UC-NRLF 
 
on ITT IP 
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 _ARKOP. 
 
 The Russian Violinist. 
 
 EY HENRY* (JREVILLE 
 
 
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IM: -A.IR, IK o 
 
 THE RUSSIAN VIOLINIST. 
 
 BY kENRY GREVILLE. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SAVELI'S EXPIATION," " I'lIILOMENE'S MARRIAGES," 
 
 "DOURNOF," "A FRIEND," "MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER," 
 
 "DOSIA," "PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA," "SONIA," 
 
 "BONNE-MARIE," " GABRIELLH," ETC., ETC. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 BY MISS HELEN STANLEY. 
 
 One of the literary editors of the "Boston Globe'' ivho read the translator's manu- 
 s rift as well as the proof-sheets of " Alarkof," for Madame Grfville, says: "It 
 shows a power that will place the author in the first rank of n<n>el writers in our 
 country as well as her a:u>t. It is a musical novel, and an art study, and the meta- 
 physical vein in which she now writes displays her genius at its best, and this, her 
 iieiv book, will afford delight to the most cultivated tuiitds. The character-drawing 
 is marvdlous in breadth and analysation, and gives proof of rare artistic skill, 
 11 hile the most delicious fancies, expressed in graceful, poetical and vigorous lan- 
 t-nder the author's style incomparably chat wing. ' Markof also show's an 
 uiiusual degree of dramatic talent, and we Jed assured will be considered the I i'.\t 
 book the author has vrr written, giving promise that her fame will be unequalled, 
 since, it is a revelation of a varied and inexhaustible capacity whi\h astonishes as well 
 as delights the reader. The English version retains the strong, clear style af the 
 J-rcnch with commendable fidelity . There art a f*W letter* in t'lz novei which, ate 
 unique, and their style is admirably preserved in the translation." 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
COrYIlIGHT: 
 T. IB. IFETIEIELSOItT &s 
 1879. 
 
 HENRY GREVILLE'S CELEBRATED NOVELS. 
 
 Mark of. the Russian Violinist. By Henry Greville, author of "Saveli's 
 
 Expiation," "Dosia," etc. Translated in Paris, by Miss Helen Stanley. 
 
 "MARKOF" is an art study, full of beautiful prose and true poetry, and such as could 
 
 be written only by an artist and genius. It will introduce Henry Greville's claims of 
 
 superiority over other novelists, to every one who reads for criticism or pleasure, and will 
 
 at once establish them, for no French authoress of to-day equals her in power and interest. 
 
 I>osia. A Russian Story. By Henry Grevillr., author of "Bonne-Marie," "Saveli's 
 
 Expiation," " Philomene's Marriages," "Marrying Off a Daughter," "Souia," etc. 
 " DostA " has been crowned by the French Academy as the Prize Novel of the year- 
 It is a charming story of Kussian society, is written with a rare grace of style, is brilliant, 
 pleasing and attractive. " DOSIA " is an exquisite creation, and is pure and fresh as a rose. 
 
 ]>onrnor. A Russian Story. By Henry Grevill?, author of "Saveli's Expiation," 
 
 " Dosia," " Markof," " Bonne-Marie," etc. Translated by Marie Stewart. 
 "DOURNOF" was written in Russia during Madame Greville's residence in St. Peters- 
 burg, and is a charming and graphic story of Russian life, containing careful studies of 
 Russian character, and character drawing, which are most admirable. 
 
 Marrying- Off a Daughter. By Henry Grtville, author of " Dosia," "Savgli's 
 
 Expiation," " Gabrielle," " A Friend," etc. Translated by Mary Neal Sherwood. 
 " MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER " is gay, sparkling, and pervaded by a delicious touo of 
 quiet humor, and will be read and enjoyed by thousands of readers. 
 
 Bonne-Marie. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. By Henry Greville, author of 
 " Dosia," " Saveli's Expiation," " Sonia," etc. Translated by Mary Real Sherwood. 
 "BONNE-MARIE" is a charming story, the scenes of which are laid in Normandy and 
 in Paris. It will no doubt create a sensation, such is its freshness, beauty, and delicacy. 
 
 Save'li's Expiation. By Henry Greville, author of "Markof." A dramatic and 
 
 powerful novel, and a pure love story. Translated by Mary Real SJierwood. 
 " SAVELI'S EXPIATION " is one of the most dramatic and most powerful novels ever pub- 
 lished, while a pathetic love story, running all through its pages, is presented for relief. 
 
 Pretty Little Conntess Ziiia. By Henry Grfi-ille, author of "Dosia," 
 
 " Saveli's Expiation," "A Friend," etc. Translated by Mary Real Slierwood. 
 Zina, the Countess, bears a certain resemblance to Dosia that bewitching creature in 
 her dainty wilfulness, while the ward and cousin, Vassalissa, is an entire new creation. ( 
 
 Sonia. A Russian Story. By H>-nry Grtville, author of "Saveli's Expiation," 
 
 " Marrying Off a Daughter," " Gabrielle," etc. Translated by Mary Neal Shenuood. 
 " SONIA" is charming and refined, and is a powerful, graceful, domestic story, being 
 most beautifully told giving one a very distinct idea of every-day home life in Russia. 
 
 Philomene's Marriages. From the French of "Les Mariages de Philomene." 
 
 By Henry Greville, author of " Dosia," " Saveli's Expiation," " Gabrielle," etc. 
 The American edition of "PHILOMENE'S MARRIAGES," contains a Preface written by 
 Henry Greville, addressed to her American Readers, which is not in the French edition. 
 
 Ciabrielle; or, The House or Manreze. By Henry Greville, author of, 
 
 " Markof," " Dosia," " Saveli's Expiation," " Bonne-Marie," etc. 
 
 "GABRIELLE; OR, THE HOUSE OF MAUREZE," is a very thrilling and touching story, 
 most skilfully told, and follows the life of the girl whose title it bears. 
 
 A Friend; or, L'Ami. A Story of Every-Day Life. By Henry Greville, author 
 
 of "Sonia," and " Saveli's Expiation." Translated in Paris by Miss Helen Stanley. 
 This tender and touching picture of French home-life will touch many hearts, as it shows 
 how the love of a true and good woman will meet with its reward and triumph at last. 
 
 QJL^ JU , Vujuu4<ct| c C-fiuv 
 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter Pa"o 
 
 I. MISFORTUNE 21 
 
 n. FATHER KOUZMA'S SERMON ;;j 
 
 III. THE FUTURE CHANGED 35 
 
 IV. THE STORM 41 
 
 V. AT THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 53 
 
 VI. THE CHERRY-TREES 64 
 
 VII. THE ARCHIMANDRITE ARSENE 71 
 
 VIII. CLASSICAL MUSIC 88 
 
 IX. A PROTECTOR FOR DEMIANE 95 
 
 X. A CALLING 100 
 
 XI. A RUNAWAY 107 
 
 XII. THE MONASTERY 1 1 'I 
 
 XIII. A FRESCO 
 
 XIV. FURNISHED APARTMENTS 131 
 
 XV. PETIT-GRIS 11- 
 
 XVI. VICTOR CHOOSES A PROFESSION \'>\ 
 
 XVII. GOING INTO THE WORLD 1 ' - 
 
 xvni. MARKOF'S VISION 178 
 
 XIX. ADMITTED TO THE CONSERVATOIRE 179 
 
 xx. PARACHA'S WEDDING 193 
 
 XXI. THE PRINCESS CLEOPATRE 
 
 XXII. A RUSSIAN VIOLIN 208 
 
 (19) 
 
 M512215 
 
20 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XXIII. A MESSAGE 223 
 
 XXIV. A WANDERING MOOD 228 
 
 XXV. JAROSLAV 234 
 
 xxvi. LITTLE HELENE'S MAMMA 241 
 
 XXVII. TEA AT LITTLE HELENE'S 247 
 
 XXVIII. THE BOUQUET 259 
 
 XXIX. MADAME LA GENERALE's PARTY 275 
 
 XXX. DRIVEN AWAY ! 282 
 
 XXXI. QUICK RESOLVES 287 
 
 XXXII. DESCENDING THE VOLGA 292 
 
 XXXIII. FARTHER STILL 305 
 
 xxxiv. ANDRE'S TRIBULATIONS . ,..,,..,..... 311 
 
 xxxv. CLEOPATRE'S PRINCIPLES 322 
 
 XXXVI. DEMIANE FINDS HIS MAGNET 330 
 
 XXXVII. THE FETISH 340 
 
 XXXVIII. DEMIANE AWAKES 346 
 
 XXXIX. VICTOR ANGRY 353 
 
 XL. LITTLE HELENE REVEALS HERSELF. . . . 359 
 
 XLI. CLEOPATRE'S PROTECTION 366 
 
 XLTI. A ROSE , , , 371 
 
 XLIII. DEMIANE IS TOO EXACTING 377 
 
 XLIV. INDEPENDENCE 383 
 
 XLV. ANDRE ASKS FOR HELP 390 
 
 XL VI. THE ROLES ARE CHANGED 396 
 
 XL vii. HELENE'S BOUQUET 408 
 
 XL VIII. INSULT AND SEPARATION 416 
 
 XLIX. HELENE REFUSES 430 
 
 LX. ANDRE STRUGGLES AGAINST VARIOUS 
 
 TROUBLES 441 
 
 LI. THE LITTLE WILD GIRL 452 
 
 LII. THE VICTORY OF HELENE . 460 
 
M A R K O F. 
 
 THE RUSSIAN VIOLINIST. 
 BY HENRY GREVILLE. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "BONNE MARIE," "PHILOMENE'S MARRIAGES," 
 DOSIA," "PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA," " SONIA," 
 "MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER," " A FRIEND; L'AMI," 
 "SAVELl'S EXPIATION," " GABRIELLE," ETC. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MISFORTUNE. 
 
 FATHER KOUZMA, seated before his desk of white 
 wood, that had grown yellow with years, and was 
 ornamented with numberless spots of ink of every pos- 
 sible size, was laboriously preparing a sermon for the 
 first Sunday in Lent. At that time, as at present, but 
 not more so than now-a-days, parish priests in Russia 
 were sparing of their sermons. Five or six times a 
 year at most, did they address their flocks: the latter 
 standing up with bowed heads, received this addition 
 to the divine service with about the same resignation 
 with which they would receive a shower on going out 
 
 (21) 
 
22 MARKOF. 
 
 of church. This duty accomplished on both sides, the 
 shepherd and the sheep are wont to separate in a 
 friendly manner, and with a real feeling of relief. 
 
 What do dogmas matter to those simple, deeply 
 credulous souls ? And on the other hand, what ability, 
 or what knowledge, of the human heart, is necessary 
 in order to be able to find the feeling words that can 
 reach the humble hearts of ones so rude, or that can 
 stir human beings, who are weary of life and worn 
 out with work, and who have become indifferent to 
 almost everything under the yoke of serfdom, and 
 who, moreover, are resigned in advance to all possible 
 calamities ? 
 
 Father Kouzma was not of those who could find such 
 utterances ; his life had been spent, not in struggling 
 against daily troubles, but in enduring them, as one 
 endures illness and death, sometimes with a dumb 
 discontent, often with a sullen resignation, and some- 
 times, but rarely, with a sort of inner mockery of spirit. 
 " For all thou hast been so hard," he was wont to say 
 to Fate ; " thou wilt never be so clever as myself, who 
 have found, in spite of promising beginnings, the means 
 wherewith to diminish my chances of happiness and to 
 lead a wretched existence." 
 
 Kouzma Markof had married, like all of his profes- 
 sion, a short time before receiving his last ordination, 
 the ecclesiastical rule requiring that a young man 
 should have laid aside the first cares and the new 
 emotions of marriage before he fully enters upon his 
 priesthood. He had married a sweet young girl, insig- 
 nificant both in appearance and mind, who possessed 
 
M A K K O F . 23 
 
 no energy either for good or evil. From this union 
 five children had been born, only three of whom had 
 survived. With the children, their cares and expenses 
 had increased ; the popadia was not very orderly ; little 
 by little, the corners of the furniture were knocked off, 
 the straw bottoms of the chairs gave way, the calico 
 curtains were full of long rents which the weary, worn 
 woman delayed darning. The home became dreary. 
 Father Kouzma from time to time took a little consola- 
 tion in the form of a glass of brandy, and his ideas did 
 not become clearer on account of it. His parishioners, 
 without despising him for a weakness which is nowhere 
 considered a crime, did not evince the same haste as 
 formerly, in bowing to him in the street, or in bringing 
 him their offerings, so that by degrees the cure of 
 Gradovka, which had formerly been considered one 
 of the best in the province, lost its splendor arid dwin- 
 dled into an unimportant position. 
 
 Father Kouzma knew this, and it was not without 
 cruel suffering to his pride that he had passed under 
 the Caudine Forks of this forfeiture, and it was because 
 he appreciated his abasement that he had given up 
 struggling with Fate. 
 
 "I have no luck," he would say, and it was true. 
 With an active, careful wife, who was full of courage, 
 the cure would have remained as it had been. But 
 with whom could he find fault? The popadia was as 
 God had made her ; she brought no element of trouble 
 into their existence; being resigned to all calamities, 
 she endured disorder as she did the rain or a fever. 
 She classed everything that annoyed her under one 
 
24 M A ft K O F . 
 
 head: everything was an unpleasantness "What can 
 I do about it?" she would add; "it is God's will!" 
 
 And, thanks to this fine argument, her children had 
 skirts full of holes, her husband greasy gowns, and her- 
 self frocks that were frayed at the bottom and worn 
 out at the top ; her servant maid did not obey her, the 
 meals were detestable, and everything went wrong, 
 except the making of the azyme bread on Saturday 
 night, which was intended for the next day's mass, and 
 which was always admirably successful. On this point 
 alone the popadia had retained her youthful pride. 
 
 Father Kouzma tried to write a sermon from some 
 old homilies which had formerly served his predecessor, 
 who had also been his father-in-law, for he had entered 
 into possession of the cure on account of his marriage 
 with the titulary's daughter. 
 
 Such affairs are generally easily arranged, demanding 
 only a superior's consent, which is very rarely wanting, 
 and only in grave circumstances when the priest has 
 no sons, or when the sons have chosen another profes- 
 sion, or yet again, when the children, which is not an 
 exceptional case, prefer to seek another nest. No one 
 is a prophet in his own country, and the peasants can 
 remember the youthful pranks of those who become 
 their pastors, and the sons of priests, who are priests 
 themselves, often try to marry girls who are endowed 
 with as fine a cure as possible. 
 
 Kouzma had no anxiety in regard to the future of his 
 cure with two sons, one of whom, no doubt, would be 
 touched by grace. Besides, the elder, who had been 
 prepared from his childhood to enter into holy orders, 
 
M A R K O F . !_! ") 
 
 ilroady took very nicely to Latin. He know the sa.-r.-d 
 texts perfectly, and promised to obtain some exceptional 
 eward at the Theological Seminary. He was a though t- 
 ul, serious youth, not without his share of juvenile 
 rayety, of course, but his reasonable mind promised to 
 ave him from many of the mortifications his lather had 
 tnown, 
 
 "If he only finds a good wife !" sighed his father, as 
 tie thought of his own, who was good assuredly, hut pft 
 ;ncapable of helping him. The old homilies did not 
 .nspiiv this pastor of a flock who was but little appre- 
 ciative of sacred eloquence, and he closed the copy 
 book yellow with age, held his head in his hands, and 
 began to dig into his poor weary brain. 
 
 The August wind beat against the window p 
 svith a little fine, fierce rain, that ceased from tin: 
 time, to begin again stronger; the dull, gray day 
 no indication of the hour it might be, though the sun 
 -till high in the horizon; but so many elonds hid 
 the poor sun that it would take at lea>t four or five 
 lays before it could pierce through them. Autumn 
 wits approaching; the yellow-grown leaves that fell 
 Prom the birch-trees, and that were driven again>t and 
 fastened to the window-panes by the strength of 
 rain, spoke of shortened days, of long, sad evcniir 
 muddy, impassable roads, of the three months 
 tion, which are so hard to endure, before the beautiful 
 dear nights, and the hard carpet of pure snow of 
 still distant winter should come. 
 
 Father Kouzma shivered. The melancholy of the 
 unusually early Autumn seemed to h into 
 
26 MARK OF. 
 
 the very marrow of his bones. He rose and opened a 
 door. 
 
 "Wife," said he, "it is dreary, prepare us some 
 tea." 
 
 The popadia was very fond of tea and its natural 
 accompaniments, small rolls and preserves. She ran to 
 the kitchen and ordered the maid to heat the samovar. 
 The latter eagerly obeyed. In the vast territory which 
 all the Russias comprise, no one is indifferent to tea. 
 * Comforted by the hope of an immediate diversion, 
 Father Kouzma returned to his study-table, and began 
 to turn over his books and copy-books more energet- 
 ically. 
 
 "About what shall I speak to them ? " he murmured. 
 "About detachment from the things of this world? 
 Poor people ! They have nothing to attach themselves 
 to, as have the lords ; but they are good lords, who 
 oestow as much charity as they can. They gave a 
 violin to my youngest boy last Christmas. It amuses 
 the little fellow, and he does not play badly for one who 
 has never been taught. ' The proofs of the existence 
 of God?' They do not need to have it proved to 
 them, they believe in Him enough without that. ' Of 
 resignation to the will of Providence ? ' Ah ! yes, 
 resignation, every one has need of that ! Resignation ! " 
 
 Father Kouzma sighed, he sighed as naturally as one 
 breathes; then he began attentively to read the text 
 which he had under his eyes. It was a very simple 
 homily; the old man who had written it had been 
 detached from every thing, and resignation had been all 
 the easier to him, because he possessed within himself a 
 
M A R K O F . 27 
 
 well conditioned foundation of egotism. One resigns 
 oneself easily to misfortunes, if they do not touch one's 
 life or fortune, when one has the happiness of loving 
 only oneself ! The old Priest's fortune had been a sure, 
 though small one, and his only unhappy blow had been 
 his death, about which he had not had time to be troubled, 
 having succumbed to an apoplectic stroke. He spoke 
 therefore about resignation with a calm assurance, as a 
 very simple, very natural thing, and seemed to find 
 those who did not make an absolute profession of it, 
 very reprehensible. 
 
 " It was easy for him ! " Father Kouzma murmured, 
 as he finished his reading. " Though our peasants are 
 resigned to their fate already, I believe they do not 
 accept their share of the misfortunes of this world so 
 easily. And as to regarding them as a blessing hum 
 the Lord, who chasteneth whom He loveth, I have 
 repeated that to myself for a long while, and I cannot 
 accept it. I am resigned, yes, but as to being grateful 
 but it is very wrong for me to think thus, I, who am 
 a priest ! " 
 
 He sighed again; but fortunately his wife's head 
 appeared through the half-opened door. 
 
 "Father Kouzma," said she, "the tea is ready, will 
 you come ? " 
 
 He rose and followed her into the dining-room. 
 Nothing particularly pleasing rested one's eyes in tins 
 room which was not of large size, and the sa// 
 itself, which in Russian households attracts the eye like 
 the cauldron in Tenier's pictures, was dull and badly 
 cleaned. This did not prevent the tea from being good, 
 
28 M A R K O F . 
 
 however, and the Priest drank a glass of it with evident 
 satisfaction. As his wife was pouring out some a second 
 time, he glanced around him. 
 
 " Where are the children ? " he said. 
 
 " Prascovie is ironing clothes in the kitchen, and the 
 boys have gone off to look after their snares in the 
 woods. Victor thinks they must have taken some 
 game." 
 
 " In this weather ? " 
 
 "Yes, the birds hide themselves under the leaves 
 when it rains." 
 
