My eyes were full of tears as I thanked him: I was deeply touched by this proof of tender womanly attachment. But this was the only reason why I was sorry to leave Perm.
§10
On the second day of our journey, heavy rain began at dawn and went on all day without stopping, as it often does in wooded country; at two o’clock we came to a miserable village of natives. There was no post-house; the native Votyaks, who could neither read nor write, opened my passport and ascertained whether there were two seals or one, shouted out “All right!” and harnessed the fresh horses. A Russian post-master would have kept us twice as long. On getting near this village, I had proposed to my keeper that we should rest there two hours: I wished to get dry and warm and have something to eat. But when I entered the smoky, stifling hut and found that no food was procurable, and that there was not even a public-house within five versts, I repented of my purpose and intended to go on.
While I was still hesitating, a soldier came in and brought me an invitation to drink a cup of tea from an officer on detachment.
“With all my heart. Where is your officer?”
“In a hut close by, Your Honour”—and the soldier made a left turn and disappeared. I followed him.
CHAPTER VII
Vyatka—The Office and Dinner-table of His Excellency—Tufáyev.