Across one corner of the dining-room was built a low platform, on which stood a piano.  We soon discovered its use.  Coming in about nine o’clock in the evening, we ordered our samovar for tea in the dining-room,—­ a most unusual place.  The proper place was our own room.  But we had found a peculiar code of etiquette prevailing here, governed by excessive modesty and propriety, no doubt, but an obstructionist etiquette, nevertheless.  The hall-waiter, whose business it is to serve the samovar and coffee, was not allowed to enter our room, though his fellows had served us throughout the country, after the fashion of the land.  Here we were compelled to wait upon the leisure of the chambermaid, a busy and capricious person, who would certainly not be on hand in the evening if she was not in the morning.  Accordingly, we ordered our tea in the dining-room, as I have said.  Presently, a chorus of girls, dressed all alike, mounted the platform, and sang three songs to an accompaniment banged upon the piano by a man.  Being violently applauded by a long table-full of young merchants who sat near, at whom they had been singing and staring, without any attempt at disguise, and with whom they had even been exchanging remarks, they sang two songs more.  They were followed by another set of girls, also in a sort of uniform costume, who sang five songs at the young merchants.  It appeared that one party was called “Russian singers,” and the other “German singers.”  We found out afterwards, by watching operations on another evening, that these five songs formed the extent of their respective repertories.

A woman about forty-five years of age accompanied them into the room, then planted herself with her back against the wall near us, which was as far away from her charges as space permitted.  She was the “sheep-dog,” and we soon saw that, while discreetly oblivious of the smiles, glances, and behavior of her lambs,—­as all well-trained society sheep-dogs are,—­she kept darting sharp looks at us as though we were doing something quite out of the way and improper.  By that time we had begun to suspect, for various reasons, that the Nizhni Fair is intended for men, not for—­ladies.  But we were determined quietly to convince ourselves of the state of affairs, so we stood our ground, dallied with our tea, drank an enormous quantity of it, and kept our eyes diligently in the direction where those of the sheep-dog should have been, but never were.

Their very bad singing over, the lambs disappeared to the adjoining veranda.  The young merchants slipped out, one by one.  The waiters began to carry great dishes of peaches, and other dainty fruits,—­all worth their weight in gold in Russia, and especially at Nizhni,—­together with bottles of champagne, out to the veranda.  When we were satisfied, we went to bed, but not to sleep.  The peaches kept that party on the veranda and in the rooms below exhilarated until nearly daylight.  I suppose the duenna did her duty and sat out the revel in the distant security of the dining-room.  Several of her charges added a number of points to our store of information the next day, at the noon breakfast hour, when the duenna was not present.