 Father Kouzma made no objection to this ; moreover 
 what did it matter to him ? His eldest boy Victor, was 
 enjoying his vacation : in ten days he would return to 
 the Theological Seminary, and then, farewell, to his 
 excursions in the woods, till the next year. Another 
 anxiety came to him then, an anxiety which he had 
 thought about again and again a hundred times ; what 
 would he do with his younger son, Demiane, whose 
 energetic and self-willed character sometimes gave him 
 much annoyance? Until then, he had shared the 
 studies and recreations of the lord's children, but 
 Monsieur Roussof's sons were going to enter the gym- 
 nasium in Moscow to begin their studies ; he had not 
 the means to send his son to the gymnasium ; what 
 should he do with the strange fellow ? 
 
 " He loves only music," Father Kouzma said to him- 
 self, " and music is not a calling, it leads to nothing ! 
 The violin they have given him, has made him more 
 fascinated with it than ever." 
 
 He drank the contents of his glass and held it 
 
MARKOF. 29 
 
 towards his wife to fill with tea a third time ; she took 
 it and was about filling it, when in the midst of the 
 operation she stopped, with her hand in the air, and the 
 spout of the tea-pot raised : 
 
 "What is that?" said she, leaning her head towards 
 the window. 
 
 A confused sound of steps and low exclamations 
 approached their dwelling. This sound was not that of 
 a tumult as it would not have failed to have been in any 
 western country : it was a sort of groan, a low-voiced 
 lamentation ; the footsteps even seemed as though they 
 wished to conceal themselves. This unusual noise 
 ceased a few metres from the house ; the crowd seemed 
 to be consulting together. At length the Deacon 
 stepped out from it and went alone to the small 
 flight of wooden steps that ornamented the Priest's 
 house. He was bare-headed, and an unwonted gravity 
 overshadowed his jovial face. 
 
 " What does he want with us ? " asked the Priest, a 
 little disquieted, he knew not wherefore. 
 
 Before he could go to meet the new-comer, the 
 latter appeared on the threshold. Without raising 
 his eyes, he made the sign of the cross three times, 
 and saluted the husband and wife, bowing his head to 
 his waist. 
 
 " God be with you ! " said he, in his rich bass voice, 
 that made the windows and the porcelain resound. 
 " The Lord chasteneth whom He loveth." 
 
 Father Kouzma tried to speak, but his tongue could 
 make no movement. He moved his right hand, as 
 though to question him. 
 
30 M A RKOF. 
 
 " A misfortune has befallen your house," the Deacon 
 continued, in a trembling voice ; " but Providence, in 
 wounding you, has still spared you " 
 
 " My sons ? " cried the distracted mother. 
 
 " Only one, and he still lives." 
 
 " Which one ? " asked Father Kouzma, while his 
 wife rushed out of doors. 
 
 " The eldest ; he fell from a tree, and must have hurt 
 himself very dangerously, for he has broken one of his 
 legs, and cannot stand at all on the other." 
 
 Father Kouzma fell back in his chair, and the text of 
 his sermon returned to his mind. 
 
 " Resignation to the will of Providence," said he. 
 "I blasphemed, and the punishment was not long in 
 coming! " 
 
 He remained motionless for a moment, with his 
 hands over his eyes, while great tears coursed down his 
 cheeks and fell on the large brass cross that trembled 
 upon his breast ; then he rose and went and prostrated 
 himself before the images which ornamented a corner 
 of the room. 
 
 " The Lord gave him to me," said he, aloud, after 
 a short prayer, "and if the Lord wishes to take him 
 from me, may His name be blessed ! " 
 
 But his resignation was only apparently real. At 
 that same moment his son entered, borne by two 
 robust peasants. The young man, who had fainted, 
 looked as if he were dead. His curly hair fell over his 
 closed eyes ; and his pale cheeks, and refined features 
 that were drawn by anguish, made his face look like a 
 waxen one. 
 
M A i: K o F. ;;i 
 
 The bearers passed silently into the childivn's mom, 
 fhere they laid Victor on his bed. In spite of tht-ir 
 Tecautions, that were so tender and so surprising (lli 
 he part of the rough men, pain drew him from his 
 i in ting fit, and he gave a heart-rending cry. 
 
 " He lives ! " cried his father ; and then suddenly 
 lecoming firm, he immediately sent a messenger to the 
 jrd's house, to request the master to come himself, for 
 ie was a physician, and would know how to save his 
 on. 
 
32 . M A R K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FATHER KOUZMA'S SERMON. 
 
 MONSIEUR ROUSSOF was a physician; not a 
 very distinguished one, though what he had 
 earned, added to his family patrimony, procured him 
 a very pleasant existence. He was able to give up 
 practice during the summer, thanks to the inveterate 
 habit of villegiatura, which forces Russians to go out of 
 town, where they find themselves very uncomfortable, 
 instead of remaining in the city where they are settled, 
 with a garden and all the comforts of existence. 
 
 That the summer must be spent somewhere else than 
 at one's home, is an established custom. Monsieur 
 Roussof did not protest against this arrangement, 
 which permitted him to give his wife and children a 
 breath of country air during four months of the year, 
 without causing him to lose any of the benefits of his 
 profession. 
 
 He soon arrived at Father Kouzma's house, and 
 proceeded to examine the wounded youth. When he 
 had set the broken leg, he passed his fingers gently 
 down the young man's spine. The father, who was 
 watching him, saw his face assume that grave expres- 
 sion which he had often seen by the side of many a 
 death-bed, and his own features contracted horribly. 
 
 " I think he will live," said the physician, raising his 
 head ; " but I fear he will be deformed." 
 
 " Deformed ! " repeated the Priest, raising his hands 
 
M A R K O F . 
 
 toward heaven, as if to implore its aid. u What : 
 matter with him '. ; '' 
 
 "There is some injury to the spine. Since he now 
 lives, in all probability he will survive; but he may 
 become a hunchback." 
 
 "A hunchback!" 
 
 " He will lose m height, at least. Keep him perf 
 quiet, will you not ? " 
 
 The Priest promised what the physician desired, >md 
 the latter left to send from his own house every tiling 
 that might comfort the invalid. 
 
 When Father Kouznia found himself alone by the bed 
 of suffering, he looked for a long time at his son who 
 was sleeping thanks to a narcotic that Roussot' had 
 given him. 
 
 Night had come. The fine rain still beat again-: 
 window-panes, and the most mournful sadne>s *\ 
 over the room, which was badly lighted by 
 candle and the smoky lamp before the Images. The 
 1'riest lit a taper before the child's patron -aint, then 
 returned to him. 
 
 Was it possible that that splendid figure, those deli- 
 cate and graceful limbs, would become ohjrc ; 
 ridicule. That his first-born would be a pitiable and 
 wretched being, deprived of the joys of life, when only 
 that morning he was happy in the possession <.f all the 
 powers of a healthy, vigorous man 7 
 
 u lle is young," said he to himself, "he is only nine- 
 teen; at that age, every thing may be hoped. KM; 
 is mistaken; it is not possible ! " 
 
 Sunday having come, when the divine service was 
 
 ^ 
 
34 M A R K O F . 
 
 over he moved forward to the edge of the balustrade 
 that separates the choir from what is properly called 
 the church, in order to deliver his sermon to the assem- 
 bled people ; he saw all their eyes fixed upon him with 
 an expression of expectation. These persons were 
 ready to listen respectfully to what he was about to 
 say to them, without hoping to derive great profit from 
 it, either for their bodies or their souls. 
 
 "My brothers," said Father Kouzma, casting a glance 
 over the assemblage, "I am going to speak to you 
 to-day about resignation to the will of Providence. 
 We are all born in anguish and sorrow, and none of us 
 know what God may have in reserve for us; it is well 
 therefore, to prepare ourselves beforehand, to suffer the 
 calamities which He may wish to send us, for trouble 
 coming upon us suddenly, overcomes us, and leaves us 
 without strength." 
 
 His voice trembled ; he tried to clear .it by coughing 
 twice, then he continued: 
 
 " God chasteneth whom He loveth, and we should 
 kiss with gratitude the hand that strikes. So should I 
 I, who lately had two sons in perfect health " 
 
 Speech forsook him suddenly; he tried in vain to 
 continue. Tears streamed from his eyes as he turned 
 quickly away to hide them from the people. 
 
 But the simple men all understood him and a mur- 
 mur of sympathy passed through their ranks. 
 
 "My brothers," said the Deacon, "let as pray for 
 those who suffer for the sick and the afflicted. 
 
 The crowd intoned at the same moment with the 
 choristers, the Parce Domine, and there was no more 
 thought of a sermon that dav. 
 
MARKOF. 35 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FUTURE CHANGED. 
 
 THE autumn came, then the winter. The long nights, 
 thick with snow, whose silence nothing disturbed, 
 passed one after the other over the bed where Victor 
 lay Victor, who had become as white as the fields 
 without, and as frail as the slender birch branches the 
 'wind waved before the window opposite. 
 
 The sole diversion of the poor being whose strength 
 and grace was thus destroyed, was in listening to the 
 sounds which his brother Demiane drew from his 
 small, hoarse violin, that however was always in tune. 
 Stretched out almost flat upon his back with his waxen- 
 like hands spread out on the coverlet, gazing vacantly 
 into the gray atmosphere of the sullen winter time, he 
 was entranced by the strange music of the unconscious 
 artist. While Demiane, who was frowning in the 
 earnestness of his work, was endeavoring with all his 
 soul to render the mystic sweetness of the church 
 h3 r mns, and with the audacity of those who know 
 nothing, was trying to find the thirds and fifths of 
 chords that he heard within himself without imagining 
 that it was a master stroke, and would begin again and 
 again, until he had acquired the softness he sought, 
 Victor dreamed of a thousand sweet things that were 
 lost to him. 
 
 The forest was in the spring-time season ; the lilies- 
 
36 M A R K O F . 
 
 of-the-valley grew by thousands in the yet short grass ; 
 the little plants in the form of a thyrsus, which smell 
 like orange blossoms and possess an incomparable 
 beauty, carpeted the hollows where roots of pine 
 trees had formerly grown; the greenfinches chattered, 
 the blackbirds whistled, and far, far away at the en- 
 trance of the wood, the cuckoo made its melancholy 
 call heard at regular intervals. It was good to jump 
 with one's feet close together into the mossy holes, and 
 to bury one's self up to one's knees in the last autumn's 
 leaves, then to bound up on the other side and run 
 into the glades, leaping over the small bushes and the 
 stumps of trees blown down by the winter tempests. 
 The sun descended slowly in the heavens, sometimes 
 they forgot to return home until suddenly a red ray 
 would shine over the great pine trees, far, far away, 
 half a mile distant, and passing ahead of our young 
 vagabonds, would shimmer on the white trunk of a 
 birch tree growing by chance in the midst of the pines. 
 
 "It is time to go home, De*miane, full time; we shall 
 be scolded ! " 
 
 And then they ran harder and faster and jumped 
 higher in the sunbeam, that shone in a straight line 
 towards the house, giving them the appearance of short- 
 ening the way, but in reality lengthening it a little, 
 and they would reach their home red, heated and out 
 of breath, but no one paid any attention to them, and 
 the supper seemed never so good ! 
 
 " More, Demiane, more ! " said Victor to his brother, 
 who had stopped to try his E string. 
 
 Demiane began again, and the dreams began with 
 
M A R K O F . 37 
 
 him. It was in autumn ; the leaves were already fall- 
 ing, like gold pieces scattered by a prodigal hand. 
 Those who had guns went shooting, but Father Kouz- 
 ma's sons had none. So they prepared nets, and decoy- 
 birds, and went to spread them early in the morning, 
 so that the birds would suspect nothing at night. It 
 was on a slender branch, slender but inflexible, where 
 Victor had placed his best net. From below it could 
 not be seen, owing to the leaves that grew thick in the 
 place. Then the young man ventured on the branch ; 
 it should have bent beneath his weight, but it did not ; 
 doubtless the wood was no longer full of sap. All at 
 once a frightful crash was heard and a painful moan, 
 and Victor, trembling from head to foot, found himself 
 again in his bed. 
 
 Turning very pale, he asked his brother, whose face 
 grew dark, " What has happened ? " 
 
 " I have broken my E string," Demiane answered, 
 sadly. "I shall be obliged to do without one until 
 Monsieur Roussof returns." 
 
 It was thus, that deprived of his E string, De*mi- 
 ane passed the winter, trying to replace it by ingenious 
 artifices, and with such strings as he had, and learned 
 to overcome difficulties which would have discouraged 
 him under a master's eye. 
 
 However, Victor did not soon rise. His fracture had 
 been healed for a long while, but an extraordinary 
 weakness prevented his sitting up for more than a few 
 minutes at a time. His features had changed their 
 form, his face became pointed, his eyes, which had 
 formerly been small and deep set, grew strangely large; 
 
38 MARKOF. 
 
 he was handsomer than he had been, but his beauty 
 was painful to behold. 
 
 At last the spring returned; the Roussof family 
 arrived a little earlier than usual, and the physician 
 went to the priest's house almost immediately on 
 leaving his carriage. 
 
 The window of the boys' room was open, and he 
 turned his head towards it and was surprised to meet 
 two black, melancholy eyes, that looked at him with an 
 expression of sad and patient waiting. 
 
 "I know these people," he said to himself, "and 
 yet" 
 
 He stepped forward, and Victor's voice, so weak that 
 it seemed to come from a spirit, wished him good- 
 morning. 
 
 " Ah ! my poor boy ! " said he, hastening to cross the 
 threshold. 
 
 He examined the young man, forced him to rise, and 
 to stand up ; the anxious father and mother asked 
 themselves why he tormented their sick child thus 
 when he passed his hand gently from Victor's neck 
 down to his waist. 
 
 The parents stifled a cry. 
 
 A slight protuberance showed itself under his thin 
 shirt, and was shadowed on the window. With a look, 
 Monsieur Roussof silenced the lamentations that were 
 ready to burst forth. With his eyes dilated, his face 
 covered with tears, De*miane looked at his brother with 
 an expression of tenderest pity. 
 
 "Never mind, Monsieur Roussof," said the young 
 invalid. "I am a hunchback, am I not? I have known 
 
M A R K O F . 39 
 
 it for a long while ! I have passed my hand so many 
 times down my back when I was alone ! And it hurt 
 me so much ! " 
 
 After the first outburst of grief was over, Father 
 Kouzma said to the physician : 
 
 " What shall we do ? If my poor son, whom may 
 God spare ! is deformed, he cannot give himself to the 
 Lord's service ! The Church only admits those of the 
 Sclavonic clergy who have no physical defect." 
 
 " Well," said Monsieur Roussof, " there is your suc- 
 cessor ! " 
 
 He pointed towards Ddnriane, who with his eyes still 
 filled with the same horror, the same pity, had not 
 stopped looking at his brother. 
 
 "You will be a priest in my place, w r ill you not, 
 Demiane ? " said Victor, in hts sweet and plaintive 
 voice. "You will be the one who will celebrate the 
 Divine Service, and carry in your hands the Holy of 
 Holies, passing under the imperial door that opens tin; 
 Tabernacle? I have often thought of that, brother, 
 and, do you know? I have almost not regretted my 
 accident, thinking that you are handsomer, stronger 
 and cleverer than I have ever been." 
 
 "Do you wish to be a priest?" asked Monsieur 
 Roussof, laying his hand, affectionately, on the young 
 man's curly hair. 
 
 " I do not know," the latter replied. " Could I play 
 on the violin ? " 
 
 At this question, which Father Kouzma's theology 
 had not foreseen, each looked at the other, a little sur- 
 prised and much troubled to find an answer. 
 
40 MAEKOF. 
 
 " Why not? " Monsieur Roussof said at last. " King 
 David certainly danced before the Ark, accompanying 
 himself on different musical instruments. And besides, 
 he had also charmed aAvay King Saul's wrath with his 
 harp. I do not see that holy orders should forbid one 
 the innocent pleasure of playing on a violin." 
 
 " I will be a priest, then," De*miane answered in a 
 submissive tone. 
 
 His father raised his right hand, and the young man 
 prostrated himself on his knees until his forehead 
 touched the ground ; the Priest gave him his benedic- 
 tion, while his eyes were wet with bitter tears, remem- 
 bering the day he had thus blessed his first-born. But 
 he had learned resignation since the sad autumn days. 
 The mother also blessed her son, then Victor made a 
 sign to his brother to approach him. 
 
 "They gave me at the Theological Seminary some 
 holy images to bring me happiness in my career ; here, 
 take them, they must belong to you." 
 
 He passed around his brother's neck a little silken 
 cord, that held several small medals and crosses, and 
 embraced him three times, then let himself fall back on 
 his pillows, with the happy and weary air of conva- 
 lescents. 
 
 " I am glad," said he, " very glad ! De*miane will be 
 the man of the family. I would never have been any- 
 thing but a stupid fellow." 
 
 And his kind, full eyes, that were spiritualized by 
 suffering, beamed on his brother in a blessing as tender, 
 tenderer than that of their mother. 
 
MARKOF. 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 " A RE you going to the Theological Seminary, then ? " 
 JLJL Benjamin Roussof asked De'miane, who was try- 
 ing to make a sort of rustic guitar out of white wood. 
 " Do you believe they will permit you to play music ? 
 Are you going to take your balalaika?" 
 
 The young boy contemplated the work of his cun- 
 ning hands, and then began to cut the wood with his 
 knife again. 
 
 " I do not know anything about it," said he ; " if I 
 cannot take it I will give it to you." 
 
 " Very well," said young Roussof, with an energetic 
 sign of his head. " I felt sure you would give it to me. 
 And your brother, has he one also ?" 
 
 " No. Victor is very fond of music when I play it, 
 but he does not know how to play himself." 
 
 " What does he do to amuse himself then ? " 
 
 " He listens to me." 
 
 Benjamin looked as though he thought that was not 
 sufficient. He would not have left a new balalaika 
 sleeping on its nail! Though he should have drawn 
 the most inharmonious sounds from it, he would have 
 persecuted it without mercy, taking, as far as the sounds 
 went, their quantity for their quality. He drew from 
 his pocket a small paper package, which he showed 
 mysteriously to his comrade. 
 
42 M A R K O F . 
 
 "Do you know what this is?" said he, with an 
 important air. 
 
 " No. It is very small." 
 
 "Guess!" 
 
 " Let me feel of it a little." He held out his two 
 fingers, broke the paper, and crimson with delight he 
 exclaimed, " Strings ! " 
 
 " Yes, strings, some new strings for your violin." 
 
 " I just broke my E string during Lent ! " said De*mi- 
 ane, still overcome with joy. " Oh ! well, if I can take 
 my balalaika with me, I will make another one for you 
 alone. How did you think of this ? " 
 
 " It was papa ; I asked him what I should bring you 
 as a present for this vacation. I am not rich, you know. 
 I could not spend more than thirty kopecks ; he told me 
 that violin strings would give you more pleasure than 
 anything in the world." 
 
 " Your father is good," Demiane said gravely. 
 
 He reflected for a moment, then he began to make 
 chips of wood with greater activity. 
 
 It was very hot. The middle of July almost always 
 brings thunderstorms, which the vulgar say is on 
 account of the chariot of the Prophet Elias rolling in 
 the heavens on the occasion of his feast-day, which 
 falls on the 18th of the month ; the air was heavy, and 
 if our young people did not perceive it, Victor, who 
 had hardly recovered from his terrible fall sufficiently 
 to hold himself up and walk with the aid of a stick, 
 felt wholly prostrated. Lying in the grass two steps 
 away from his comrades, under the protecting shelter of 
 an enormous birch tree that stood alone on the lawn of 
 
MARKOF. 43 
 
 the seigneurial garden, he seemed to be seeking coolness 
 even from the turf, and plunged his face into the thick 
 tufts of hardy grass. 
 
 u And you, Victor," continued Benjamin, who did 
 not know how to remain silent for a minute, "what 
 will you do while your brother is away ? " 
 
 " I will await his return," answered Victor, who was 
 always resigned. " He waited for me formerly when it 
 was I who went to the Theological Seminary." 
 
