­I—­thought you might be interested in your people; you might want to help.”

She gave a short little nod.  There was a suggestion of suspense in her whole being and attitude, as if she were waiting to hear something which she knew could not be avoided.

“A few years ago,” he went on, “a gigantic scheme was set on foot.  I told you a little about it—­the Charity League.”

Her lips moved, but no sound came from them, so she nodded a second time.  A tiny carriage-clock on the mantel-piece struck seven, and she looked up in a startled way, as if the sound had frightened her.  The castle was quite still.  Silence seemed to brood over the old walls.

“That fell through,” he went on, “as I told you.  It was betrayed.  Stepan Lanovitch was banished.  He has escaped, however; Steinmetz has seen him.  He succeeded in destroying some of the papers before the place was searched after the robbery—­one paper in particular.  If he had not destroyed that, I should have been banished.  I was one of the leaders of the Charity League.  Steinmetz and I got the thing up.  It would have been for the happiness of millions of peasants if it had not been betrayed.  In time—­we shall find out who did it.”

He paused.  He did not say what he would do when he had found out.

Etta was staring into the fire.  Her lips were dry.  She hardly seemed to be breathing.