Three guests arrived, besides Otway, one of them the distinguished person whose name had impressed him; a grizzled gentleman, of bland brows, and the simplest, softest manner.
At table there was general conversation--the mode of civilised beings.
His mind in a whirl at first, Otway presently found himself quite capable of taking part in the talk.

Someone had told a story illustrative of superstition in English peasant folk, and Piers had only to draw upon his Russian experiences for pursuit of the subject.
He told how, in a time of great drought, he had known a corpse dug up from its grave by peasantry, and thrown into a muddy pond--a vigorous measure for the calling down of rain; also, how he had seen a priest submit to be dragged on his back across a turnip field, that thereby a great crop might be secured.

These things interested the great man, who sat opposite; he beamed upon Otway, and sought from him further information regarding Russia.

Piers saw that Irene had turned to him; he held himself in command, he spoke neither too much nor too little, and as the things he knew were worth knowing, his share in the talk made a very favourable impression.

In truth, these three years had intellectually much advanced him.