"
"Air! Spring! Are you in love, young man?"
Then he grew sad and silent for a while. "No, I can't see any pleasure
in Spring." He became sunk in his thoughts, and looked away.
I love Winter just because it dies every year, and gives place to a
new life! And again the thin birches become green and chastely white.
And I know _my birch_ is somewhere--looking for me.
Tobolsk! Pretty town--I must admit. The high bank with green slopes
is covered with churches, white buildings and gleaming gold crosses.
Something tranquil about Tobolsk! Blue, red and green roofs look shy
from their cozy nests of trees. It must be very exciting to live here
when all is normal. Good God! I see from the deck the fine foggish
veil of dust and gossips hanging over the town. They must still play
"preference" here, or "vint." In these little "centers" bridge must be
unknown.
I took a room in a hotel and went to the Kornilov house. It was
about four. I heard the noise of forks and knives, dinner time is so
impossibly early in these longitudes. A man answered my ring and said
I should wait outside and never ring the front door bell. He explained
where the kitchen entrance was. The man, even in explaining these
disagreeable things, was polite: by profession, for I immediately
saw he was a former Chamber-lackey, though he had a moustache and was
looking meager. "Wait on the street, service-man," he said, "I cannot
let you in.
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