We wore all our furs, and the river was frozen." "Yes, and we walked on the ice." He paused for a moment, then asked: "Why are certain memories imperishable ?" He buried his face in his nervous hands and sighed: "Why, oh, why ?" "Our oasis," Anna said, to assist him in his memories, or perhaps because she shared in the intoxication of reviving them, "was the corner where the lindens and acacias were on your estate in the government of Kiev.

One whole side of the lawn was always strewn with flowers in summer and leaves in winter." "I can still see my father there," he said.

"He had a kind face.

He wore a great cloak of shaggy cloth, and a felt cap pulled down over his ears.

He had a large white beard, and his eyes watered a little from the cold." "Why," he wondered after a pause, "do I think of my father that way and no other way?
I do not know, but that is the way he will live in me.
That is the way he will not die.".