"Peasants and serfs, I suppose?"
"Well, perhaps so--peasants and serfs, as you islanders suppose all our people to be."
"Nay, as you Russians deem them."
"We shall not dispute the matter, please," said he, coldly; and now, as I sat looking at him, a memory of his face and voice came over me.
"Count Volhonski!" I exclaimed, "have you quite forgotten me and the duel with the Prussian at Altona?"
He started and took his cigar from his mouth.
"The Hospodeen Hardinge!" said he, grasping my hand with honest warmth; "I must have been blind not to recognise you; but I never before saw you in your scarlet uniform."
"It is more purple than scarlet now, Count."
"Well, our own finery is not much to boast of, though we are in a city, and you are under canvas. But how does the atmosphere of Crim Tartary agree with you?" he asked, laughing.
"A little too much gunpowder in it, perhaps."