 "And Paracha? what does she say to this change?" 
 
 Prascovie Markof, thus familiarly called by the 
 diminutive of her name, was but little occupied \vith 
 what took place around her. She was a young girl, 
 nineteen years old, serious, positive, and absorbed in 
 calculations and hopes known only to herself, and who 
 had but one idea in the world: to marry as advanta- 
 geously as possible. Unfortunately, her father had no 
 dowry to give her, and girls without dowries are dilli- 
 cult to marry in all European latitudes, and even 
 in some others. 
 
 " Paracha says nothing at all ; it is all the same to 
 her. She sews on her chemises," Demiane answered. 
 
 Benjamin remained thoughtful. To make oneself 
 chemises seemed to him not a very lofty aim, but 
 perhaps he was not well informed as regards the 
 mysteries of a trousseau. He was not aware that. t> 
 sew the linen she would take to her husband's house, a 
 priest's daughter would willingly pass more than two- 
 thirds of her days at the occupation. 
 
 A tall young girl, about twenty years of age, crossed 
 the lawn and approached the young men. 
 
44 M A R K O F . 
 
 " Mamma asks if you would like to play a little 
 music ? " she said to Demiane. 
 
 Her pleasant look and smile were addressed rather 
 to Victor than his brother. The Roussof children 
 were full of goodness, like their parents, arid their 
 compassionate kindness was given more particularly to 
 the poor invalid since the accident. 
 
 " Let us go ! " exclaimed Demiane, who ran on 
 ahead with Benjamin, while Mademoiselle Roussof 
 walked more slowly by Victor's side, who still pain- 
 fully dragged himself along with the aid of a stick. 
 
 As they approached the drawing-room, the well- 
 known chords of a sonata for the piano and violin 
 reached their ears, and they stopped to listen. 
 
 Demiane played on his miserable instrument with 
 astonishing skill and ease. His fantastic fingering 
 little heeded the rules of art ; many notes would not 
 have found grace in a master's ear, but a wild, fierce, 
 passionate feeling carried the youthful musician far 
 beyond this real world, the poor piano, the bad 
 violin, the music that was difficult to read and difficult 
 to execute. After stumbling through ten measures, a 
 melodious phrase issued forth. Demiane gathered it 
 up with the end of his bow and carried it to heights 
 where the composer himself would not have disdained 
 applauding it as it passed. 
 
 " Let us sit down here ; we will hear just as well, 
 and it is not so warm," said Mademoiselle Roussof, 
 pointing to a bench placed under the drawing-room 
 windows. 
 
 They sat down in silence and listened for a long 
 
M A R K O F . j .", 
 
 while. Sometimes, when the discord between the two 
 instruments rose to a veritable quarrel. Madame R<>us- 
 sof stopped short. "Let us begin again," she would 
 say in her tranquil voice ; and Ddmiune, calmed by her 
 coolness, took up the confusing page and unravelled it 
 slowly. 
 
 It was these patient lessons that had formed the 
 growing talent of the young boy. Without them, he 
 would only have been a common violinist. Thanks to 
 this half-maternal education, he felt himself becoming 
 an artist, while at the same time his character became 
 softened, and his manners grew, little by little, superior 
 to those of the people about him. 
 
 Agrippine Roussof, whom her relations and friends 
 familiarly called Groucha, turned towards her pitiable 
 companion. 
 
 " He gets on well," said she, smiling. 
 
 "Do you think so?" Victor said timidly, while 
 answering her smile. 
 
 "He has made great progress since last summer. 
 He has the making of an artist in him.'' 
 
 Victor's eyes gleamed with pride, but the light died 
 out of his look, and he sighed. 
 
 " Of what use will it be to him when he is a pri. 
 he asked sadty. 
 
 "It is always of use, were it only on aeeonnt of the 
 beautiful thoughts to which music gives birth. Does 
 it not seem to you at times that it is like a pr 
 And at church would one pray half as well if the 
 choristers did not sing hymns ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly," Victor answered with some h- 
 
46 M A R K O F . 
 
 tion ; " singing is allowed ; but the violin I never 
 heard of a priest who played on the violin." 
 
 " Well, Demiane will be the first ! " Groucha said 
 
 gayly. 
 
 If this amiable girl had chosen a motto, she would 
 certainly have raised on her flag : " All for the best ! " 
 But her optimism did not limit itself to declaring that 
 everything was perfect under the moon's rays ; she 
 toiled unceasingly with her heart and her agile hands, 
 to improve what she called excellent, aided by her 
 parents whose broad views and abundant charity knew 
 no bounds except in the comparative smallness of their 
 revenue ; she had -thus become a tangible, smiling and 
 peaceful providence, from whom emanated a comfort- 
 ing atmosphere on all human beings, great or small, 
 who suffered near her. 
 
 Victor, seeing her absorbed in listening to a favorite 
 adagio, ventured to raise his eyes to her white face, 
 which was more touching than beautiful, more amiable 
 than regular, and whose principal charm lay in the 
 brightness of two dark-grey eyes, which were soft and 
 luminous, and which one knew not why made one, 
 in the young girl's presence, think of the pictures of 
 Charity holding two children in her arms. 
 
 The calm face, the cheeks tinted with a delicate rose- 
 color, the lovely form, neither too slender nor too stout, 
 but as pleasant to the eye as a May morning, had 
 always presided over Victor's destiny. When he was 
 very young and not behaving well, they threatened not 
 to allow him to play with Mademoiselle Roussof. 
 
 The latter, who was as grave as an Infanta, would 
 
MARK OF. 47 
 
 thanks to her three years' superiority over the compan- 
 ion of her plays preach him a little sermon and accept 
 with a dignified air the promises he made her not to do 
 so any more, and it would all end in a little lunch, and 
 not a few preserves. 
 
 It was thus, by a moral, as well as material ascend- 
 ency, that Groucha had a great influence over her 
 young friend's life. He respected her to that degree, 
 that he called her Mademoiselle Roussof when alone 
 and had never allowed himself to address her by the 
 name of Groucha, since he was six or seven years old. 
 He hardly knew by what name to call the feeling he 
 had for her: the deep and confiding tenderness, the 
 security when near her, the discouragement when she 
 was away; but why give a name to such delicious 
 impressions? In naming them we take away that 
 which is the velvet of the peach, or the satin of the 
 jasmine's white petals. Such things are felt, are di- 
 vined, and are not expressed. One day, however, 
 before the accident had blighted his life, a sort of light 
 illumined Victor's soul, and might have revealed to 
 him, had he wished it, something more positive^" His 
 father and mother were talking about his future, of the 
 sacrifices he cost them, and quite naturally the future 
 marriage of the young aspirant to apostleship came up. 
 
 "Must I marry?" asked Victor, rather suddenly. 
 
 "You have known you must from your cradle!" his 
 mother replied. " One would say that you thought of 
 it now for the first time in your life." 
 
 " They have spoken to me," said she, turning towards 
 Father Kouzma, " of the priest of Bdresovka's second 
 
48 MARK OF. 
 
 daughter; she will have money, and she is only eleven 
 years old. We must put ourselves on a good footing 
 with those people, so that the marriage will arrange 
 itself, when our boy will have reached the proper 
 age." 
 
 Victor did not answer, but allowed his parents to 
 discuss the advantages and disadvantages of the bar- 
 gain. For it was nothing else. A great repugnance 
 had suddenly seized him at the thought of that girl 
 eleven years of age, whom he did not know, whom no 
 one of his family knew, but of whom they had talked 
 as of something to be bought. His repugnance 
 extended even to the idea of marriage itself, and as 
 he was a thoughtful fellow, he asked himself what 
 was the cause of this new and extraordinary feeling. 
 
 " To leave this parish ! " said he to himself, with his 
 heart wrung at the thought ; " that will be hard ! " 
 
 Then he said to himself, that he would not be obliged 
 to leave the parish, for, on the contrary, he could bring 
 his young wife there. 
 
 " If she should displease the Roussof family ! " he 
 thought with a slight shiver. 
 
 He seemed to see Mademoiselle Roussof s grey eyes 
 turn away from the bride with the calm disdain that 
 expressed her great dissatisfaction. 
 
 "Never!" said he to himself; " never a wife that 
 would displease Mademoiselle Roussof." 
 
 Instead of fathoming this dangerous problem, he 
 gave himself up to hunting small birds, which, alas ! 
 turned out no better with him, and ever since, it was 
 with a joyful feeling that he saw the honors and 
 
MARKOF. 49 
 
 prosperity belonging to the eldest of the family p;i 
 his brother. 
 
 "I shall not marry the priest of Bdresovka's daugh- 
 ter," he had said to himself; "I will not many at all ! 
 Who would wish an ugly hunchback like myself?" 
 
 And these reflections, far from saddening him, 
 brought a new serenity into his existence. Ji 
 therefore, with a feeling of modesty and timidity, 
 which was quite natural for him in regard to so im- 
 portant a person, that he raised his eyes on Groudia 
 and gave himself up to the pleasure of contemplating 
 her sweet and restful face. But she did not perc<i\c 
 Victor's admiration ; with her eyes fixed on a cluster of 
 white rose-bushes, which certainly she did not see. >h' 
 dreamed as she listened to the adagio, and her rev-rv 
 took a melancholy color, for her mouth grew sad, and 
 her chestnut colored eye-lashes drooped on her t-1. 
 which had become slightly pale. 
 
 "It is beautiful, is it not?" said Victor in a low 
 voice, who would have made any sacrifice to have 
 restored its wonted expression to her face. 
 
 She answered by a movement of her head and re- 
 mained silent, absorbed by her inner vision. The 
 rolling of distant thunder stilled for an in-tant a 
 delicate pianissimo executed indoors on the two in- 
 struments, then the music continued loudly. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, Mademoiselle?" said 
 Victor, incapable of keeping the question to himself 
 any longer. 
 
 She blushed slightly, then smiled. 
 
 " Of a thousand things far away," she said. 
 3 
 
50 M A R K O F . 
 
 "Faraway?" 
 
 She pointed with her hand to the threatening clouds 
 which were moving to wards' them rapidly. 
 
 " Farther away than the storm," she said, with the 
 same slightly melancholy smile. 
 
 The rolling of the thunder approached, and its last 
 echo seemed to die over the house. 
 
 "They are playing the piano," said Victor a little 
 nervously, "shall we not tell them that it thunders? 
 Perhaps they do not hear it ? " 
 
 " The storm may pass," said Groucha, " let us wait a 
 little." 
 
 The sonata continued within doors ; but Victor, who 
 was disquieted, opened and shut his feverish hands. 
 A universal superstition in Russia, which is found 
 among the highest classes as well as the lowest, forbids 
 the playing of music during a thunder storm ; it would 
 seem as though the audacious performer wished to 
 brave the thunderbolts and battle with the power 
 which God manifests in them. The Roussof family 
 did not share this prejudice, but they yielded to it, that 
 they might not shock their inferiors, or even their 
 equals, who were not so free as themselves from the 
 fetters of a thousand superstitious beliefs. 
 
 A violet-colored gleam of lightning dazzled the eyes 
 of our friends, and made them rise suddenly from their 
 rustic seat, while the noise of the thunder deafened 
 them. They put their hands to their ears and entered 
 the drawing-room as quickly as possible, where Madame 
 Roussof and Demiane were resuming their allegro that 
 had been interrupted by all the noise. Only, as the 
 
M A R K O F . 51 
 
 sky had become very dark, they had lighted candles, 
 and it was by this artificial light that they were 
 tinuing their practising. 
 
 "Mamma," said Groucha, gently, with a smile that 
 made excuses for all weaknesses and brought h< -r 
 mother back to the necessity of making every possible 
 concession to them, " it thunders very hard." 
 
 "D&iiiane," said Victor, still trembling with emo- 
 tion and a little anger at the sight of his younger 
 brother's coolness, "it thunders! ho \v can you play on 
 the violin? " 
 
 "We will wait till the storm is over," said Madame 
 Roussof, rising quietly, "and then we will begin again." 
 
 "How tiresome! " grumbled Ddmiane, vexed at find- 
 ing himself interrupted in the ardor of his work ; " \\ hat 
 difference can it make whether it thunders or not?" 
 
 " It is the prophet Elias driving about up there ! " 
 said Monsieur Roussof, who entered the room; for the 
 result of a thunder-storm is to gather into one room all 
 the inhabitants of a house, impelled absolutely by the 
 same feeling as sheep, which huddle together at t lie- 
 first flash of lightning. 
 
 "What is the prophet Elias to me?" growled tho 
 young rebel. 
 
 "Oh! Ddmiane!" exclaimed Victor, thoron 
 shocked. Another flash of lightning, less vivid than 
 the others, traversed the darkened sky. and even cue 
 made the sign of the cross, excepting Monsieur ' 
 who continued throwing over the company his calm 
 and rather mocking glance ; then they waited a little 
 longer, and the storm seeming to be taking flight, the 
 
52 M A R K O F . 
 
 .musicians went to the piano, and the sonata began 
 again, but Victor did not take the same pleasure in 
 listening, nor the others in executing it. After one 
 piece all said they were tired, and returned to their 
 occupations. 
 
 While Victor, with his brother, was going to their 
 humble little house, reproaching him in regard to his 
 indifference about the thunder, Monsieur Roussof 
 stopped his wife as she was on her way to glance into 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " If that Demiane is ever a priest," said he, " I know 
 some one who will be very much surprised." 
 
 "Don't you think he has a fitness for it?" asked 
 Madame Roussof, without appearing astonished. They 
 were never astonished at anything in that family. 
 
 Monsieur Roussof laughed silently, and concluded 
 by saying, by way of peroration to a speech that he 
 kept to himself : 
 
 " They both have missed their calling : Victor in not 
 being a priest, and De'miane in preparing himself to 
 become one. But the young rogue has not yet made 
 his vows, and the ways of Providence are impenetrable." 
 
 " And do you feel inclined to prevent it ? " Madame 
 Roussof asked. 
 
 Her husband nodded his head affirmatively; after 
 which they exchanged a smile, and turning away from 
 each other went to their different duties. 
 
M A R K O F . 63 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 
 
 DKMAINE however entered the Theological Sem- 
 inary and passed a whole scholastic year. I It- 
 had taken a few books and his precious violin in his 
 trunk with him, but in the rare letters which he wrote 
 to hisparents-he spoke of neither the one nor the other; 
 in truth, the fate of these things interested the I 1 
 and his wife infinitely less than that of the shirts and 
 stockings which they must very soon replace. 
 
 The year ended, Ddmiane returned, and every one 
 found him very much changed. His youthful gfi 
 only returned by fits and starts, his eharaeter had 
 become sad, like his face. He had not been able to 
 bend his body to the sedate walk of his comrades ; from 
 being brusque and impetuous, he had become awkward 
 and ungainly. 
 
 "They have not made him handsomer for us," said 
 Madame lluussof to her husband, after the young man 
 made his first visit on his return. 
 
 "He is at the awkward age," replied the philosopher. 
 
 "He is seventeen and a half years old, he ought not 
 to be so clumsy. What will he do with his ; 
 legs next year, if this year he is alread\ so embarrassed 
 by them?" 
 
 "God will see to it!" replied the skeptical physician. 
 "And his music did you talk togeih.-r ftbonl 
 
54 M A R K O F . 
 
 " He acted as though he did not care to speak of it. 
 I believe a drama has taken place at the Seminary." 
 
 " Make him tell you about it ! " 
 
 " He would not, but Groucha will try and draw it 
 out from Victor." 
 
 " Power of machiavelism ! " said Roussof, quietly. 
 " When you have learned it you will tell it to me." 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 Alas ! in fact, a drama had been played at the Sem- 
 inary. First, Ddmiane's books had disappeared without 
 returning, because all profane reading was useless in 
 a place that is wholly consecrated to the study of 
 holy works. The young man would have consoled 
 himself for this misfortune, had not a graver one 
 followed. 
 
 After being here a while, De*miane, finding one day 
 that he had an hour of freedom, went to his cell and 
 unpacked his precious violin ; after tuning it, he 
 hastened to assure himself that he had lost none of his 
 good or bad qualities. 
 
 To put himself in harmony with the walls of so 
 venerable a place, he began by playing a church hymn ; 
 immediately the curious heads of his comrades appeared 
 at the door of the corridor. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " the boldest asked. 
 
 " I am playing the violin, as you see." 
 
 " Has the Father Superior allowed you to do so ? " 
 
 "No. Must I get permission ?" 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 A Father Inspector arrived in the meanwhile and the 
 same dialogue was repeated, word for word. 
 
M A R K O F . 55 
 
 A little astonished, the Father Inspector went to the 
 Father Superior, and reported what he had just seen 
 and heard. The latter meditated and implored the 
 light of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 Now, every one knows that the Holy Spirit never 
 refuses its light to those who implore it, and the reason 
 of this condescension is easy to be understood; cadi 
 one imploring help from on high for his inner conscience, 
 is the sole judge in regard to the moment chosen by the 
 light to appear ; he applies that to his theories and his 
 needs; and afterwards thanks Providence, who has, 
 however, had nothing to do with it. It is thus that the 
 thing is done in all latitudes, and even in all the longi- 
 tudes that have been explored up to the present, from 
 the Red Skin, who consults his Manitou, to the Rev- 
 erend Father Superior of the Seminary of Z. 
 
 When this worthy personage had received from 
 Heaven the additional light for which he had asked, or 
 imagined that he had received it which is exactly tin; 
 same thing he sent for the scholar Ddmiane : "With 
 the thing which he has introduced into our establish- 
 ment," added the good man. 
 
 D^maine and " the thing " arrived, one carrying the 
 other, and the following dialogue astonished the walls 
 of the Seminary : 
 
 " What is that?" asked the Superior. 
 
 " Reverend Father, it is my violin." 
 
 " What do you do with it?" 
 
 " I play it." 
 
 The Reverend Father reflected for a moment. 
 
 " Let me see it," said he. 
 
56 M A R K O F . 
 
 Demiane let him "see it," or rather hear it, and 
 played for he was cunning a pious hymn, with all 
 desirable unction and slowness. 
 
 " Hem ! " said the Superior, caressing his beard. 
 "Hem ! that's not bad. Who gave it to you?" 
 
 " Monsieur Roussof, the lord of our village." 
 
 " A nobleman ? " 
 
 " Yes, Reverend Father, a nobleman." 
 
 " Is he in the service of the Government ? 
 
 " No, Reverend Father, he is a physician." 
 
 " Ah ! he is a physician, and he gave you that ? " 
 
 Ddmiane thought that the Reverend Father Superior 
 hid his light under a thick layer of real humility or 
 pretended ignorance, unless the adjective of the one 
 might pass to the other, interchangeably, but he kept a 
 respectful silence. 
 
 " It is with violins that they make people dance, do 
 they not? " the Superior asked. 
 
 "Yes, my Reverend Father, and with many other 
 instruments also." 
 
 " Hem ! " said the dignitary, " that may be. But the 
 violin is not a canonical instrument, it cannot be found 
 mentioned in the Scriptures. Now, the trumpet can 
 be found in them; it was to the sound of trumpets 
 that the walls of Jericho fell ; the harp is a canonical 
 instrument; holy King David held it in affection 
 during the whole course of his existence ; but nowhere 
 is there mention made of the violin." 
 
 Demiane listened, and clasped to his heart the unca- 
 nonical instrument, knowing it was in danger. 
 
 " Do not touch that instrument again as long as you 
 
MARK OF. 57 
 
 remain among us," continued the Superior, "and more- 
 over, I beg you will place it in my hands. When you 
 return to your family, I will return it to you; at 
 present it could only divert you from your studies and 
 the destiny that awaits you." 
 
