they may be sent on a campaign or may fall in love with actresses.  War and actresses are, in fact, the two bug-bears of her existence, and whenever she has a disquieting dream she asks the priest to offer up a moleben for the safety of her absent ones.  Sometimes she ventures to express her anxiety to her husband, and recommends him to write to them; but he considers writing a letter a very serious bit of work, and always replies evasively, “Well, well, we must think about it.”

During the Crimean War Ivan Ivan’itch half awoke from his habitual lethargy, and read occasionally the meagre official reports published by the Government.  He was a little surprised that no great victories were reported, and that the army did not at once advance on Constantinople.  As to causes he never speculated.  Some of his neighbours told him that the army was disorganised, and the whole system of Nicholas had been proved to be utterly worthless.  That might all be very true, but he did not understand military and political matters.  No doubt it would all come right in the end.  All did come right, after a fashion, and he again gave up reading newspapers; but ere long he was startled by reports much more alarming than any rumours of war.  People began to talk about the peasant question, and to say openly that the serfs must soon be emancipated.  For once in his life Ivan Ivan’itch asked explanations.  Finding one of his neighbours, who had always been a respectable, sensible man, and a severe disciplinarian, talking in this way, he took him aside and asked what it all meant.  The neighbour explained that the old order of things had shown itself bankrupt and was doomed, that a new epoch was opening, that everything was to be reformed, and that the Emperor, in accordance with a secret clause of the Treaty with the Allies, was about to grant a Constitution!  Ivan Ivan’itch listened for a little in silence, and then, with a gesture of impatience, interrupted the speaker:  “Polno duratchitsya! enough of fun and tomfoolery.  Vassili Petrovitch, tell me seriously what you mean.”

When Vassili Petrovitch vowed that he spoke in all seriousness, his friend gazed at him with a look of intense compassion, and remarked, as he turned away, “So you, too, have gone out of your mind!”

The utterances of Vassili Petrovitch, which his lethargic, sober-minded friend regarded as indicating temporary insanity in the speaker, represented fairly the mental condition of very many Russian nobles at that time, and were not without a certain foundation.  The idea about a secret clause in the Treaty of Paris was purely imaginary, but it was quite true that the country was entering on an epoch of great reforms, among which the Emancipation question occupied the chief place.  Of this even the sceptical Ivan Ivan’itch was soon convinced.  The Emperor formally declared to the Noblesse of the province of Moscow that the actual state of things could not continue forever, and called on the landed proprietors to consider by what means the condition of their serfs might be ameliorated.  Provincial committees were formed for the purpose of preparing definite projects, and gradually it became apparent that the emancipation of the serfs was really at hand.