attended him also. He assured him that the young man was in perfect health, and that he had, even when he visited him, a suspicion of his wicked intentions, but had observed silence for fear of his chastisement. Whether what the German said was true, or whether he only wished to make a boast of his foresight, he did not minister any consolation to the poor sufferer. Scarcely had he recovered from his illness than the station-master at once applied to the post-master at S * * * for two months' leave of absence, and without saying a word respecting his intentions, set out on foot, in search of his daughter. He knew by his papers, that the Cavalry Captain Minsky was going from Smolensk to St. Petersburgh. The man who had driven him had said, that though she appeared to go willingly, Dounia had cried the whole way. "It is just possible," thought the station-master, "that I may bring home my little lost sheep." He arrived at St. Petersburg with this idea, and stopping at the Ismailoffsky Barracks put up at the quarters of a retired sub-officer, an old comrade: and commenced his search. He soon learnt that Minsky was at St. Petersburg, staying at Demouth's Inn. The station-master decided upon going to him.
He appeared at his door early the following morning, and asked to be announced as an old soldier who wished to see his excellency. The military servant, who was cleaning a boot on a last, declared that his master was asleep, and that he saw no one before eleven o'clock. The station-master went away and returned at the appointed hour. Minsky himself came to him, in his