 De'miane, who was excited by the greatness of the 
 danger, avoided it by a stroke of genius. 
 
 " I am ready to obey, my Reverend Father," said h>. 
 "But permit me to show you that all the noise of 
 my violin resides in these strings here. I will give 
 you the strings, but, I implore you, permit me to kn-p 
 the violin ! " 
 
 While he was speaking he removed the strings and 
 laid them before the Superior. 
 
 " Why do you value that piece of wood so highly ? " 
 asked the latter, frowning suspiciously. 
 
 De'miane blushed, for he was about to say something 
 not quite true, feeling that he must save his dear 
 treasure. 
 
 "Excuse me, my Reverend Father," said ho, u when 
 my brother was very ill I played church hymns to 
 him ; he could not assist at the divine service, and my 
 violin gave him pleasure ; it was his only consolation." 
 
 The excellent man was touched by this very -imple 
 plea. 
 
 " Keep the wood," said he, "and give me the strings. 
 But you must not be heard again ! " 
 
 "That cannot be, since I leave the strings with 
 Your Grace," the happy Demiane said hypocritically. 
 
 He received His Grace's benediction, and hurried to 
 his cell. At night, when all in the Seminary were 
 
58 M A R K O F . 
 
 snoring, he took from a hiding-place the strings Benja- 
 min Roussof had given him, and adjusted them to his 
 violin, then he made them sound under his sheets, with 
 his head buried under the bed-clothes, at the risk of 
 smothering. 
 
 He kept his treasure, but he could not make use of 
 it. This punishment of Tantalus made him morose. 
 Then, one day when he was alone, he thought of run- 
 ning his fingers over the strings, without using his bow. 
 Playing in this mute way, he acquired great dexterity 
 in fingering, and his memory being no longer guided 
 by his ear, developed in an extraordinary manner. 
 
 But he disliked everything at the Seminary ; he had 
 entered it too late not to observe the faults in that 
 kind of education, and moreover, having grown up in 
 full liberty, like a wild colt, the rein and curb of the 
 rules seemed intolerable to him. 
 
 The foundation of resignation, that among Russians 
 accompanies the most seeming, and even the most real 
 lack of discipline, made De'miane endure things that 
 would have caused a Frenchman to jump over the 
 walls without delay; but when he returned to his 
 home he carried with him a sort of sullen resolve not 
 to endure any longer what so displeased him. This 
 resolution was not of the kind one announces to one's 
 father on a lovely evening after dinner. It needed 
 precautions, and above all allies. The precautions to 
 be taken were not impossible, in spite of Ddmiane's 
 inexperience, but as to the allies, where should he find 
 them ? The young man's heart beat fast the first time 
 he touched upon the subject with his father. 
 
MARK OF. 59 
 
 The evening was a superb one, and the moon was 
 reflected in the pond in a way that would have satisfied 
 all the poets of the globe. The frogs, which are as 
 necessary to a Russian pond as are the banks that 
 surround it, were croaking with that admirable unitv 
 with which all are familiar. Do frogs understand BO 
 much as, or more than modern musicians in regard to 
 composition and the science of music? From the 
 earliest antiquity these harmonious musicians have com- 
 bined their solos and their choruses with a cleverness 
 and elegance that very few operas manifest now-a-days. 
 Was it not the poised measure of their nightly hymns 
 that inspired the Greek tragic writers with the refrains 
 of their choruses and the rhythmed plaints of their 
 master works ? I defy any one who has listened on a 
 beautiful summer's night to the croaking of a lonely 
 frog, who is soon accompanied by a formidable 
 orchestra, with eloquent pianos and crescendo* that 
 are full of majesty, not to think of some chef-d'oeuvre 
 of modern art, such as the Benediction des poignards 
 (all proper proportion being kept, of course, and in 
 this comparison all due respect being paid). 
 
 D^miane's soul was full of secret anguish; tho 
 strange, almost unhealthy friendship that his brother 
 had for him, made him hope for his efficient aid. liuf, 
 on the other hand, he saw in Victor weaknesses and 
 terrors, that were due, doubtless, to his early edneatinn, 
 and from which he had freed himself, one cannot tell 
 how, unless by living almost always alone in the wmuls 
 and the rest of the time with his dear violin. 
 
 " Do you love me ? " said he, as he clasped his arm 
 
60 MAKKOF. 
 
 around the invalid's neck, while they were sitting on a 
 bench, at the end of their father's garden, close to the 
 grassy banks of the pond. 
 
 " Do I love you ! Ah ! my poor Demiane, I can only 
 say, that I have scarcely lived all winter ; I remember 
 nothing since you went away to the Seminary." 
 
 The young scholar clasped his brother affectionately 
 in his arms. 
 
 "You would not like to see me unhappy, would 
 you?" 
 
 " Certainly not ! but why should you be unhappy ? " 
 
 Ddmiane drew himself up, then with a firm voice, 
 that was moderated designedly, said: 
 
 " Victor, I do not wish to be a priest." 
 
 His brother suddenly trembled, and made the sign of 
 the cross. 
 
 "You you are out of your mind, Demiane. What 
 did you say?" 
 
 "I do not wish to be, and I will not be a priest," 
 Demiane repeated with the same firmness. 
 
 "May God and all the Saints protect us! The 
 evil spirit has turned your head ! Come back to your- 
 self, brother I Why should you wish to resist God's 
 will?" 
 
 "It is not God's will that I should be a priest, 
 Victor, or else He would never have put into my heart 
 this mad love for music, or else moreover the Fathers 
 at the Seminary would not have forbidden my playing 
 the violin. If they had permitted me to play, I 
 would perhaps have been a good priest, no worse than 
 any other, but they forbade me. I will play the 
 
M ARKOF. Gl 
 
 violin, yes, I will! or else I will become wicked and 
 do every one harm." 
 
 "Silence, Demiane, silence! If they should hear 
 you," said Victor, terrified. 
 
 " Well, let them hear me ! Some time or other I 
 must tell them; I will never enter upon any career in 
 which I cannot play the violin. And what harm is 
 there in loving music ? Is not one's heart full of good 
 tilings, full even to tears, when one plays some beautiful 
 piece of music ? " 
 
 "That is true, she said that music resembled a 
 prayer," said Victor in a low voice. 
 
 " Whom do you mean ? She spoke well ! " 
 
 "Mademoiselle Roussof," murmured the young man, 
 ashamed at having alluded to so respectable a pi-r.-.m 
 with so little ceremony. 
 
 "She is good; she will help me with all her pmvn/' 
 continued Demiane, without paying any attention to 
 his elder brother's confusion. "She understands that 
 one loves music better than anything else in the world ! 
 And her mother too, and her father also! They will 
 help me." 
 
 Victor shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 "What do you wish to do, then?" asked he, with his 
 practical mind. 
 
 " I wish to play the violin." 
 
 "And then?"" 
 
 " That is all ! Does not that suffice ? " 
 
 "But it is not a vocation," observed Victor. One 
 plays on the violin for pleasure, as the Koiissnfs play the 
 piano. But the rest of the time, what will you < ; 
 
62 MARK OF. 
 
 "You do not understand me !" said Demiane impa- 
 tiently ; " I wisli to be a violinist ; I will give concerts, 
 they will pay to listen to me and I will earn a great 
 deal of money." 
 
 " Does one earn money that way ? " asked Victor, 
 who was not convinced. 
 
 " Enormous fortunes." 
 
 There was silence; the frogs themselves, for a mo- 
 ment stopped their concert ; our friends meditated each 
 in his own way, during the stillness. 
 
 "Father will not allow it ! " said Victor, thus ending 
 his reflections. Demiane made no objection to this. 
 Evidently Father Kouzma would not consent to his 
 son's giving all his time to music. 
 
 It was astonishing that he had permitted him to do 
 so until now; but his excuse was, that he considered 
 the violin about the same as a lathe or a carpenter's 
 bench one of those useful toys that one gives to 
 children for their New Year's gift. The noise of the 
 violin had not disturbed him, more than a saw or a 
 plane would have done, and certainly much less than a 
 hammer driving nails into sonorous wood. 
 
 " Well," continued the elder brother, " if you would 
 like to enter some office in Government service, where 
 one can advance, father perhaps would consent to it." 
 
 "No," said Demiane, determinedly, "I do not wish 
 to enter an office." 
 
 "But just to make a beginning," Victor intimated. 
 
 "To begin what?" 
 
 " Anything so that you may not have to return to the 
 Seminary," timidly suggested the young Machiavelli. 
 
M A R K O F . C3 
 
 This idea was judicious enough, but how could it lie 
 carried out? 
 
 " One must first have a place," Ddmiane said, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders. 
 
 " Ask Monsieur Roussof about it ! " 
 
 " Yes I can ask him but still, would father con- 
 sent to it?" 
 
 " Perhaps," said Victor, feigning a hope which he did 
 not have. 
 
 "And then, if he refuses so much the woi 
 
 " You will return to the Seminary ? " 
 
 " I will run away ! " 
 
 Victor shuddered with horror, and, despite his cour- 
 age, our conspirator glanced around him ; but tln-y 
 were quite alone alone with the frogs who intoned a 
 hymn of triumph in honor of his bold resolution. 
 
64 M A R K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CHEERY TREES. 
 
 II MADEMOISELLE ROUSSOF, seated near a 
 JJjL window in her bed-room, was sewing on a little 
 peasant's shirt, that was made of ugly, bright, pink 
 cotton; she was very busy fitting to the arm-holes two 
 squares of intense red stuff, without which, no one 
 knows why, a peasant's shirt is a despicable object and 
 unworthy of being worn except in the meanest kind of 
 labor. 
 
 While her needle was making a little sharp and 
 regular noise in the cotton, Mademoiselle Roussof was 
 thinking of far away things as she had said to Victor 
 the year before and her wandering mind led her far 
 from the pink shirt and the belfry in the form of an 
 inverted turnip, which shut off her view on the other 
 side of the pond. This is what she saw in her revery. 
 
 She saw a green plain, green with the velvety look 
 of well-watered meadows ; and in truth, a stream ran 
 through it, sometimes ornamented with a few willows, 
 but oftener simply fringed with forget-me-nots, which 
 were so full of flowers and so thick, that one saw their 
 pale blue color stand out on the green, even when more 
 than a hundred steps from them. 
 
 The plain was deserted; a mill, which was only 
 inhabited when it was running, that is to say, when 
 the stream consented to be neither frozen nor dry, 
 
M ARKOF. 
 
 
 
 stood stately in the lovely plaee, attract ing tli 
 from the black color of its old wood which had been 
 beaten against by the storms of maiiv wint , \ 
 water-gate closed the current of tlie stivam. and a small 
 bridge, hastily made of two beams, scanned the \\ 
 gate at a certain height. This bridge, strangely enough, 
 rested on two piles of bricks that were eaten a\\av 1\- 
 rncss, and worn away by the hard knocks of floating 
 LC iii the winter, but which were still solid and aL 
 majestic; these piers, which were much older than the 
 bridge they supported, had witnessed mai, . but 
 
 stones, alas! do not speak. As to the bridge it>elf. it 
 formerly had a railing, but it had fallen into the river on 
 some very stormy night and no one had since seen it, 
 nor taken the trouble to replace it. 
 
 The plain was a valley, for on two sides rose small 
 hills, whose steep descent abruptly terminated in 
 land. On the left, extended some woods of pines and 
 birches. The sandy ground was torn here and there 
 into white rifts, and some roads whieh WT.- white as 
 well climbed over the summits and 
 appeared at some unknown point. 
 
 On the right, a little town was spread out, ha\ing a 
 Monastery as its principal landmark. Th: 
 which was something like a fortress as are all Hi. 
 convents enclosed within its high walls, composed of 
 divers buildings, a church, several ^ and 
 
 apple orchards, all of which < 
 
 plain and were sheltered by gl ' hidi 
 
 strangely trimmed half way u: 
 trunks spread out to the sky numberless branches, 
 
66 MARKOF. 
 
 
 
 which were relatively young, that is to say, about fifty 
 years old. These queer looking trees were to be found 
 especially in the direction of the opposite heights, as 
 though they had been expressly cut away in order to 
 let one see the hills. But it was not the caprice of 
 some owner who had thus mutilated them, any more 
 than it was chance that made the grass of the luxuriant 
 meadow so green and so fertile the stream was the 
 Bdresina, and it was French bullets that had deprived 
 the great willows of their crowns. 
 
 A few leagues from the spot where the bloody battle 
 of Borodino was fought, a large body of troops had an 
 engagement with a Russian division; the little Monas- 
 tery was cruelly bombarded, and many men fraternized 
 in their death agony on the banks of the stream. No 
 one counted the corpses which strewed the plain; the 
 inhabitants of the Monastery did not go to identify 
 their dead under the murderous fire of the French 
 batteries, which lasted three days, and when the army 
 drew off, the plunderers of the battle-field had already 
 despoiled the victims. They buried the Russians and 
 the French in the same graves, and the monks of the 
 Monastery, after having accomplished this pious duty, 
 devoted their prayers during many long years, to the 
 repose of the souls of those, on both sides, who had 
 found death far from their homes. 
 
 Mademoiselle Roussof knew all this ; she had walked 
 with thoughtful footsteps over the grass-grown paths 
 that surrounded those sacred hillocks; she had listened 
 to the story of those three days, a story of fire and 
 blood the same, alas! which has been told for centu- 
 
M A R K O F . 67 
 
 ries of all besieged cities, all violated territories, from 
 the obscure corners of Asia to the heart even of capi- 
 tals and it was with deep pity that she had gazed on 
 the simple landscape, which was so smiling in its lines, 
 so full of welcome in its contours, and so tragic when 
 one learned its legend. 
 
 There are situations, and combinations of events 
 which indelibly engrave on one's memory certain facts 
 which would otherwise have no importance. Under the 
 influence of some emotions, our heart opens to new feel- 
 ings and unveils itself to us, in one instant, better than 
 it could have done, during many peaceful years. When 
 Mademoiselle Roussof listened to the story of th<- 
 heroic combats, in which both Russians and French 
 had shown an almost superhuman bravery, a young 
 man was walking near the group of people of which 
 she was one, and was watching on her face the traces 
 of the emotions to which this epic had given birth. 
 
 What had he seen on that calm, pale fae that had 
 inspired him with so much enthusiasm and veneration ? 
 Was it the pity that is innate in some souls, which 
 betrayed itself in the pearly paleness, in the trembling 
 of the half-open lips? Was it the kindness in time 
 grey eyes which bent over the graves with so nnn-h 
 sweetness, or the charming grace with which the ymniij 
 girl let fall upon the hillock, the bunch of flowers she 
 had gathered in the plain, rendering thus to death, that 
 to which death had given birth. 
 
 What matters it? When Mademoiselle Kuussuf 
 raised her thoughtful eyes, which had been for a long 
 time fixed upon the ground, she read in those of the 
 
68 M A R K F . 
 
 young physician, that he thought like herself, and that 
 she had found a friend. 
 
 They did not speak, for they did not know each 
 other. Valerien Moutine went to pass a few days with 
 
 the archimandrite of M , whom he had known 
 
 since his childhood; the accident of a broken wheel 
 had obliged the Roussof family, who were going to 
 their estates, to pass two days in the little town. They 
 visited the convent ; and the archimandrite, who was 
 happy at meeting intelligent people and being able to 
 converse a little, did the honors of the place to them, 
 and that was how Groucha found herself walking along 
 the banks of the Beresina, with an unknown man, the 
 remembrance of whom she was to carr}^ away with her. 
 
 Only two days ! It was a very short time in which 
 to make an impression that was to last all her life ; but 
 during those two days, every thing had conspired 
 against her. While her parents were seated with the 
 archimandrite, enjoying some rare tea, which had been 
 brought expressly from the heart of China to please the 
 good old man a princely gift from some troubled soul 
 to whom he had brought back peace, they had sent 
 " the children " to amuse themselves in the garden, 
 the children were Groucha and her brother Benjamin, 
 and the J^oung physician had followed them under 
 the pretext that he was not yet twenty-five years old. 
 
 The cherry trees grew in such profusion in a corner 
 of the orchard, that according to the lay brother's 
 assertion who was conducting them about, they lost at 
 least two quintals of them every year. 
 
 "It is not that they are exactly lost," said the honest 
 
M A II K O F . C9 
 
 fellow, u for the good Lord's birds oat them. Tlie blos- 
 soms have hardly fallen when the little plunderers come 
 and perch themselves on those trees oj.p-. 
 on the walls, or wherever they ran find a place; thev 
 semi to be watching them grow and redden ; hut D 
 fear they will touch them before they are ripe! From 
 time to time they come and give a thrust with their 
 beaks and then fly away. But when a beautiful sun- 
 shiny day, followed by a good warm night, has ripened 
 them, long before dawn our gourmands are in the trees, 
 and yon would say there were more birds than eh 
 When one approaches they do not even disturb them- 
 selves ! " 
 
 "Do you not place any nets there?" the young man 
 asked. 
 
 44 The Father archimandrite does not wi-h it, he says 
 there will always remain enough for us." 
 
 Involuntarily the young people exchanged a look and 
 smile. Benjamin was already stealing oil' under the 
 branches, in the cherry tree copse; his sister \vi>l. 
 stop him. 
 
 "Ah!" said the lay brother, "you may let him go, 
 he cannot do any harm there. The trees grow ih. 
 God's pleasure." 
 
 He followed Benjamin and the young p<-"p!<- went 
 behind him. 
 
 In truth, the trees grew in full liberty : the branches 
 springing up from their trunks, entwined within 
 other, and forming bowers were lopped off in 
 to form covered paths, where they walk' time 
 
 of gathering. These paths followed no regular | 
 
70 MAKKOF. 
 
 but they turned capriciously, according to the fancy 
 of those primitive gardeners. After a few steps 
 Groucha stopped and so did her companion. Benjamin 
 and the lay brother had disappeared in the copse ; they 
 heard their voices but could not see them. The young 
 girl raised her eyes : a milky light fell upon them from 
 the white arch. They could not see the sky, they 
 could not perceive any trace of cultivation ; above their 
 heads, around them, were only the black branches and 
 the milk-white blossoms, whose petals were scattered 
 over the grass at their feet. Mademoiselle Roussof felt 
 her eyes become moist with tears, and she lowered her 
 eyelids to hide the emotion which she thought was 
 absurd and which she could not explain to herself. 
 A slight movement that she made as she leaned 
 against a stronger trunk shook the cherry tree, and a 
 shower of blossoms fell on her head. There were some 
 in her hair, on her neck, on her dress, on her hands, 
 everywhere that the delicate impalpable flowers could 
 find a place to rest themselves. She smiled to conceal 
 her embarrassment, and the movement of her head 
 which accompanied it, shook the petals all around her. 
 Vale'rien stooped quickly, held out his hands, and 
 gathered the flowers that had touched her. 
 
 All this took place in a moment, without a word 
 having been said. They continued their walk towards 
 the place where Benjamin's voice guided them, and 
 came out at last from the white cloud that had 
 enveloped them. 
 
 The sight of the blue sky seemed to give back to 
 Groucha the calm she had lost in the disquieting 
 
M A R K F . 71 
 
 atmosphere of the cherry trees ; they took a turn 
 around the large, almost wild garden, and went back 
 to their elders, exchanging only a few common-place 
 words. 
 
 "Oh! mamma," exclaimed Benjamin, "if you only 
 knew how many cherries there will be in six weeks ! " 
 
 Groucha said nothing, but her cheeks were tinted 
 with a deeper rose, and Valerien looked out of the 
 window. 
 
