to some peculiar smile on her face, or to the domestic idea which the act suggested, seemed certainly very much struck, and next day formally proposed.  Maria laughed, and tossed her head, and spoke a few good-natured words; and then, without either accepting or rejecting him, hinted something about his youth, his want of devotion to business, and his want of fortune.  Ivan, a little warmly, declared himself to be the best hunter in Yakoutsk, and hence the most practically-experienced of any in the trade, and then gave the sum-total of his possessions.

“Just one quarter of what good old Vorotinska left me!” replied the prudent Maria.

“But if I liked,” replied Ivan, “I could be the richest merchant in Siberia.”

“How?” asked Maria a little curiously, for the mere mention of wealth was to her like powder to the war-horse.

“Being almost the only Russian who has lived among the Yakoutas, I know the secret of getting furs cheaper and easier than any one else.  Beside, if I chose to take a long journey, I could find ivory in vast heaps.  A tradition is current of an ivory mine in the north, which an old Yakouta told me to be truth.”

“Very likely,” said Maria, to whom the existence of the fossil ivory of the mammoth in large masses was well known; “but the promich lenicks—­trading companies—­have long since stripped them.”

“Not this,” cried Ivan; “it is a virgin mine.  It is away, away in the Frozen Sea, and requires courage and enduring energy to find.  Two Yakoutas once discovered it.  One was killed by the natives; the other escaped, and is now an old man.”

“If you could find that,” said Maria, “you would be the first man in Siberia, and the Czar himself would honor you.”

“And you?” asked Ivan humbly.

“Ivan Ivanovitch,” replied Maria calmly, “I like you better than any man in Yakoutsk, but I should adore the great ivory merchant.”

Ivan was delighted.  He was a little puzzled by the character of the lady, who, after marrying an old man for his fortune, seemed equally desirous of reconciling her interest and her affections in a second marriage.  But very nice ideas are not those of the half-civilized, for we owe every refinement both of mind and body to civilization, which makes of the raw material man—­full of undeveloped elements—­what cooking makes of the potato root.  Civilization is the hot water and fire which carry off the crudities, and bring forth the good qualities.

However this maybe, Ivan nursed his idea.  Apart from the sudden passion which had invaded him, he had long allowed this fancy to ferment in his brain.  During his wandering evenings, a noted hunter named Sakalar, claiming descent from the supposed Tartar founder of the Yakoutas, had often narrated his perilous journey on sledges across the Frozen Sea, his discovery of an ivory mine—­that is, a vast deposit of mammoths’ tusks, generally found at considerable depth in the earth, but here open to the grasp of all.  He spoke of the thing as a folly of his youth, which had cost the life of his dearest friend, and never hinted at a renewed visit.  But Ivan was resolved to undertake the perilous adventure, and even to have Sakalar for his guide.