The precise nature of Ivan’s occupations during these wanderings I could not ascertain; for, with all his openness of manner, he was extremely reticent regarding his commercial affairs.  To all my inquiries on this topic he was wont to reply vaguely, “Lesnoe dyelo”—­that is to say, “Timber business”; and from this I concluded that his chief occupation had been that of a timber merchant.  Indeed, when I knew him, though he was no longer a regular trader, he was always ready to buy any bit of forest that could be bought in the vicinity for a reasonable price.

During all this nomadic period of his life Ivan had never entirely severed his connection with his native village or with agricultural life.  When about the age of twenty he had spent several months at home, taking part in the field labour, and had married a wife—­a strong, healthy young woman, who had been selected for him by his mother, and strongly recommended to him on account of her good character and her physical strength.  In the opinion of Ivan’s mother, beauty was a kind of luxury which only nobles and rich merchants could afford, and ordinary comeliness was a very secondary consideration—­so secondary as to be left almost entirely out of sight.  This was likewise the opinion of Ivan’s wife.  She had never been comely herself, she used to say, but she had been a good wife to her husband.  He had never complained about her want of good looks, and had never gone after those who were considered good-looking.  In expressing this opinion she always first bent forward, then drew herself up to her full length, and finally gave a little jerky nod sideways, so as to clench the statement.  Then Ivan’s bright eye would twinkle more brightly than usual, and he would ask her how she knew that—­reminding her that he was not always at home.  This was Ivan’s stereotyped mode of teasing his wife, and every time he employed it he was called an “old scarecrow,” or something of the kind.

Perhaps, however, Ivan’s jocular remark had more significance in it than his wife cared to admit, for during the first years of their married life they had seen very little of each other.  A few days after the marriage, when according to our notions the honeymoon should be at its height, Ivan had gone to Moscow for several months, leaving his young bride to the care of his father and mother.  The young bride did not consider this an extraordinary hardship, for many of her companions had been treated in the same way, and according to public opinion in that part of the country there was nothing abnormal in the proceeding.  Indeed, it may be said in general that there is very little romance or sentimentality about Russian peasant marriages.  In this as in other respects the Russian peasantry are, as a class, extremely practical and matter-of-fact in their conceptions and habits, and are not at all prone to indulge in sublime, ethereal sentiments of any kind.  They have little or nothing of what may be termed the Hermann