 In the autumn they passed through M again, 
 
 and strangely, Valdrien was also there at the same 
 time. Their relations with the good archimandrite 
 became more friendly and closer ; he sent a basket of 
 cherries to Benjamin, and Madame lloussof returned 
 him one with plums. They passed a charming day ; it 
 rained a little, the trees had lost their leaves, and the 
 grass was growing yellow, but they went, nevertheless, 
 to walk in the meadows. When they were obliged to 
 pass over the famous bridge, Benjamin ventured on it 
 fearlessly; but his parents declared they would not 
 risk themselves on it, and preferred to make a dtour. 
 The young physician, who was already on the other 
 side of it, seeing Mademoiselle Roussof hesitate, held 
 out his hand to her. Why did Groucha step resolutcly 
 on the shaking planks and put her right hand into the 
 one he offered her? And why, without his having 
 pressed it in any other way than to sustain her, did >ho 
 feel that that man offered her his life? All such 
 acts are mysteries that cannot be solved. 
 
 The spring returned, and they stopped again at the 
 Monastery, only for a longer while this time. The 
 
f 2 M A R K O F . 
 
 archimandrite, who was passionately fond of music, 
 presented the Roussofs to a family in the town who 
 possessed an excellent piano, and he passed a delightful 
 evening hearing Madame Roussof and her daughter 
 play together, and singly, some of the best works of 
 the great masters. 
 
 " I will go to see you," he said to Groucha, when she 
 took leave of him ; "I will go so that you may play for 
 me. I have not heard anything so good for twenty 
 years." 
 
 They begged the kind old man to keep his promise, 
 but the young physician was not included in the invi- 
 tation. Monsieur and Madame Roussof had hardly 
 taken notice of the youth's existence, who said almost 
 nothing, and was satisfied in listening to every one else. 
 
 This was why Groucha, as she plied her needle, 
 thought of " far away " things. She reproached herself 
 for thinking of them, and still she did not wish to 
 entertain any other thoughts. 
 
 A noise of bells drew her attention to the road. She 
 could only see a very small portion of it on the bridge 
 over the dam, and she had to wait quite a while. 
 In the country, one becomes very clever at distinguish- 
 ing the difference of sounds made by different vehicles. 
 What was coming was neither a telega nor a light 
 caleche ; consequently this visit could not be that of a 
 near neighbor. The heavy rolling of the wheels, the 
 weight of the equipage, that shook the ground for some 
 distance, the loudness of the large bells, all announced 
 a majestic berlin, a carriage come from afar, and 
 drawn by six horses. 
 
M A R K O F . 
 
 Indeed a large landau came in si^ht on the bridgo, 
 and a black form, around which floated veils made of 
 thin material, appeared at the carriage window op].. 
 She saw a white face, and a hand whiter still, that was 
 raised gently and made her a salute that resembled a 
 benediction. 
 
 "It is the archimandrite!" said Groucha to herself, 
 feeling at once a pang at her heart. "And he lias 
 come alone ! " 
 
 She realized then, for the first time, that she had 
 been waiting for Valerien for two months. 
 
74 M A K K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ARCHIMANDRITE ARSENE. 
 
 " ^LTOU did not expect me?" said the archimandrite, 
 
 JL while they were hurrying to serve him tea. 
 
 He was seated in a large leather arm-chair, in the 
 shelter of a green blind, and face and figure seemed to 
 express rest and satisfaction. 
 
 The archimandrite Arsene was not an ordinary man. 
 A great deal too much has been written in novels 
 about those who throw themselves into a cloister to 
 heal some incurable wound, and yet it is the truth 
 sometimes. He whom they now called Father Arsene, 
 had been a brilliant naval officer ; when still young he 
 had commanded a frigate, and, during his leaves-of- 
 absence, Petersburg had never. known a more charm- 
 ing member of society. Suddenly, just as his career 
 seemed established, when Court favor assured him the 
 most promising future, he had left the world and 
 entered a monastery, like any novice of sixteen. They 
 said, and he permitted them to say it, that the grief 
 caused by his mother's death had made life insup- 
 portable to him ; but it is probable that another grief 
 closer still, one of those which one wishes to hide in 
 one's own heart, had preceded or accompanied the one 
 of which he had made a pretext for his resolution. 
 
 Certain monastic rules in Russia allow the retention 
 of personal fortune. One may be compelled to live as 
 
MARKOF. 7o 
 
 simply as a lay brother and possess at the same timo 
 considerable income; these revenues, which are not the. 
 property of the convent, permit the monks to do manv 
 good works outside of their pious duties. Doubtless, 
 in cases where this fortune would become an ohj-et 
 of scandal, he who possessed it would be obliged to 
 renounce its use; but in regard to that of Father 
 Arsene, no one ever had any occasion to complain or 
 take offence at it. 
 
 After ten years of humility, being promoted by gen- 
 eral desire to the rank of prior or archimandrite of the 
 monastery in which he had made his vows, the naval 
 officer immediately established a military discipline in 
 it, which surprised every one, and produced the most 
 extraordinary results. At the end of six months not 
 only were there no more fleas in the convent, but the 
 Avails which were kept whitewashed retained their new 
 freshness; the floors, which were carefully scrubbed, 
 scraped and sprinkled with sand, recalled the deck of 
 the vessel which the brave man once commanded. Tin TO 
 were no more cobwebs in the corners, no more heaps of 
 dust in the windows, everything was as shining and 
 clean as on board ship. 
 
 The metamorphosis extended farther still. Father 
 Arse"ne's enterprising spirit needed some other al inn Mil 
 besides the church services. He organized a choir, 
 found the antique psalmodies, and re-established the 
 sacred chants in their early purity. Pitilessly banish- 
 ing from the choirs those who sang falsely, he gathered 
 together a quartette which became celebrated, even in :i 
 country where almost all the convents are renowned 
 
76 M A R K O F . 
 
 for the excellence of their church music. But this em- 
 ployment, which was purely intellectual left the monks 
 long hours of idleness, which were gilded by the fine 
 name of hours of meditation. Father Arsene did not 
 wish that there should be so much meditation, and he 
 undertook to search for some less ideal occupation. 
 
 One day as he was walking outside of the monastery 
 enclosure, leaning on a cane whose aid he needed, for 
 he sometimes suffered from the gout, he stopped before 
 a field belonging to the community, and from which 
 until then they had never been able to raise any kind 
 of produce. The ground furnished with deplorable 
 profusion a particular kind of thistle, whose rough, firm 
 heads obstinately refused to make even the most meagre 
 forage. They uprooted these obstinate plants twenty 
 times, they ploughed and harrowed the field, they sowed 
 it with grass and grain, and in the spring it was thistles 
 only that came up, the same identical thistles, which 
 seemed to say : " We are here to remain by your leave, 
 and we will remain here." 
 
 Wearied out, the community had bought an ass, and 
 put it out to pasture in this place, which ought to have 
 been a realm of delight for him ; but the ass grew thin 
 from that time, and stood out on the hill-side looking 
 like a skeleton, for the thistles prevented the grass 
 from growing, and were not of the kind that asses can 
 eat. To prevent his dying they were obliged to give 
 the poor beast some oats, contrary to all the rules of 
 sobriety practised in the monastery. 
 
 Father Arsene contemplated the ass' leanness, and 
 said to himself, in spite of his religious principles, that 
 
MARKOF. 77 
 
 without doubt the ways of Providence were sometimes 
 inscrutable, when a thought suggested itself. Going to 
 the ungrateful piece of land, which had no need of any 
 enclosure, alas ! on the contrary, they were oblige! t 
 attach its resisting tenant to a post so that he should 
 not seek better fortune elsewhere the archimandrite 
 picked off the heads of a few of the finest specinu 
 this wilful flora, and carried them home with him. 
 
 For several days Father Arsene seemed so pre-occu- 
 pied that the monks did not dare to speak to him, in 
 spite of his great goodness. Not that they were afraid 
 of being badly received, but they felt that their supe- 
 rior had some idea at work in his head, and they would 
 not have caused him a distraction or a care for any tiling 
 in the world. 
 
 Towards the middle of the second week, the monas- 
 tery was convoked, even to the last lay brother, and 
 Father Arsene delivered himself thus, in the presence 
 of those who were subordinate to him : 
 
 " My dear brothers, my dear children, we are very 
 wrong ever to blame Providence, when it is with our- 
 selves alone and our weaknesses, that we should iind 
 fault in regard to our troubles. You all know the 
 thistle-field, which extends down to the banks of the 
 Be'resina, and none of you are unaware how useless 
 even troublesome we have found it. ll>w \T. it 
 tained a richness which we have not known h<>\\ io 
 appreciate, and which the Lord disclosed t< > -i her 
 
 day. Those thistles are carding thiv ;re kind 
 
 which is much sought after; with the wool from our 
 sheep, which we have had such trouble to weave until 
 
78 M A R K O F . 
 
 now, we will be able to make excellent cloths, which 
 will henceforth clothe you. If the will of Heaven 
 does not prove contrary to it, our community will 
 make a net profit out of it of two thousand roubles 
 a year." 
 
 This communication was received with surprise : 
 they did not dare to believe it. How could those 
 thistles be good for anything? They were obliged 
 however, to yield to evidence when two workmen 
 brought from Moscow, taught the brothers how to use 
 the thistles. A temporary building soon rose on the 
 banks of the Beresina, whose purified waters no\\ 
 served only for work, after having rolled so manj 
 corpses in their stream, and two years later, not onl} 
 were the benefits foretold by Father Arseme realized, 
 but the manufacture of carded cloths gave the Monaa 
 tery an income of six thousand roubles. 
 
 Such was the man who henceforth, clad in lone 
 trailing gowns of black serge, wearing a cylindrical caj 
 with the top cut off and surrounded by veils made o; 
 thin black stuff, passed his life in doing good arounc 
 him to persons of all ranks, high and low, and who fo] 
 the moment seemed principally occupied with the pleas 
 ure of finding himself again with people who loved him 
 
 "You had given up waiting for me," he said, wit! 
 his smiling eyes glancing over the faces which sur 
 rounded him, and bore the impress of filial affection. 
 
 " You promised to come, Father Arsene," said Mad- 
 ame Roussof; "but you are so busy." 
 
 " There are duties of all kinds," answered the old 
 man, with a smile full of mischievous good-nature; "the 
 
M A H K O F . 79 
 
 one which brings mo among you, docs not enter into 
 our ordinary privileges." 
 
 He looked at Mademoiselle Roussof as he was speak- 
 ing; the latter became very pale and left the drawing- 
 room, beckoning to Benjamin to follow her. 
 
 "She understood," said Father Arsene to the aston- 
 ished parents; it is a good augury for the object that 
 brings me here; you do not guess it, my friends 1 / 
 Your daughter, however, knows what it is." 
 
 Monsieur and Madame Roussof kept looking at him 
 with bewildered eyes. He became grave. 
 
 " My young friend, Val^rien Moutine, has been very 
 much taken by your daughter Agrippine's qualities, but 
 he felt sure you would not consent to give your child 
 to a man unknown to you, and who possessed no 
 fortune ; for eighteen months he has worked night and 
 day to obtain the place of physician to the Hospital of 
 our town, and he has at last been appointed. A good 
 and regular practice is thus assured him, and besides, 
 he has my friendship. In order to be more certain of 
 his happiness, he wished to put his young wife under 
 my protection, under my watchful care. Will you 
 give him, through me, the hand of your dan 
 Agrippine?" 
 
 The parents were taken quite unawares, for they 
 never had any suspicion of such a demand. .Madame 
 Roussof looked at her husband. 
 
 "Certainly, Father Arsene," said she, hesitatingly. 
 " The fact alone of having trusted this proposition to 
 you, pleads in favor of your protSge." 
 
 "It is truly the first time," interrupted the archinian- 
 
80 MARKOF. 
 
 drite, smiling, " that I have been entrusted to negotiate 
 a marriage, and probably will be the last." 
 
 "But this this young man, has he spoken to our 
 daughter? Does he know whether he has any chance 
 of pleasing her?" 
 
 " Valdrien assured me that he never broached such a 
 subject to your child. He waited until his fate should 
 be settled, to declare himself to her as to yourselves; 
 then, at the last moment, his courage failed him and he 
 delegated me." 
 
 Monsieur Roussof said nothing, but he took his wife's 
 hand and rose. 
 
 "My dear," said he, "if you will take my advice, if 
 would be better as Agrippine wishes. If you remem- 
 ber, my position when I married you, was not as 
 assured as this young man's appears to be, and yet 
 if this marriage suits our daughter, let it take place : 
 my sole desire is to see her happy." 
 
 Madame Roussof wept silently, but she made nc 
 objection. 
 
 " Call Mademoiselle," said Monsieur Roussof, put- 
 ting his head into the next room. 
 
 After a moment, during which time no one had 
 spoken, Groucha entered. Her pale face, that was 
 paler than ever, her grey e} r es darkened by her deep 
 emotion, alone betrayed the trouble of her mind. She 
 stood before the three arbiters of her fate. 
 
 " Groucha," said Monsieur Roussof to her, " our 
 friend Father Arsene has come as the bearer of a pro- 
 position which concerns you. Do you wish to marry 
 young Valerien Moutine, who has entrusted him to ask 
 for your hand ? " 
 
M A R K O F . 81 
 
 Agrippine's eyes were veiled with tears for a mo- 
 .merit, then she raised them to her father. 
 
 " It is my wish," she replied, with an assured voice, 
 " with your blessing and my mother's." 
 
 The parents exchanged a look, and her mother tunu-d 
 away to hide her tears. 
 
 " You scarcely know him ; do you believe you could 
 be a good wife to him ? " 
 
 " I believe so," the young girl answered with a shade 
 of pride. 
 
 "Are you very sure of what you say?" her father 
 persisted, alarmed at so firm a decision, which he had 
 been far from expecting. " Then, do you love him ? " 
 
 " I love him." 
 
 "May the Lord be with you then," the father 
 sighed. "You have found your destiny; may you bo 
 happy!" 
 
 The parents blessed their child after the archiman- 
 drite, and then the young betrothed girl sat down 
 beside them, to learn all about what concerned her, all 
 that Valerien's messenger could tell her about the man 
 whom she had so freely chosen. 
 
 The young plrysician was sent for that same day. and 
 at night, at tea-time, Benjamin heard that his sister 
 was going to be married. This news did not produce a 
 very great impression on him; after he learned who was 
 the aspirant to his sister's hand, he declared hi' 
 satisfied, and thought no more about it at the end of 
 an hour's time. 
 
 A little before they were separating for the L 
 Father Arsene approached Groucha, who, calm but 
 5 
 
82 MARK OF. 
 
 more thoughtful than usual, retained her ordinary ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " Do you not think, young girl," said he with a half- 
 smile, " that you owe me some gratitude ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle Roussof s eyes answered eloquently. 
 
 "Well, play me a little music, if you please; that 
 will be my reward." 
 
 The young betrothed went to the piano and played 
 a sonata of Mozart's. This style of music, which is 
 calmer, less passionate than modern music, was the one 
 she preferred when she wished to silence the throb- 
 bings of her heart. When she had finished, Father 
 Arsne thanked her, and each retired, to think over 
 in their own minds the impressions of this day, which 
 had all at once assumed great and unexpected import- 
 ance to them. 
 
 It was rather difficult to employ the two days that 
 were to pass before Vale*rien Moutine's arrival. A 
 certain atmosphere of trouble weighed upon the house, 
 not that the parents were displeased with their daugh- 
 ter at having decided as she had done ; they had acted 
 for themselves in nearly like manner in former times, 
 but they were rather annoyed at not having given 
 more attention to the young man who was going to 
 become their son-in-law. 
 
 " It is always so," said Monsieur Roussof to his wife, 
 who felt this annoyance more deeply than the father. 
 "While waiting, we must occupy ourselves with some- 
 thing: it rains, we cannot take walks easily, let us 
 make Dmiane come with his violin ; that will be enough 
 to interest Father Arse"ne all day to-morrow." 
 
M A R K F . 83 
 
 The next day the priest's two sons were invited to 
 breakfast. Victor's accident, which had so cruelly in- 
 terfered with his projected career, immediately assured 
 him of Father Arsdne's sympathy. 
 
 "What do you think of doing in the future?" he 
 asked the young invalid. 
 
 "What God pleases!" replied the latter, sweetly. 
 " I am not good for much, but I can still help others." 
 
 "Do you feel no desire to enter a monastery?" a 
 Father Arsene, more from habit than from a desire to 
 make a proselyte. 
 
 " No no, your Grace, I am not made for convent 
 life. I have often thought about it; I would ratlin- 
 live with my family, and when Ddmiane marries I will 
 help him to bring up his children. I have a few bonks 
 I work a little from time to time. I think I shall make 
 a suitable tutor for them." 
 
 The archimandrite approved by a movement of his 
 head. 
 
 "And you, young man," said he to Ddmiane, "it is 
 you who are going to enter the priesthood ? " 
 
 Finding himself thus questioned on so delicate a 
 subject, our friend blushed and was embarrassed. lint 
 he had already acquired enough wisdom at the Semi- 
 nary to know how to find an ambiguous answer. 
 
 "I am preparing myself for it," he replied, without 
 daring to raise his eyes. 
 
 Father Arsetoe knew human nature too well not to 
 divine that there was some mystery afloat. 
 
 "Is it by your own free will?" he asked, without 
 seeming to attach any importance to it. 
 
84 MA R K O F . 
 
 De"miane remained silent. 
 
 "Eh?" said the monk, as if he had not heard the 
 young man's answer. 
 
 Making a great effort, the young seminary student 
 raised his eyes and replied frankly : 
 
 " No, Your Grace, it is not of my own free will." 
 
 Father ArsSne looked at him attentively ; the youth 
 pleased him. In the secular clothes that young semi- 
 nary students wear at home during their vacations, he 
 had an exceptional grace and elegance, which the 
 wretched cut of a village tailor could not entirely dis- 
 guise. A black down already shadowed his upper lip, 
 and in spite of Victor's more pensive eyes and thought- 
 ful air, Demiane appeared the elder. 
 
 " One has always a reason for guiding his acts and 
 thoughts," continued the monk without any severity ; 
 " what is the reason that prevents your liking the priest- 
 hood?" 
 
 " They do not wish me to play on the violin," an- 
 swered Demiane, ashamed of giving so bad a reason and 
 incapable of finding any other. 
 
 "Ah! you love the violin like that?" said Father 
 Arsene, more and more interested in the strange fellow. 
 "Will you play me something?" 
 
 The ladies were quite ready, and Demiane began a 
 sonata of Beethoven's with a heart throbbing as he had 
 never known it to throb before. It was the first time 
 that he had an audience, for, until then the persons 
 whom he had known from his childhood had not appeared 
 to listen to him ; and he did not pay any attention to 
 them. A nervous tension made him frown, his black 
 
MARK'OF. 85 
 
 eyes were fixed on the page of music, and with a vigr 
 that surprised those who knew him, he attacked the 
 piece. 
 
 He was no longer the same youth ; the thought that 
 he was playing before a judge, a judge who he felt was 
 well disposed towards him, and who at the same time 
 was cultivated, transformed and gave him wings. His 
 youthful face becoming manly through the power of con- 
 centration, shone like a neophyte's, and truly, atthat 
 hour which was a solemn one to him, Demiane confessed 
 his faith. 
 
 " Why, my boy ! " Monsieur Roussof said when he 
 stopped. "I did not know you could handle a bow 
 like that. You have worked hard since last year." 
 
 "Not at the Seminary, at all events," murmured the 
 young man, half sadly, half smilingly. 
 
 Being questioned he was obliged to relate his misfor- 
 tunes, and he did so with frankness, without hiding 
 his innocent deceit. 
 
 Father Arsene did his best to keep a grave demeanor, 
 but his blue eyes twinkled, and he could not help 
 revealing certain contractions at the corners of his lips 
 in his white beard. 
 
 " It is very wrong," he said, however, " to deceive 
 your superiors." 
 
 " I know it, Your Grace ; but what harm can it do 
 any one if I play the violin ? " 
 
 " The rule, my son, the rule ! We are not to discus 
 it, we submit to it through a spirit of mortification ! 
 
