then the players will come and act part of the nine-night tragedy, and
we will look through the lattice. Ah! father is smoking opium, that he
may be serene and in good spirits! Does it make your head ache? Ah!
that is because your are a mere outer barbarian. She is asleep, Ki-hi;
lay her on the sofa, and let her sleep. How ugly her pale hair is,
almost as bad as her big feet!"



CHAPTER IX. KAMSCHATKA.

Lucy had been disappointed at not having a drive with the reindeer,
and she had been telling Don how useful his relations were in other
places. Behold, she awoke in a wide plain, where, as far as her eye
could reach, there was nothing but snow. The few fir-trees that
stood in the distance were heavily laden; and Lucy herself,--where
was she? Going very fast? Yes, whisking over the snow with all
her might and main, and muffled up in cloaks and furs, as indeed
was necessary, for her breath froze upon the big muffler round her
throat, so that it seemed to become as hard as a stone wall; and by
her side was a little boy, muffled up quite as close, with a cap, or
rather hood, casing his whole head, his hands gloved in fur up to
the elbows, and long fur boots. He had an immense long whip in his
hand, and was flourishing it, and striking with it--at what? They
were an enormous way off from him, but they really were very big
dogs, rushing along like the wind, and bearing along with them--
what? Lucy's ambition--a sledge, a thing without wheels, but
gliding along most rapidly on the hard snow; flying, flying almost
fast enough to take away her breath, and leaving birds, foxes, and
any creature she saw for one instant, far behind. And--what was