MY INTERPRETER RETURNS. 221 



and go back home. More than two thirds of our jour- 

 ney were accomplished ; twelve or fourteen days' ride 

 would bring us to Sevastopol, but Sascha was thor- 

 oughly demoralized. 



"I am like Hamlet," said he, as he lay on his back 

 in the stable, mentally balancing the ignominy of a 

 retreat, and the hard experiences of the road to suc- 

 cess. " I am like Hamlet ; I don't know what to do." 

 He at length decided to return. 



I had been so well satisfied with his intelligence and 

 readiness to give information that it was no more than 

 just to treat him very liberally in the matter of funds, 

 so that he might enjoy himself for a time in Moscow 

 by way of compensation for the discomforts he had 

 experienced on the ride. In some respects, however, 

 I was not sorry at the prospect of finishing the trip 

 without him. He was possessed of many traits that 

 were endurable enough and even valuable, so long as 

 I was interested in them as an exposition of the Rus- 

 sian character; such as a curious sort of suspicion as 

 to the motives of well-nigh everything I said or did 

 from day to day, and an equally Russian shortcom- 

 ing in the matter of reliability ; but which had become 

 by this time very annoying. His virtues, however, it 

 is but fair to say, outweighed his faults, and the latter 

 were such as seem to be inherent in well-nigh every 

 Russian. 



Though riding on horseback day after day had 

 turned out to be more of a fatiguing task than a picnic, 

 and his native country had been a revelation to him in 

 the matter of heat and dreariness, the ride had never- 

 theless been profitable in many ways, he said, during 



