Ah, God! Forget?
I can never forget! These plains!" He tore aside the quilt from the window and stooping looked out upon the prairie.

"These plains say Russia! This gleaming snow, Russia! Ah! Ah! Ah! I cannot forget, while I live, my people, my fatherland.

I have suffered too much to forget.

God forget me, if I forget!" He fell on his knees before the window, dry sobs shaking his powerful frame.

He rose and began again to stride up and down, his hands locked before him.