 D<3iniane did not seem to care much about the spirit 
 of mortification, and the archimandrite was convinced 
 
86 MARKOF. 
 
 that this musician would only make a very ordinary 
 servant of the altar; but, as it was not his concern, 
 and as he was not consulted about it, he kept his opinion 
 to himself. 
 
 "Do you not eat fish, Father Arsne?" Madame 
 Roussof said to him during dinner. 
 
 " No, I thank you." 
 
 " It is not, however, a day of fasting and abstinence," 
 the physician insisted. " Why do you refuse what is 
 permitted?" 
 
 " It is an idea of mine," replied the monk smiling. " I 
 have a little system of my own, and to-day, if you will 
 be so kind, you will let me dine on bread and vegetables. 
 But do not let it disturb you ; imagine I have eaten of 
 everything even to committing a sin of gluttony." 
 
 He smiled with so calm an air, and his eyes expressed 
 so much kindness that his wish was respected. After 
 the repast was over, he took Demiane by the ear and 
 led him to the piano. 
 
 " Begin your sonata again, my dear friend," said he 
 to him, " and play it as well as you can." 
 
 Groucha, who was turning over the music book, 
 looked at the monk attentively, and, without raising 
 her voice she said to him respectfully : 
 
 "It was in order to have some music that you 
 deprived yourself of fish, Father Arsene ? " 
 
 " Don't say a word, mademoiselle," he answered, smil- 
 ing ; " do not try to penetrate into anybody's con- 
 science." 
 
 She threw him a glance full of feeling. The thought 
 that this old man had fasted in order to give himself an 
 
M A R K O F . 87 
 
 artistic pleasure without any remorse, compensating 
 thus by a privation for the element of pleasure that 
 entered into his life that day, inspired her with greater 
 veneration for Valerien's friend. She played for him 
 as she had never played for any one, and these two 
 young musicians gave Father ArsSne a concert almost 
 equal to that of a master. 
 
 After the adagio, he arose and motioned with his 
 hand. 
 
 "Enough," said he ; "I thank you." 
 
 " The end of the sonata ! " cried Monsieur Roussof 
 in an imploring tone ; " listen to the end of it ! " 
 
 " No, one must not be a gourmand" replied the old 
 man gently. 
 
 Then he added, regretfully : 
 
 "It would give me too much pleasure; let us be 
 reasonable." 
 
55 MARK OF. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CLASSICAL MUSIC. 
 
 THE next evening Valerien arrived. To say that he 
 was received with open arms would be too bold a 
 metaphor, but Monsieur and Madame Roussof managed 
 nevertheless to show him the necessary cordiality. From 
 the beginning of the very next morning they were won 
 by the affectionate deference shown them by their future 
 son-in-law, by the simple dignity of his bearing toward 
 his affianced bride, and by the filial affection for the 
 archimandrite which his smallest act revealed. After 
 a trial of two days, Groucha's father and mother agreed 
 that none of the young men who had been considered 
 up to that time as possible suitors for their daughter's 
 hand, had united so many qualities ; they had still how- 
 ever to become reconciled to his modest position. On 
 this point Monsieur Roussof was more indulgent than 
 his wife. 
 
 " That is a matter of no consequence whatever," said 
 he, " so long as one has a little more than what is nec- 
 essary. When once one is sure of wanting for nothing, 
 luxury is a thing that one can very w^ell do without, 
 particularly when it is a habit acquired early in life. 
 Groucha has never known what is called luxury ; she 
 will find in her husband's house pretty much what she 
 has had here ; I would not think of pitying her for not 
 possessing more." 
 
M A II K O F . 89 
 
 The marriage was fixed for the 8th of September ; it 
 was near the time of Benjamin's re-entering the < 
 iiiisium in Moscow to continue his studies, and the 
 interval allowed for the completion of Mademoiselle 
 Roussof s trousseau ; the coming event was made known 
 to relatives, friends and neighbors. 
 
 The news did not surprise Victor very much; in 
 "far away" thoughts of the young girl he had fancied 
 he divined something beside clouds driven by the wind- 
 storm ; what troubled him was not the marriage iNelf, 
 but the separation which would be its consequence. 1 1, 
 Avas in vain that he said to himself that every 
 when the Autumn came, Groucha carried away his sun- 
 shine and his joy, and that this year it would not be 
 otherwise, and the idea of seeing her the following 
 for a few weeks, perhaps for a few days only, set- HUM! to 
 him extremely bitter. He did not account for the feel- 
 ings with which the future husband inspired him. but 
 most certainly he did not care to see him near the 
 young girl ; and yet the poor boy was not jealous ; 
 because he realized so thoroughly the abyss which 
 separated him from Valdrien, but he suffered at tin; 
 thought that this happy man would be everything to 
 Groucha, while he poor wretch, would be no longer 
 anything to her. 
 
 As the archimandrite could not long remain away 
 from the monastery, Madame Roussof resolve- 1 <m 
 ing him, once more before his departure, the plea>uiv. 
 of a little good music. Taking advantage of his drives 
 with her husband, she made Ddmiane practi 
 classical piece, and one evening, after dinner, she off 
 it to Father Arsene as a surprise. 
 
90 MAKKOF. 
 
 The latter listened in silence, as lie always did, with 
 his eyes fixed on the instrument, and apparently think- 
 ing only of his musical enjoyment. When the piece 
 was finished, he smiled benevolently. 
 
 " Very well, very well," said he in his gentle voice, 
 weakened by age and fasting, "I thank you, my 
 children. Come here, young man, and tell me if you 
 think one can be happier elsewhere than beneath the 
 shadow of the sanctuary, or in serving another master 
 than the Lord?" 
 
 All eyes were turned toward Demiane, who wished 
 himself on the other side of the wall, in the garden, in 
 the wood, anywhere. An answer had to be given 
 however, and the young musician decided to speak, at 
 the risk of drawing down on himself a reprimand. 
 
 " I do not think," said he, " that to gain one's living 
 honestly, fearing God and serving Him in the measure 
 of one's strength, can be less agreeable to the Lord, 
 than to see an ill-disposed servant in His sanctuary, 
 regretting what he can never obtain." 
 
 Monsieur Roussof looked at Demiane with astonish- 
 ment. Such an answer must have been long thought 
 of and pondered. Decidedly the boy was very clever, 
 and the physician showed his approbation of the speech 
 by a little nod of the head. 
 
 " That is true, very true," said Father Arsene, no 
 less surprised. " And your father wishes you to be a 
 priest." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Have you told him that your wishes are opposed to 
 his?" 
 
M A R K O F . 91 
 
 " I have not dared to do so." 
 
 The archimandrite reflected for a moment, thru 
 addressing himself in a low tone to Madame Roussof, 
 he begged her to send for Father Kouzma. 
 
 De*miane overheard, and gently drawing near the 
 monk he furtively kissed the sleeve of his habit. 
 
 " You think at the very least," said Father Arse*ne, 
 pinching his ear, " that I am going to tell your father 
 not to send you back to the Seminary ? " 
 
 " A wish from you would be an order for him ! " 
 replied D^miane, with downcast eyes and his breast 
 rising and falling in the excess of emotion. 
 
 " That is a mistake," said the monk, sighing; "we of 
 the Hack clergy have no authority over the priests, who 
 are the white clergy : the bishops, it is true, are taken 
 from our ranks, and they can command the priests; 
 but those who like me live in monasteries have no 
 influence, unless they are ambitious." 
 
 " And you are not ambitious, Father Arsene ? " 
 asked Monsieur Roussof, smiling. 
 
 " Ah ! Heavens ! no. I was so formerly, when I 
 wore a uniform. You see what epaulettes I obtained ! 1 
 answered the monk, pointing to the folds of the black 
 veil which floated over his shoulders. 
 
 Father Kouzma now entered. His character had 
 become embittered since the misfortune which had 
 fallen on Victor, and he avoided the Roussof s house, 
 which, moreover, he had never frequented very much. 
 Russian priests fully realize that they are only held in 
 esteem on account of their sacred character, and then 
 only when they are arrayed in their stole. This con- 
 
92 M A R K O F . 
 
 tempt for the poorly instructed man, of common man- 
 ners, forms a striking contrast to the veneration which 
 the minister of God inspires, and is one of the charac- 
 teristic marks of Russian society. When in church, 
 the priest holds out the crucifix to the people the 
 greatest lady, in order to set an example to the 
 peasants, will kiss respectfully the hand of the offici- 
 ating clergyman who holds the cross, and for nothing 
 in the world, an hour after, would she give her hand in 
 the English fashion to the same man who will bow 
 before her with a respect sometimes somewhat servile. 
 
 The young men were sent away : the archimandrite 
 then had a long conversation with his hosts and the 
 Priest; the latter was stubborn, as are all men who 
 keep their ideas for themselves alone, and it was 
 impossible to make him hear reason. 
 
 " It is the finger of God which has marked Ddmiane 
 for the priesthood," he repeated, without listening to 
 the slightest objection ; " the day of the accident I was 
 asking myself what could be done with the boy, and 
 the answer from Heaven came immediately; at the 
 same moment Victor was brought back to me in the 
 state you know of. How can the will of Providence 
 be disregarded in this ? " 
 
 When men make use of the decrees of Providence as 
 a reason for carrying out their own caprices, it is quite 
 useless to contend with them ; the battle is lost before- 
 hand, and the three friends of the young violinist were 
 obliged to renounce their plan. 
 
 "It must be as you please, Father Kouzma," said 
 Monsieur Roussof finally ; " you are the master, and if 
 
M A R K O F . 93 
 
 the Father Archimandrite, your Superior in orders, 
 although officially he has no power over you, can- 
 not bring you to his way of thinking, it would l>e 
 useless for me to give my opinion afterward. But if 
 any misfortune arises out of all this, if some day your 
 son refuses to obey you, in spite of my respect for M in- 
 character, in spite of the friendship which for twenty 
 years I have borne the officiating priest of this parish, 
 I warn you that I shall be on Ddmiane's side and not 
 on yours." 
 
 Father Kouzma rose without saying a word, bowed 
 respectfully to the assembled company and was about 
 to take leave, when a gesture of the archimandrite 
 detained him. 
 
 "Monsieur Roussof has spoken to you with frank- 
 ness, with too much frankness, perhaps," said he ; " it 
 does not become us to judge between father and son ; 
 but I assure you that you wrong your child less in 
 obliging him to follow a career for which he feels no 
 fitness, than by preventing him from giving himself to 
 music, for which Providence has so visibly qualified 
 him." 
 
 "He was appointed by the will of the Lord,*' 
 replied the Priest coldly. " I am the most humble 
 servant of Your Grace and of Your Lordship." 
 
 He retired majestically, followed, as soon as the 
 door was shut on him, by an exclamation that Mon- 
 sieur Roussof, out of deference to the archimandrite, 
 changed into : 
 
 " Stubborn old man ! " 
 
 " We will help the young fellow to the liberty they 
 refuse him, will we not, Father ArsSne ? " 
 
94 M A R K O F . 
 
 " Hush ! " said the latter, putting his finger on his lips 
 "We must not foment rebellion in the son against the 
 father ; it is a grievous sin, and contrary to the fourth 
 commandment." 
 
 "Without doubt," replied the physician, perfectly 
 serious ; " but the standard of revolt once raised, I am 
 capable of helping the cause; Father Archimandrite 
 you cannot excommunicate me for this deed, for, aftei 
 all, it is a personal matter, and I am not the son 01 
 Father Kouzma." 
 
 The good monk could not help smiling, but he madt 
 a gesture of reproach ; nevertheless Monsieur EoussoJ 
 remained persuaded that for the future De*miane hac 
 two allies. 
 
M A R K O F . 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A PROTECTOR FOR DEMI AXE. 
 
 IF Ddmiane did not have his ears pulled that day, it 
 was because when he went home with Victor 
 everybody had been in bed for a long time. The mu-i<; 
 had lasted until very late, and every one had seemed to 
 enjoy it so much, that, rather than disturb the festivi- 
 ties by retiring, Father Arse"ne had preferred imposing 
 on himself two days of secret abstinence to compen- 
 sate for this excess of worldly pleasure. But the 
 morning at dawn of day the young man receiv* 
 sound lecture. 
 
 " If I did not think that it would bring me annoy- 
 ances," concluded Father Kouzma, after a discourse in 
 which he had given proof of unusual eloquence, "I 
 would forbid you. to return to the manor, and I would 
 light the fire with your ill-fated violin! But it is I 
 again who would be in the wrong, and 1 do not u'i.-h to 
 have any reproaches on your account. You will return 
 to the Seminary after the vacation, your violin will 
 disappear forever, and next year there will be no ques- 
 tion concerning it." 
 
 De'miane, quivering, listened to his sentence without 
 saying a word; he knew that it was usel< 
 with his father; as much firmness as the latt. 
 in the ordinary acts of his life, so much obstinac;. 
 he show when he had decided on anything, taking 
 
96 MARKOF. 
 
 stubbornness then for strength. When Father Kouzma 
 had finished his discourse, his son left him with the 
 outward forms of respect, and with the implacable reso- 
 lution of never re-entering the Seminary. 
 
 Instead of taking Victor for confidant, as would 
 have seemed natural, he slipped round mysteriously to 
 Monsieur Roussof on the following Saturday, while his 
 father was celebrating the evening service. The only 
 people who generally attend this service are those 
 attached to the church, and a few idlers, who are both 
 aged and infirm, and who have nothing to do on that 
 day, and such are rare in civilized countries. The 
 Lord in ordaining Sunday as a day of rest, provided 
 every one with plenty of work for Saturday night. 
 Madame Roussof, like a good housekeeper, was devot- 
 ing herself to mysterious work in the depths of cup- 
 boards and closets in the pantry and in the linen-room ; 
 Benjamin was making a kite, which somehow always 
 refused to fly, and the young man found the physician 
 in his study ; he alone did not seem to suspect that it 
 was Saturday evening, and that he ought to apply him- 
 self to some unusual duties. 
 
 " Is that you, Ddmiane ? " said Monsieur Roussof. 
 " Were you well scolded the other day ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the young musician. 
 
 " Your father has forbidden you to play the violin ? " 
 
 " Not during this summer ; but after you leave, there 
 will be an end of it, I shall never see my instrument 
 again." 
 
 Monsieur Roussof played nervously with the paper- 
 knife that was near his hand, and answered without 
 looking at him : 
 
M A R K O F . 97 
 
 "Well, very well." 
 
 He then became silent, and remained so, so long that 
 it last they both raised their heads simultaneously and 
 looked at each otlra*. 
 
 "Does that please you?" asked the physician, who 
 read something unusual in the youth's eyes. 
 
 " No, sir, it does not please me." 
 
 " What do you want to do then ? " 
 
 " I want to ask you, what I can do, how I can gain 
 my living, in order to continue studying music, for I 
 have no intention of returning to the Seminary." 
 
 "Ah!" said the physician with a sigh, which might. 
 pass for one of relief, "and you have announced your 
 intention to your father ? " 
 
 "No, sir, and I do not wish to speak of it to him; it 
 is not worth while." 
 
 "Very well! And you have come to ask me to hrlp 
 you to disobey your father and to take flight ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir. It is you who taught me music, it is you 
 who gave me my violin, and I do not suppose that you 
 will forsake me in a moment of trial." 
 
 "Capital! and your father, what will he say when' 
 you are gone ? " 
 
 " He will be very much displeased, I know, but what 
 would you have me do ? " 
 
 " I ! Nothing at all, my boy ! And if he blames me ? " 
 
 "You will be in Moscow, Monsieur R.n . >f, and as 
 for that, there is no need for you to say that you ha\e 
 helped me." 
 
 "That's true, a benefactor should be modest; that id 
 only too true. And you have arranged all that?" 
 6 
 
98 M A R K O F . 
 
 " I thought that you had some affection for me, sir, 
 and that you took an interest in my music." 
 
 " Better and better. And your brother, what does 
 he say to these fine projects ? " 
 
 " He says that you will help me to find a place where 
 I can gain my living, until I can make money by my 
 violin." 
 
 Monsieur Roussof put down his paper-knife, leaned 
 back in his arm-chair and smiled to himself. This was 
 entirely what he had foreseen, only he had not hoped 
 to find so much resolution and simple dignity in the 
 young boy. He expected that Demiane would ask him 
 for the means of living and not for the means of earning 
 his own bread. 
 
 " Very well, my friend," said he in quite a different 
 tone of voice from that which he had used before, 
 "you can rely on me. As you say, it was I who 
 taught you to love music ; for the time being, it is 
 a poor service that I have rendered you, as it places 
 you in opposition to your father; but later, it may per- 
 haps prove an advantage. I hope that then you will 
 remember it, as you have done to-day. Do you under- 
 stand me ? " 
 
 44 Yes, Sir, answered Demiane," overcome with joy. 
 
 44 Well, now you must do as if I had said nothing to 
 you; do not worry yourself, try not to irritate your 
 father unnecessarily, and when the time has arrived, we 
 will have another conversation together. Until then, 
 it is useless for us to speak again of your projects." 
 
 Ddmiane remained motionless. The word thanks 
 seemed to him very common-place, and he wished to 
 
M ARKOF. 99 
 
 express his gratitude at any price. While the physician 
 was looking at him, astonished at his silence and com- 
 posure, the young man suddenly caught sight of a 
 photograph on the table of Groucha and her brother 
 when children, holding each other's hands. He took it, 
 kissed it twice passionately, then replaced it saying: 
 
 " I thank you, sir ! Good night ! " 
 
 He went out, and Monsieur Roussof, tete-a-tete \vitli 
 his new decision, even while saying to himself that In- 
 had just taken a great burden on himself, could not 
 help thinking that Ddmiane had no ordinary mind. 
 But in order not to be interfered with, he spoke of 
 what had passed only to his wife, and no one about them 
 had the least suspicion of the young man's plan. 
 
100 M A R K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A CALLING. 
 
 QEPTEMBER arrived very earl}' that year, much 
 k_? sooner than on the preceding years, and it took 
 everyone in Gradovka by surprise. The re-opening of 
 the schools, the marriage of Groucha, the supposed 
 departure of Ddmiane for the Seminary, all fell at once 
 on the heads of the different people interested therein, 
 and Vale'rien Moutine was probably the only one who 
 did not think that the marriage day had come too 
 soon. 
 
 The wedding took place very quietly; it was the 
 virtuous marriage of people who love one another, and 
 who contrary to the received customs in such cases 
 seemed to feel no need of inspiring those around them 
 with feelings of ill-will. The bride looked very well, 
 the bridegroom sufficiently pale ; Madame Roussof did 
 not have a new dress for the occasion, a fact which 
 provoked some few criticisms among her country 
 neighbors ; Father Kouzma delivered a very correct ad- 
 dress which he found in the collection of sermons, and 
 which had only been made use of twice during forty 
 years, because it was applicable to the nobles and not 
 to the peasants. The banquet was very grand. There 
 were fifty-two people at one large table and no small 
 table, which saved the pride of every one. All retired 
 satisfied, a state of mind which had perhaps never been 
 
M A KK O F . 101 
 
 known before in Europe, and certainly never in the 
 " government." 
 
 Two days after the marriage Vale*rien took his wife 
 away, and then, without any one's knowing why, 
 Gradovka became silent and empty. Yet Grouoha did 
 not talk much, and moved about still less ; but her 
 presence was the charm of the house, and every one 
 became aware of it as soon as she departed. 
 
 Victor took the announcement of his friend's mar- 
 riage very philosophically; moreover this marriage 
 did not materially change his relations with her ; if she 
 had remained there with her husband, he would probabl v 
 have transferred to the young man a part of the affect i< >n 
 which he felt for her, and he would have included them 
 both in his devotion. No thought of jealousy could 
 enter Victor's mind. What was he, poor sickly crea- 
 ture, cut off from the number, not of the living, but of 
 those who love, who hope, who succeed, in comparison 
 with Mademoiselle Roussof, now Madame Moutine. 
 
