Again there is the work that Lucie is doing.  I do not know for whom she works, though I can see she is not working by herself.  I can see that there is 1st, a certain participation of people with means—­she has money and certain buying capacities, a sign of great importance at present:  2d, there is evidently a planned and systematic scheme of work in all the actions around me; 3d, there is an unseen hand directing the whole enterprise, decisive and strong.

What is this plan?  I can as now see only one thing:  provisions are made, both in food and munitions, and shipped through my home east.  There is an intense wireless communication—­I cannot know what it is about.  A man in smoked glasses comes every evening and sits—­near the apparatus.  Sometimes he only listens in; sometimes he gets his “tune” and talks.  In the latter case, Lucie goes down town and leaves me at home.  I think she mails the communications or maybe someone waits for her in the post office, or, what is possible....

(few lines scratched out)

...  Her Russian is not at all good, she hardly speaks it in fact, but she gets along as Lucie de Clive, a French demoiselle.  With her, as far as I can see are the following elements:  1st, the British officer,—­Stanley, or whatever his name really is; 2d, the silent Russian, with wiry Siberian hat and extremely profane language (I think he swears when praying):  3d, two Letts as she calls them, though there is just as much Lettish in them as in you, or me,—­they both speak Russian like Russians; 4th, myself.  About the last point I can tell, that lately I am in the traffic business.  Lucie asks me very often to take loads to the outskirts of Tumen, near the Freight Depot, which we receive with the Siberian pony, and I take it in my sledge behind the Depot, where I deliver the goods—­only in the evenings—­to the Letts.  Sometimes we speak, but never much.

Usually, “Very cold,” or “How snowy,” or “Have you a cigarette?” After delivering the goods—­altogether I have done it about five times, I return home.  The Letts wait to move until I go away; I did not succeed in trailing them—­and honestly would not want to very much.  I have my private reasons for not getting into Lucie’s way.  Besides, why should I?  I am sure that we all are working for the same purpose, but perhaps from different standpoints.  On the other hand, it astonishes me exceedingly, that Lucie....

(two lines scratched out)

and he arranged for my protection and undisturbed life here,—­so seemingly everything is in perfect accordance.  You never answer my letters, but couldn’t you manage to acknowledge them?  Please do it.

Yours,

Alex.  Syv.”

35

“I have been here so long!...  Isn’t it funny, Alex, how the time has passed?”

The night was a windy one as though Winter knew it was its last chance to freeze people to death before Spring would come; the long night seemed slow in coming.  All day we had worked very hard in the barn preparing a big load which Lucie had asked me to take to the Letts.  After dinner, we had kippered herring and some meat stew a l’Irlandaise, we were sitting near the open oven.  “Lent bells!  I wonder who is praying?...”