On the right, the sun was slowly sinking behind the ancient trees of the Kuntsevo park — one half of its brilliant disc obscured with grey, subluminous cloud, and the other half sending forth spokes of flaming light which threw the old trees into striking relief as they stood there with their dense crowns of green showing against a blue patch of sky. The light and shimmer of that patch contrasted sharply with the heavy pink cloud which lay massed above a young birch-tree visible on the horizon before us, while, a little further to the right, the parti-coloured roofs of the Kuntsevo mansion could be seen projecting above a belt of trees and undergrowth — one side of them reflecting the glittering rays of the sun, and the other side harmonising with the more louring portion of the heavens.

Below us, and to the