 But when she was gone, the poor boy felt an intoler- 
 able ennui. Mechanically he turned his steps to the 
 garden hedge, from which he had been in the habit of 
 watching her coming and going, and taking care of the 
 flowers and plants with a solicitude whi-h the gardener 
 found alarming to his peace of mind. But it was all 
 in vain! the flowers could now stretch out their stalks 
 in every direction for sun or water, since no one now 
 took care of them ! Every hour, twenty times a 
 he would say to himself: Mademoiselle Roussof must 
 be playing the piano, reading at the window, or working 
 in the garden he would listen, turning his head in the 
 
102 
 
 M ARKO F. 
 
 accustomed direction but he neither heard nor saw 
 anything which could be even a semblance of his 
 absent friend. 
 
 "You are bored, are you not? " said his brother one 
 day when he saw him returning with drooping head 
 from one of these pilgrimages to the hedge. 
 
 Victor caught in the act, blushed and tried to excuse 
 the insurmountable ennui which could be read on his 
 face. 
 
 "Do not excuse yourself," answered Ddmiane, "it is 
 quite natural, and Mademoiselle Roussof was more your 
 friend than mine ; I was of too little consequence, and 
 yet since she has gone, I see how much the house is 
 changed. True, Madame Roussof plays a little music 
 with me, but she has no longer heart for anything, and 
 it is not at all the same." 
 
 The two brothers were walking slowly beside the 
 pond. De*miane seized Victor's arm : 
 
 " Listen," said he in a low voice, " do you remember 
 that on this very spot I told you that I would not 
 return to the Seminary ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, I will not return to it. Monsieur Roussof 
 has promised to find me some means of earning my 
 living. Will you come with me? " 
 
 "De*rniane, you are losing your senses! You are 
 going away in a week ! " 
 
 " Precisely ; but I shall not go to the Seminary, I 
 shall go to Moscow; come with me, we will work 
 together, we shall earn enough to eat dry bread, and 
 we shall be as free as air ! " 
 
MARK OF. 103 
 
 " I do not know how to do anything ! '* murmured 
 Victor, piteously. 
 
 "You know enough Slavonian, Latin, and Sacred 
 History to give lessons to little children, at any rate ! " 
 
 " They would laugh at me " 
 
 " I should like to see that ! " cried Demiane, his eyes 
 flashing with anger and tossing his vigorous arms above 
 his head. "I should like to see the little \vretdics 
 laugh at my good Victor, because he fell from a tree." 
 
 Full of energy and valor, he looked as if he were 
 preparing to right with the future pupils of his brother; 
 the latter cooled his ardor by a very simple question : 
 
 "Has our father given you permission to go to 
 Moscow ?" 
 
 De'miane's fire was quenched, and in a perfectly calm 
 tone of voice he answered: 
 
 " I have not spoken to him about it." 
 
 Victor sighed; it was a habit which he had taken 
 from his father. 
 
 " But," continued De*miane, " I am perfectly sure he 
 would refuse." 
 
 "Well, then?" 
 
 " In that case, I shall go without his permission." 
 
 Victor raised his hands to Heaven, but Heaven must 
 be accustomed to this gesture, for it does not pay much 
 attention to it. 
 
 " And you will come with me ? " 
 
 "My dear Demiane, do not ask that of me! I 
 cannot disobey our father, nor be in disgrace. As for 
 you, you have for excuse your thwarted love of music, 
 but I " 
 
104 
 
 M A R K O F . 
 
 "You will have for excuse your friendship for me 
 and the isolation into which I am going to be plunged. 
 Only think, Victor, all alone in that great Moscow, 
 where I know no one. I shall be very sad and for- 
 saken ! If you come, we two will form a little family, 
 and from time to time we can go and see Monsieur 
 Roussof; they will perhaps invite us to dine on Sun- 
 days, and then you know that Madame Moutine has 
 promised to pass the Christmas fetes with her parents. 
 Then we shall have fine music." 
 
 Victor liked music very well, but he liked Madame 
 Moutine still better, and his brother's argument left 
 him without defence, nevertheless his good sense 
 inspired him with one objection. 
 
 "Without doubt," said he, "but if our father is angry 
 with us, we shall not be able to come back here next 
 summer, and for having had music during a week at 
 Christmas with Mademoiselle Roussof with Madame 
 Moutine, I mean we shall be deprived of our vacation 
 during the whole summer." 
 
 " Bah! " said Ddmiane, with that Russian wave of the 
 hand which can be construed to mean come what will ! 
 "The summer is so far off! whereas, I would have to go 
 to the Seminary in a week's time. You will not come ? " 
 
 "I cannot, Demiane!" replied the poor boy, ready to 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " As you please," answered his brother, coldly, and 
 he turned his back on him. This was a manner of 
 acting which Victor was incapable of resisting ; he ran 
 after Demiane and put his hand on his arm with a 
 tenderness that would have melted a rock. 
 
M A R K O F . 105 
 
 "And if our father curses us, my brother," said lie, 
 so moved that he could hardly speak. 
 
 "You are afraid of sharing my lot, you wish t<> 
 remain at home, loved and petted, while I, disgra. < -d 
 and disinherited, go to seek my fortune all alone. Ymi 
 do well, and your choice is the wisest ; therefore, I do 
 not blame you," answered Ddmiane, carelessly. , 
 
 "Our father would be so grieved!" exclaimed 
 Victor, heavy-hearted. 
 
 "And I, do you not think that it is a grief to me to 
 be made to follow a career which is distasteful to me, 
 to be deprived of my violin which is as necessary to nm 
 as bread and salt? Do you imagine that it is for my 
 pleasure that I am going to live as poor as Job for 
 several years, instead of peaceably growing fat in 'the 
 Seminary where really one at first is very well fed and 
 well treated, and where one has not much to do; and 
 afterwards, in a pretty parsonage, with my family 
 around me ? If you imagine that it is from idleness or 
 selfishness that I prefer leaving my family, ruining 
 my future and grieving my father, you are mistaken, 
 Victor." 
 
 " But what is it then? " asked the cripple, astonished 
 by this vehemence. 
 
 " Brother," replied De*miane, gravely, " I think it is 
 what is termed a calling." 
 
 Victor was silent. Calling, for him, was a word to 
 be applied solely to things religious, and he did not 
 quite understand its meaning applied to a profane art 
 like music. His brother perceived this. 
 
 " You know," he continued with the same seriousness 
 
106 MARK OF. 
 
 which contrasted so strangely with the vehement tone 
 and childish violence of his preceding words, "you 
 have learned how the martyrs suffered themselves to be 
 torn to pieces by the wild beasts for their faith, how 
 the missionaries went forth into wild countries to con- 
 vert the heathen; why did they do it ? Because they 
 were urged forward by a power over which they had 
 no control ; they preferred to be devoured by the lions 
 and slain by the savages to living quietly and doing 
 only what was easy and agreeable. That is what 
 is termed a calling. Well, I I would rather live 
 miserably for ten years, yes, Victor, for ten years, 
 hardly earning my bread, wearing thread-bare clothes, 
 and not daring to go to any one's house, because I shall 
 be too poor ; I had rather, if needs be, suffer the pangs 
 of hunger and die on my violin, than be a priest and 
 renounce music." 
 
 His face was transfigured while he was thus speaking ; 
 his pale lips made the down which overshadowed them 
 seem blacker, and his eyes flashed ; he had drawn him- 
 self up and his slender figure towered a whole head 
 above his brother's bent body. The latter looked at 
 him with timid admiration, then with touching submis- 
 sion, and with infinite tenderness in his voice, he said 
 to him, gently: 
 
 " My brother, I believe you; since it is to share your 
 misery and your sufferings, I will do as you wish." 
 
 De'miane pressed him warmly to his broad chest 
 without saying a word, then they turned homeward. 
 
MARKOF. 107 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A RUNAWAY. 
 
 PARACHA was packing her brother's trunk as he 
 was to leave the next day, and while piling 
 up the shirts and stockings, the practical reflection 
 occurred to her mind that this trunk was altogether 
 too large. It should have been left for her, for 
 women's clothes take up much more room than those 
 of men, every one knows; what was the use of this 
 large trunk, in which everything would be tossed 
 about? 
 
 "It is one of Ddmiane's notions to have asked 
 mamma for this one, who does not know how to refuse 
 him anything ! He pretends that it will be more con- 
 venient for him to sit upon. What an idea ? " 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders, and in order to protest 
 against the size of the trunk, she leaned with all her 
 might on the stockings and shirts, in order to make 
 them fit into the little corners. Paracha was ratlin- 
 out of sorts with everybody and everything. Why did 
 she have brothers? If she had been the only child, 
 no fate could have been happier than hers. Her t\vo 
 brothers in coming after her, had literally cut away the 
 ground from beneath her feet. 
 
 And then their house was such a dull one! Her 
 father never had time to pay any attention to her. 
 Would he not do better to seek a husband for her, than 
 
108 MARK OF. 
 
 to scold Demiane the whole day long. To scold De*- 
 miane had, indeed, become for Father Kouzma a regu- 
 lar occupation, a sort of daily duty which he performed 
 with extraordinary bitterness, arid he reproached him- 
 self with not having done it sooner, and endeavored by 
 the number of his present lectures to make amends for 
 the negligence of past times. His son received these 
 lectures with a submission which nevertheless somewhat 
 surprised Father Kouzma, accustomed as he was to 
 rebellions which never exposed themselves, but were 
 easy to be guessed. In former days Ddmiane would 
 listen with drooping head and crimson cheeks, and the 
 hands which hung open at his sides would quiver with 
 impatience ; the lecture ended, he would bow to his 
 father, kiss his hand hastily, and go off as quickly as 
 possible. Now he would listen to these interminable 
 reprimands with immovable patience, sometimes lifting 
 his eyes to the preacher with a novel expression of 
 gentleness and interest ; he seemed to be trying to draw 
 the greatest possible profit from these reproaches min- 
 gled with advice, the whole enforced by threats, so 
 much so, that more than once his father asked him if 
 he understood him clearly. 
 
 The fact is that Ddmiane, having made up his mind 
 to leave the paternal roof and to escape from the fate 
 which they had prepared for him, by one of those 
 changes natural enough in a character like his, wished to 
 leave a pleasant memory behind him and to carry away 
 as many good counsels and good thoughts as he could. 
 His mischievous spirits were quieted, and for more than 
 a month neither his mother nor the maid-servant were 
 
MARKOF. 109 
 
 obliged to reproach him with any escapade in the private 
 domains of the household; he was respectful to his 
 parents, affectionate to the poor and lowly of the 
 village, as if he desired to make himself regretted, and 
 that was indeed what he wished, counting on the indul- 
 gence which the recollection of these last days would 
 call forth on his behalf. He was even smiling and ami- 
 able with his sister, although this was certainly the 
 most difficult part of his self-imposed task. 
 
 Another trial which cost him a constant effort over 
 himself was Victor's despondent manner; often he 
 would repeat to him that his tearful appearance would 
 betray their secret ; the poor boy was incapable of con- 
 trolling himself. The thought of leaving perhaps for- 
 ever, so dear a home, and such good parents, would 
 bring tears to his eyes and overwhelm his mind with 
 sorrow. If any one had the least suspicion of the 
 3 T oung men's project Victor would have betrayed it to 
 him a hundred times a day. Happily no one thought 
 of such a thing. 
 
 While Paracha was bestowing her regrets on the too 
 large trunk which might have been put to a better usr, 
 Demiane went to Monsieur Roussof to bid him good- 
 bye. In reality, although he had prepared everything 
 for his flight, it was absolutely impossible for him to 
 effect it, seeing that he and his brother between them 
 could not raise two roubles. In spite of his confidence 
 in the physician's promise, Demiane was very much agi- 
 tated when he entered his study. 
 
 " Good morning," said Monsieur Roussof, who was 
 reading the newspaper, "you have come to bid me 
 good-bye." 
 
110 MARKOF. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the young man boldly, encour- 
 aged by the tone, not by the words. 
 
 " You are going to-morrow to the Seminary ? " 
 
 " Unless you decide otherwise, sir." 
 
 The physician began to laugh. This way of remind- 
 ing him of his engagements was very much to his 
 taste. 
 
 " You never asked me if I remembered our conver- 
 sation ?" said he in a tone of interrogation. 
 
 " Of what use would it have been, sir ? If you 
 remembered it, there was no need of speaking of it ; if 
 you had forgotten it, of what use would it be to remind 
 you of a thing which had not been sufficiently interest- 
 ing to engrave itself on your memory ?/' 
 
 " Zounds ! what argumentative powers ! It seems to 
 me that you would have made progress at the Seminary ! 
 What if we sent you back there ?" 
 
 " It shall be as you say, sir, it depends entirely on 
 you," answered Demiane resignedly. 
 
 " Well, I have decided that you are to give four les- 
 sons a week in Moscow, at the house of one of my 
 friends who wishes his two sons to learn to play the 
 violin ; you will not be paid very much, you will have 
 fifteen roubles a month for the four lessons; that is 
 not brilliant, but small streams make large rivers. 
 Besides this you will help Benjamin to prepare his tasks 
 for the Gymnasium, for you know he is as lazy as a 
 dormouse ; that will take you four or five evenings a 
 week, and I will also give you fifteen roubles, which 
 will make thirty. Do you think that you can live on 
 a rouble a day ?" 
 
MARKOF. Ill 
 
 "I do not know, sir; I think that I can, for 1 a in 
 determined to bear everything. I thank you with all 
 my heart for your kindness ; but the duty of making 
 Benjamin prepare his lessons, will answer much better 
 for Victor than for me, and I beg that you will reserve 
 it for him. I will look out for something else." 
 
 "Victor!" cried Monsieur Roussof ; " what, have you 
 enticed Victor to go away also ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered D^miane, with a slight smile of 
 triumph. 
 
 " Then you are without a home, now ; as if it were 
 not enough for one of you ! But we only agreed on 
 one ! And then your father, what will he say ? " 
 
 " You will tell him, sir, when we have gone, that I 
 have taken Victor as a safe-guard. Victor is so good, 
 so gentle, so pure, so noble-minded, so wedded to his 
 duties, that as long as he is with me, no misfortune can 
 happen to me. Victor will give me good advice, he is 
 economical, handy " 
 
 " He will make an excellent housekeeper, I do not 
 doubt," concluded Monsieur Roussof. " After all, it is 
 a good idea; but the blow will be a hard one for 
 Father Kouzma ! " 
 
 "You will soften it to him, sir," said Demiane 
 gently. "It is you who will let him know that I 
 could not resist an imperative call " 
 
 " And it is I who am charged with the errand into 
 the bargain? Tell me, my boy, you are laughing at 
 me, are you not ? " 
 
 " If you do not do it, sir, whom would you have do 
 it ? It is so natural that it should be you, that if you 
 
112 MARKOF. 
 
 refuse, he will see immediately that you have helpe< 
 me." 
 
 " Heavens ! how acute you are ! " exclaimed Mon 
 sieur Roussof, surprised by this good sense. "Yoi 
 two together are going to rouse the world ! " 
 
 " I hope so ! " answered the proud smile of tin 
 young man, but his lips remained mute. 
 
 " That changes my plans," resumed the physician 
 " I put twenty-five roubles into this envelope, to take 
 you to Moscow, and to help you to start fair ; you 
 must have fifty here they are ; but be economical 
 both of you, for I am not rich." 
 
 " It is a loan, sir," answered De*miane proudly, 
 thank you for being kind enough to be the creditor o 
 a poor devil like myself, but I will repay you as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 " So be it, my friend, it is a loan if you prefer it, 
 have no objection, although that was not my intention 
 I suppose however you are not going to offer me a 
 promissory note." 
 
 "No, sir, my word is as good as my bond." 
 
 " Come ; that's all right. What a queer boy you are ! 
 And your violin, how are you going to carry it away ? " 
 
 "That's Victor's affair. He has promised me to 
 stow it away somewhere." 
 
 " He is commencing to play his part of housekeeper ? 
 You lose no time, I see. And how are you going to 
 carry him off?" 
 
 "He has asked permission to take me to the Post 
 Station. Instead of coming back with our horse, he 
 will continue on the road with me. The peasant who 
 
MARK OF. 113 
 
 brings back the telega, will bring you a note from me 
 announcing our departure." 
 
 "You make me think of Augustus before tin- -bat tin 
 of Actium ! I admire you! In a week, we >hall all bo 
 together in Moscow. Go and take leave of lienjamin, 
 and do not tell him that Victor is to make liim work this 
 winter ; he is incapable of keeping a secret for more than 
 five minutes. I am delighted that it \\ill he V! 
 you would have made but a sorry tutor, when 
 has that gift, the gift of patience above all. .1 ' 
 revoir, my friend, and a pleasant journey to you.* 1 
 
 When Paraeha, who left the trunk to go and ta] 
 cup, or rather several cups of tea. came baek to pv- it 
 a last look, she wac surprised tu iind that it seemed to 
 have become singularly smaller in the in>ido. The 
 things were just where she plaeed them, but they n>w 
 filled the space which before had been left empty 
 between their level and the lid of the trunk. Victor, 
 who was standing leaning against the window, was 
 looking at it with an air of indifference. 
 
 u What have you crammed in there ? " asked 1 
 cha, indignant at the thought that her handiwork was 
 tampered with. 
 
 "Manuscripts of Sacred History which I have 1< 
 to Ddmiane, all my old Seminary exercises; i 
 a whole pile, and I have put them underneath, not to 
 disturb your nice arrangement.' 1 
 
 "You do very wrong to encourage him in his idle- 
 ness;* grumbled Paracha. "Hell n.-v.-r die of 
 work. You have nothing else to put That's 
 
 fortunate, at any rate/' 
 7 
 
114 MARKOF. 
 
 In her ill humor, she shut the trunk energetically, 
 making the lock jingle, for all the locks of trunks 
 belonging to the lower classes are musical, and the 
 more sonorous they are, the more they cost ; then she 
 gave the key to Victor. 
 
 " There, give it to that good-for-nothing, I have 
 something else to do than to busy myself about his 
 clothes all day long ! " 
 
 And she went on her way to more agreeable duties, 
 because they were devoted to the embellishment of her 
 own person. 
 
 The following day, near twelve o'clock, after a quick 
 repast, De'rniane drew near to Father Kouzma to ask 
 for his blessing. The telega was before the door, and 
 harnessed to it was the horse which served the priest 
 for farming purposes, and another hired for the oc- 
 casion ; the proprietor of the latter was to act as 
 coachman until they reached the Post Station, where 
 the stage-coach passed which took them to the Semi- 
 nary. Father Kouzma had no intention of scolding 
 his son on that day, having complied with that duty 
 the previous evening in such a way* as to be able to 
 rest for some time. He blessed his child and embraced 
 him with more than usual tenderness. The excellent 
 behavior of the young man during these last days had 
 softened his heart towards him. Demiane was very 
 pale; this unwonted gentleness inspired him with an 
 emotion that he had much difficulty in mastering ; he 
 did not dare to look either at his mother or at Victor, 
 and his project came near ending in smoke, for he was 
 perlmps about to confess all and beg pardon, when his 
 
MARK OF. 115 
 
 father, considering that he had forgotten a part of his 
 duty, said in a severe tone : 
 
 " And above all, no more music." 
 
 "Good-bye, father; good-bye, mother;" answered 
 De'miane in a voice that had become firm again. "You 
 are coming with me, Victor?" 
 
 Victor advanced to his father, to receive his blessing 
 also. The priest, somewhat surprised, seemed to ask 
 him the meaning of this pious zeal. 
 
 " Me, as well as De'miane, my father," said the poor 
 boy, ashamed of his deceit, and more unhappy than if 
 he were the greatest criminal. 
 
