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No. 5 contained a woman, disfigured by a disease shockingly
common among the peasants, and two sickly and
forlorn-looking children.
No. 6 sheltered three families, one cow, one horse, and two
sheep, all huddled together to protect themselves from the
intense cold. It was a strange sight to see the fine-looking
dyaduslika, or grandfather, with snow-white hair and beard,
climb out of the crib to which the horse was tied, come
tottering up to me on his aged limbs, and salute with a deep
bow. I told him that friends of the mushiks, in foreign lands,
had sent me with help to their suffering brothers in Russia.
In a feeble and trembling voice he said, “What good people!
May God bless you!”
On my return to the school I found it changed into an
eating-room, filled with about forty persons, young and old,
who sat down to eat, after crossing themselves and saying
their prayers. The dinner, consisting of black rye bread and
pea soup, tasted very good. When the Countess had arranged
for the opening of an eating-room for little children we
started to return home.
“What is your impression from your first village visit?”
asked the Countess.
“Terrible,” was all I could say. "Are you not afraid of
catching small-pox and typhus?”
“Afraid! It is immoral to be afraid. Are you afraid?” she
replied.
“No, I have never been afraid of infection while visiting
the poor,” I said. “It is terrible to see such hopeless misery.
It makes me sick only to think of it.”
“And is it not shameful for us to allow ourselves so much
luxury while our brothers and sisters are perishing from want
and nameless misery?” she added.
“But you have sacrificed all the comforts and luxuries of
your rank and position, and stepped down to the poor to help
them,” I rejoined.
“Yes,” she said, “but look at our warm clothes and all
other comforts, which are unknown to our suffering brothers
and sisters.”
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