He said all this hurrying to the door to find his father.  We sat down and regarded each other in silence.  Jimmie and the consul looked into their hats with a somewhat sheepish countenance.  Bee cleared her throat with pleasure, and Mrs. Jimmie carefully assumed an attitude of unstudied grace, smoothing her silk dress over her knee with her gloved hand, and involuntarily looking at her glove the way we do in America.  Then the door opened and Count Tolstoy came in.

To begin with, he speaks perfect English, and his cordial welcome, beginning as he entered the door, continued while he traversed the length of the long room, holding out both hands to me, in one of which was my letter from the ambassador.  He examined our party with as much curiosity and interest as we studied him.  He wore the ordinary peasant’s costume.  His blue blouse and white under-garment, which showed around the neck, had brown stains on it which might be from either coffee or tobacco.  His eyes were set widely apart and were benignant and kind in expression.  His brow was benevolent, and counteracted the lower part of his face, which in itself would be pugnacious.  His nose was short, broad, and thick.  His jaw betrayed the determination of the bulldog.  The combination made an exceedingly interesting study.  His coarse clothes formed a curious contrast to the elegance of his speech and the grace of his manner.  He was simple, unaffected, gentle, and possessed, in common with all his race, the trait upon which I have remarked before, a keen, intelligent interest in America and Americans.

While he was still welcoming us and apologising for the behaviour of his servant, the countess came in, followed by the young countess, their daughter.  The Countess Tolstoy has one of the sweetest faces I ever saw, and, although she has had thirteen children, she looks as if she were not over forty-three years old.  Her smooth brown hair had not one silver thread, and its gloss might be envied by many a girl of eighteen.  Her eyes were brown, alert, and fun-loving, her manner quick, and her speech enthusiastic.  Her plain silk gown was well made, and its richness was in strange contrast to the peasant’s costume of her illustrious husband.

The little countess had short red brown hair parted on the side like a boy’s and softly waving about her face, red brown eyes, and a skin so delicate that little freckles showed against its clearness.  Her modest, quiet manner gave her at once an air of breeding.  Her manner was older and more subdued than that of her mother, from whom the cares and anxieties of her large family and varied interests had evidently rolled softly and easily, leaving no trace behind.

All three of them began questioning us about our plans, our homes, our families, wondering at the ease with which we took long journeys, envying our leisure to enjoy ourselves, and constantly interrupting themselves with true expressions of welcome.