66 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



death. About ca score of great sledge dogs bounded to 

 meet us as we entered the wooden house, much to the 

 dismay of poor Jest. The porch opened into an outer 

 storeroom, and on the left hand was the house door. 

 We passed through it into the long low kitchen, and 

 thence into the parlour, which was filled with the cheer- 

 ful din of a gramophone. 



The room seemed wonderfully warm and cheerful 

 after the snowy waste outside, although it was small 

 and contained little furniture except a table apiece for 

 the gramophone and samovar, and a few chairs. In 

 the far corner hung an elaborate ikon, surrounded by a 

 wreath of wax flowers, and a sewing-machine stood 

 on the window-sill. A sewing-machine and a gramo- 

 phone at Golchika ! We felt that we were not so much 

 beyond civilisation as we had thought. 



Madame Antonoff was preparing the samovar. She 

 was a plump, sweet-faced woman, some years younger 

 than her husband. With her were her two sisters, 

 Nura and Tania, girls of fourteen and fifteen years old. 



After tea she explained that there was an empty 

 room which would be at our disposal, and took us out 

 to look at it. As we passed through the kitchen we 

 saw the big curly-haired man, who sat on a stool in the 

 corner, while his wet clothes dripped into a pool on the 

 floor. He looked so patient and humble that we were 

 surprised to learn that he was not a hired servant, but 

 the eldest son of Prokopchuk — Joseph Gerasimvitch. 



We passed through the storeroom to the back of the 

 house, and by a low door we entered the bakery, 

 which was almost filled up by a big brick oven. Along 



