LIFE OF ELIE METCHNIKOFF 83 



He was still suffering from an inflammation of the eyes. 

 This man, whom I cannot picture to myself without a micro- 

 scope or a book, was, at that sad period of his life, reduced 

 to complete inactivity. We had always been struck with 

 his power of becoming absorbed in scientific reading, even 

 during meals ; it inconvenienced no one, for he heard at 

 the same time the conversation that was going on and even 

 took part in it from time to time. Now, the day after his 

 arrival, I came to call him to tea and found him seated in his 

 darkened room with scissors in his hands and the floor around 

 him littered with small pieces of paper . . . such was the 

 occupation to which he was reduced. 



He told me that, if I liked, he would come to live in Moscow 

 and devote his life and his work to our family. I refused 

 and told him why ; my refusal grieved him, but I was right. 

 Besides a feeling of generosity, his offer was actuated by a 

 desire for an immediate object in life. Soon after that, he 

 started for the Kalmuk steppes in order to undertake anthro- 

 pological researches. I was often haunted by the thought of 

 his sad figure in the midst of the steppes. 



The journey was difficult and fatiguing. Metch- 

 nikoff did not know the Kalmuk language and had to 

 depend on interpreters. From the very first he was 

 painfully impressed by the brutality of the Kussian 

 officials towards the natives. At every halt the 

 Kalmuks declared that they had no horses ; the 

 Cossack who convoyed Metchnikoff would then begin 

 to swear and to play with his " nagaika " or leather- 

 thonged whip, and the required horses appeared as 

 by magic. After a while Metchnikofi became used 

 to such scenes and looked upon them as a custom of 

 the country. He found it more difficult to put up 

 with the indescribable dirt, the smell of mutton fat 

 which impregnated the food, and the continual barking 

 of dogs during the night, details which destroyed the 

 charm and poetry of primitive life. In spite of these 



