I asked her, 'Who art thou?' and she replied: 'I am thy Death.' I might well have been frightened, but instead of that a great joy came over me, and I made the sign of the cross. And, to me, that Death of mine said: 'I pity thee, Loukeria, but I cannot take thee with me. Farewell!' Ah me! how sad did I become!

"'Take me away,' I cried: 'take me with thee, mother dear!' Then my Death turned back to me, and began to speak to me. I knew that she was telling me of my appointed time, but obscurely, in words hard to understand.

"'After St. Peter's Fast,' she said.

"And then I awoke. Such are the wondrous dreams I have dreamt."

Loukeria looked upward and remained musing for a time.

"The only thing that troubles me is this. Sometimes a whole week goes by without my having a moment's sleep. Last year, a lady who passed by here came to see me, and she gave me a bottle of some remedy for sleeplessness; ten drops at a time, she told me to take of it. It did me a deal of good, and I was able to sleep. Only the bottle has long ago been emptied. Do you know what medicine that was, and how it is to be got?"

The lady had evidently given her laudanum. I promised to get her another bottle of the same kind, and then I could not help once more expressing my astonishment at her patience.

"Ah, Barin!" she exclaimed; "what are you talking about? What sort of patience is that of mine? Now Simeon Stylites exhibited really great patience. For thirty whole years did he stand on the top of a pillar! And there was another saint who had himself buried breast-high in the ground, and the ants came and devoured his face. Moreover, a person who had a deal of book-learning used to tell me this: There was a certain land, and the Agarians conquered that land, and tormented and slew the inhabitants thereof. And however much those inhabitants tried, they could by no means get themselves free. Then there appeared among that people a holy virgin, and she took a great sword, and she put on a weighty breastplate, and she went against those Agarians, and drove them all across the sea. And as soon as she had chased them away, she said to them: 'Now consume me with fire, because my promise was that I would die by a fiery death in behalf of my people.' And the Agarians took her and consumed her with fire, and from that time forth that people has been free. That was really a noble deed! But I -- what have I done?"

I silently marveled a little as to whence, and under what aspect, the story of Joan of Arc had made its way hither. Then I asked Loukeria how old she was?

"Twenty-eight, or, perhaps, twenty-nine. At all events, not thirty. But why should I count my years? I will tell you something more --"

All of a sudden, Loukeria coughed huskily, and uttered a kind of groan.

"You have talked a good deal," I said, "it may do you harm."

"That's true," she replied, in an almost inaudible whisper. "Our talk has come to an end. But, never mind. When you are gone, I shall be silent enough. At all events, I have had a little solace."

I rose to take leave, repeated my promise to send her the medicine, and begged her once more to think over the matter, and let me know if there was anything she wanted.