 "So be it," said Father Kouzma, blessing his eldest 
 son. " Do not be belated, the night comes so quickly." 
 
 "Good-bye," repeated both sons, already on the 
 threshold of the door. 
 
 They got into the telega, the peasant whipped his 
 horse, they passed the gate at the entrance to the vil- 
 lage, waved their hands for the last time to the grey 
 houses, and then looked at one another, hardly daring 
 to believe in the success of their enterprise. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Victor, regretfully, " I have for- 
 gotten something." 
 
 "What?" asked his brother anxiously, "the violin?" 
 
 " No, it is in the trunk, and we are sitting on it. I 
 forgot to bid Paracha good-bye." 
 
 "Oh, well! there is no great harm done," said 
 D^miane, laughing. "And then, it is a good sign 
 when one forgets something. It is a sign that one 
 return." 
 
116 
 
 M A RK O F. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE MONASTEBY. 
 
 next morning, the diligence deposited in the 
 
 dust of M , the two young travellers, who 
 
 were worn out with fatigue and consumed with anxiety, 
 Should they think of coming after them, what woul 
 become of these flown birds ? It was with the mannei 
 of conspirators that they left the post-station while 
 their travelling companions were taking a detestable 
 repast and they set out for the Monastery. 
 
 44 And suppose the Father archimandrite turns 
 away from the door?" said Victor, who was always 
 inclined to look at the dark side of things. 
 
 " We will go away," replied Demiane. 
 
 He was the one who had acquired Groucha's opti 
 ism, while his brother became more and more alarmed. 
 
 Ddmiane's legs took more rapid strides than Victor's 
 he perceived it and slackened his gait, passing hi 
 brother's arm in his own. 
 
 " See," said he, " the weather is fine, the sunshin 
 accompanies us ; my heart is full of song ! All th 
 tunes of my violin are dancing in my head ! " 
 
 They soon reached the Monastery and were receive 
 in the pilgrim's house by a lay brother, with a welcon 
 ing face. Every Monastery possesses its pilgrim 
 house, which is situated at one of the angles of th 
 quadrilateral formed by the convent grounds. Thos 
 
M ARKOF. 117 
 
 who stop in the town and cannot pay to go to an inn, 
 and the sick and the weary, are welcomed there, provi- 
 ded they have an honest appearance, and, according t. 
 their social position, they obtain a place in the dormi- 
 tory on a pine board, or are given a room to themx-h es, 
 in accordance with the steward's orders. Those who 
 have nothing to eat are fed by the monks; the others 
 take their meals as they choose, either sending for 
 them from without, or else preparing them thenix-lves. 
 The sick apply to the pharmacy of the Monastery, ami 
 are most generally cured in a few days, their chirf 
 ailment being fatigue. 
 
 Ddmiane wrote on a small piece of paper: " D.'i:. 
 Markof, an humble sinner, presents himself to the 
 Father archimandrite to ask for his blessing," and sent 
 it to be taken to the interior of the convent. Five min- 
 utes afterwards, the brother reappeared, laughing in 
 spite of himself, doubtless at something he had ju>t 
 heard. 
 
 "This way, my young gentleman," said he,Openi] 
 door that led into the garden. "You will find the 
 Father archimandrite at the end of the walk." 
 
 Reassured by this jovial reception, wliirh > mod a 
 good augury for him, Ddmiane dragged Victor umh-r 
 the birch trees, which were already shorn of tin -ir 
 leaves and which formed a long avenue leading to the 
 church, and to a semi-circular terrace that overlooked 
 the whole valley of the Bdrdsina, where, in truth, tht-y 
 found Father Arsene. 
 
 Ddmiane approached slowly; at the sight of his 
 judge, all his assurance forsook him ; not that the old 
 
118 M ARKO F, 
 
 man looked cross, but his light-blue eyes seemed to 
 penetrate so far into the young musician's conscience, 
 that he felt himself in fault and realized for the first 
 time the responsibility he had undertaken in bringing 
 his brother with him. 
 
 He wished to kiss the monk's hand and to receive his 
 blessing, but the latter raising it kept him at a dis- 
 tance, and the questioning, so much dreaded by Victor, 
 began with some solemnity : 
 
 " Whence do you come, young man ? " 
 
 " From my father's house, Your Grace." 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 " To Moscow." 
 
 " With Father Kouzma's permission ? " 
 
 " Without it, Your Grace." 
 
 "Does Monsieur Roussof know it?" 
 
 " He does, Your Grace ; he told me to present his 
 compliments to you, and to tell his daughter as well as 
 his son-in-law all the news." 
 
 Father Arsene thought to himself, that De*miane had 
 an extraordinary assurance for his age and that he 
 would get on very well, without any one to watch over 
 him . 
 
 " Is that your brother ? " said he, pointing to Victor ; 
 " I think I saw him at Gradovka." 
 
 " Yes, Your Grace." 
 
 " What is he doing with you? " 
 
 " 1 begged him to come with me, that I might not be 
 alone in my life. Victor is much better and much 
 wiser than I ; his advice will be useful and beneficial 
 to me." 
 
MARKOF. 1 I 1 .! 
 
 "Hem! it does not appear to me that his 
 has so much influence over you," said the monk. 
 ously, "for I do not suppose it was he \vho ad, 
 you to leave, or who begged you to bring ],i m - w ith 
 you." 
 
 Dcmiane lowered his head, and Victor, thinking him 
 Vanquished, took up his defence. 
 
 "Excuse him, Your Grace,' said he, in a trembling 
 voice, "the poor fellow was so unhappy at being fur- 
 bidden to play music ! He could not resist. We love 
 each other so dearly, Your Grace." 
 
 The sound of his troubled voice had something touch- 
 ing in it that went to the old monk's heart. He could 
 well remember his youth, and the storms that despotic 
 domineering engenders in the heart, and he felt pity for 
 our friends. 
 
 "I will speak to your father," said lie ; "but on con- 
 dition that you will not continue your rebellion any 
 longer. You must write him that you are ashamed of 
 your error, that you hope for his pardon, and that you 
 will submit yourselves humbly to his commands." 
 
 "But he will exact that we return to him !" observed 
 Demiane. 
 
 The archimandrite concealed a smile. 
 
 "It is too late to return to the Seminary," he said, 
 "you are justly expelled from this hour." 
 
 Demiane nearly jumped with joy; his brother 
 ceived the impulse and seized him by the arm 
 restrained himself, but his eyes expressed so u. 
 delight that Father Arsene could no longer contain. 
 himself. 
 
120 MARK OF. 
 
 " little thief," said lie, taking him by his ear, " at 
 least you will become a great artist?" 
 
 With a passionate gesture Ddmaine seized the monk's 
 hand, and kissed it twice with earnestness. 
 
 " That's all very well, that's all very well," said the 
 Priest, withdrawing his hand ; " you are a great sinner, 
 and your mentor there is not worth any more than your- 
 self. The fine wisdom you two have ! On what are 
 you going to live, foolish fellows that you are, what are 
 you going to eat?" 
 
 " Probably the bread of misery," hazarded Ddmiane, 
 who allowed himself to make two or three gambols, 
 which were moderated however on account of the holi- 
 ness of the place where they were, the peristyle of a 
 church, and which was consecrated moreover, as was 
 all the ground occupied by the convent. " But if you 
 only knew, Father Arsene, how indifferent we are to all 
 that ! Do you wish me to play you a little music ?" 
 
 " You wish to 'pay me in your worthless money, bad 
 fellow!" said the monk, who was rejuvenated by this 
 youthfulness, this exuberance which recalled to him the 
 remote time, when a simple naval cadet, he climbed 
 the ropes of his fine man-of-war. " Well, so be it, go 
 to Madame Moutine, and tell her I will see her at four 
 o'clock, and let her have her piano ready." 
 
 Madame Moutine was always ready, and her piano 
 also. She received with kindness the fugitives whose 
 visit her father had announced to her, and Victor was 
 able to assure himself that she was happy. Her great 
 calmness was always the same, but a look of repose and 
 contentment had replaced the melancholy one of her 
 
MARK OF. 121 
 
 past days. The poor boy felt a real joy at tin- M^ht ..f 
 her happiness, and his unselfish affection carried away 
 with it something with which to gladden him during 
 the cold days of winter solitude which they were about 
 to pass in poverty. 
 
 After one or two sonatas, Father Arse*ne was con- 
 tent; and he invited the young men to be present at 
 the evening service, "in a spirit of penance," he said ; 
 in reality, he wished to know what Ddmiane would MJ 
 about his choristers, whom he had instructed with mo>i 
 particular care. 
 
 The night having come, they went to the Convent 
 Church. Above a door which led into the interminable 
 birch-tree walk, the monk made the young men ob-ei\e 
 a picture in fresco. It was what is commonly called. 
 Saint Veronica's Veil; the face of Christ on a cloth 
 that is suspended from its two upper corners. A lamp 
 burned night and day before the holy picture and per- 
 mitted one to see it distinctly. 
 
 "Look," said he, "if that is not a veritable wonder: 
 when the French bombarded the Monastery, in 1812, 
 their iron shells struck this door on the right, on the 
 left, above and below the face of Christ; the cloth is 
 full of holes, the projectiles remain in the wall, only 
 the Divine Face was spared." 
 
 De'miane looked at the picture with curiosity, while 
 Victor said a prayer before it. 
 
 " Who painted that ? " he asked. 
 
 " It was a man who happened to be here at the time 
 of the bombardment ; he had just finished his work, the 
 paint was not yet dry, so they have told me. He 
 
122 
 
 M ARKOF. 
 
 afraid his work would be destroyed; he had not 
 sufficient faith. He painted other things in the con- 
 vent ; all the frescoes are by him ; and then on the top 
 of the house I live in, there is a pavilion, in which he 
 painted some very curious things he was a man 
 after your style," added he, addressing Demiane ; " he 
 believed in nothing but painting, and he would rather 
 have died than have given up his brush." 
 
 " You will show me what he did, Father Arsene, 
 will you not?" said the young man, letting the indi- 
 rect reproach pass unnoticed, and seizing the fact that 
 interested him. 
 
 " Yes, curious youth, you will see it to-morrow. 
 Come and ask pardon of the Lord for your past and 
 present faults ; you have enough with which to occupy 
 yourself throughout a hundred services." 
 
 They entered the church, and the young men re- 
 mained a little behind, while the archimandrite went to 
 occupy his pontifical throne. The monks, to the 
 number of about sixty, went two by two and bowed 
 before him, then they presented him with incense, 
 which he blessed, and an unusual grandeur transfigured 
 his face. The young men were amazed at witnessing 
 the majesty with which this man, who was so simple in 
 ordinary life, could clothe himself. 
 
 The church was lighted only by the tapers and 
 lamps that burned before the images : an almost total 
 darkness reigned at the sides and under the interior 
 peristyle, while the dome, that rose above the centre of 
 the church, was filled with a dim light, a sort of lumi- 
 nous mist, made by the wax and oil that were being 
 
MARKOF. 123 
 
 slowly consumed. The incense mounted in 
 spirals up as far as the top of the cupola, a in I the 
 archimandrite on his throne, lighted by a givat IUJM-I- 
 which was held by a monk standing beside him. 
 the prayers of the ritual in an uncommonly sweet, 
 tender voice. He distinctly enunciated all the holy 
 words; his small, white teeth shone from time to time 
 in his silvery beard that reached his breast; hi> 
 framed in his long hair, which looked like white silk, 
 seemed to shed a mystical light in the half i 
 choir. 
 
 De*miane looked at him, hidden in the shadow, and 
 said to himself that the man was truly majestic. 
 
 Suddenly, the archimandrite closed the book, th<> 
 taper was put out, and the white light faded from his 
 face. A solemn psalmody in the lowest key of ten rich 
 bass voices began slowly, in semi-tone, and Demiane 
 felt his heart throb. All the ardent supplication.-, 
 the fallen hopes, the sorrowful resignation, that life 
 may put in a human soul, all were contained in those 
 simple phrases, which were as short as sobs, as modu- 
 lated as sighs. The tenors took up the .strain in a, 
 major key, and their young and vibrating voices spoke 
 of the passionate struggles, the work of life, of strength 
 and youth bent to material labor in order to overcum.; 
 aspirations that were henceforth to be forbidden th^m 
 then the voices blended into harmonious unity, and an 
 humble, thrilling prayer, oft-repeated, to invoke the 
 mercy of Providence, united all sufferings, all d 
 in a tender outburst. 
 
 Father Arsene's voice rose from out the twilight of 
 
124 MARK OF. 
 
 the place, and let fall a few words of peace ; the taper 
 re-appeared beside him, while the choir answered him 
 in a hymn of thanksgiving, then silence came, and he 
 raised his right hand to give his blessing. One after 
 the other, the monks clad in their trailing robes, and 
 enveloped in long black veils that fell from their high 
 head dresses, went and bowed down to the ground 
 before their Superior, then the lamps were extin- 
 guished, and Father Arsene found himself alone in the 
 church with his two proteges. 
 
 " Ah ! " Ddmiane tried to say, " those are the songs 
 of Paradise." 
 
 The monk imposed silence upon him by a motion 
 of his hand. 
 
 " To-morrow," said he. " The night belongs to the 
 Lord." 
 
 They left slowly, filled with respect and a sort of fear 
 for that august man, whom, till then, they had thought 
 was only good. 
 
MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A FRESCO. 
 
 THE next day, when the first rays of the sun b< 
 to shine, our friends left the pilgrims' house. 
 They were eager to run about at liberty, and wished to 
 see everything. After a walk which brought them 
 back to the Monastery dying with hunger, they heard 
 that Father A rsdne had sent for them to take some tea 
 with him. They went in haste to what the archi- 
 mandrite called his cell, and which was in reality, a 
 pretty little two story house with a rez-de-chausste, 
 built of bricks, bright and clean, and perfumc-d with a 
 sweet odor of old incense, that had clung to the clothes 
 and furniture through many long years. 
 
 The monk was awaiting them in his small dining- 
 room, where the samovar boiled merrily, sending forth 
 clouds of vapor even up to the windows. Some little 
 rolls of a remarkable whiteness filled a basket, and 
 in order not to condemn his guests to the spare diet of 
 the convent, Father Arsene ordered some butter and 
 cream to be brought articles that were reserved I'm- 
 the sick and the infirm. Our friends did justice to the 
 breakfast, after which Ddmiane talked about music, as 
 was natural. 
 
 "What do you think of my choristers?" asked the 
 archimandrite, who was happy at last, to be able to ask 
 the question, whose answer he had not wished to hear 
 the day before. 
 
126 MARKOF. 
 
 " It was magnificent, it was I cannot say what it 
 was. I feel that I do not amount to anything with my 
 miserable violin, beside the human voice. Where did 
 you find those voices, Father Arsene ? " 
 
 " I did not find them, they came here quite of them- 
 selves. Every one here sings true." 
 
 "Yes, but there was something else besides the accu- 
 racy in the voices, there was there was something 
 which I can neither name nor define, that, which makes 
 one voice different from another, and which makes 
 them sing a thousand times better here, than at the 
 Seminary." 
 
 Father Arsene laid his hand gravely on the young 
 man's shoulder. 
 
 " There is something else in them in truth, my friend, 
 when you have found it in your violin, when it shall 
 sing as my men sang last night, as they sing every day, 
 moreover, you will be a great artist, and only then. 
 If ever you become proud, and you will be so, for the 
 sin of pride is the very essence of our nature, remem- 
 ber my choir of monks." 
 
 Ddmiane became thoughtful, Father Arsene smiled. 
 
 "Come," said he, in a very encouraging tone, "let 
 us go up stairs and see my paintings." Our friends 
 followed him to the stairway. 
 
 The first story was composed of two rooms and a 
 dressing-room, which were nicely furnished though 
 without any luxury; it was the bishop's apartment 
 when he came on his pastoral round ; the archimandrite 
 occupied above lodgings that were similarly arranged, 
 but which were much smaller and humbler. As Demi- 
 
MARK OF. 1'JT 
 
 ane was wondering at the small size of these rooms, 
 the old man opened a little door that led into a dnrk 
 corridor, then another door, and the young men who 
 had followed him, found themselves in a sort of / 
 that overlooked the plain and the valley of the Be*rd- 
 sina. 
 
 " Here," said Father Arsene, u is my walk, on the 
 days when I cannot go out, when I have the gout. Do 
 you not think that this is worth more than to In: 
 few superfluous square metres in my apartment ? " 
 
 Ddmiane could not grow weary looking at the land- 
 scape that wore the golden hues of autumn, at the. 
 great black pine trees which stood out bold and sharp 
 on the pale, yellow masses of the slender birch tn 
 the faded verdure of the meadows, and his eyes fe; 
 on color and form, as his ears had been intoxicated by 
 the music in the church. He felt a thousand new sen- 
 sations which he was unaware of before, and which he 
 could not even divine, but whose confused intuition 
 threw him into a sort of troubled ecstasy. 
 
 As he turned to ask a question, he was quite sur- 
 prised to see the walls of the loggia covered with 
 paintings, and forgetting what he was about to asl. 
 approached to examine them better. 
 
 It was the exact reproduction of the land scape which 
 he had under his eyes; the little river, the dismantled 
 bridge, the plain, and the white roads th; 1 the 
 
 hills, all were there ; but on the rising ground the artist 
 had placed a battery of artilleiy, battalions in the plain ; 
 combatants and corpses, all was dimmed, worn I 
 by time, but an extraordinary truthfulness gave to this 
 
128 M A R K O F . 
 
 work, which was more like a colored engraving than a 
 picture, a striking appearance that provoked one's 
 attention almost rudely. 
 
 " It is the battle," said the archimandrite who had 
 followed De'miane's movement. 
 
 "What battle?" 
 
 " The one that respected the Saviour's face on the 
 monastery door, and that left us so many corpses to 
 bury." 
 
 "The XII year?" 
 
 Father ArsSne made an affirmative sign of his head. 
 The twelfth year, such is the name by which Russians 
 designate without periphrases and without adjectives 
 that bloody epoch. The two words evoke at once, a 
 world of memories and thoughts, and after sixty years, 
 one is surprised to find the trace of it still bleeding in 
 the hearts of the peasants and humble people. 
 
 "But how did it happen that any one should have 
 had an idea of painting three great pictures, each one 
 of which is as large as a room, in this place exposed to 
 the wind and snow ? " 
 
 "It was done during the battle, " Father Arsene 
 replied. "When the misfortune happened, the archi- 
 mandrite of that time sent for a painter, from where I 
 do not know, to repair the frescoes of our church, 
 which were much damaged. The artist had been at 
 the Monastery for several months, and worked a little 
 every day, when the French army passed near here on 
 its retreat. We were blockaded, and he with us. He 
 had. come to this height to witness the spectacle of the 
 combat, and he found it so fine, so heroic, that he went 
 
MARK OF. 1'J'I 
 
 for his brushes, and hastily traced on the wall which 
 was covered with plaster, the scene under his 
 You see here, the uniforms of the French; there, tin; 
 grey capotes of our troops; that General down then- 
 has his head torn away by a shell, which you see in the 
 wall, over his shoulders." 
 
 Demiane went to see the shell, which had carried off 
 a piece of the landscape. 
 
 "Well, the painter was working there, just at the 
 moment when the shell struck the wall; how was it 
 that he was not wounded? It was the design of Provi- 
 dence to warn him of his danger without hurting him. 
 The man remained, nevertheless, and finished his work 
 in the midst of a hail-storm of bullets, for he served as 
 a mark. He did not even perceive it, so they have told 
 me, so much did the ardor of his work absorb him from 
 the entire world, and he never left his brush, until 
 there remained not an inch of wall to cover." 
 
 Demiane listened with his eyes wide open. 
 
 "I understand that!" said he, enthusiastically, "he 
 only thought of painting. There you see, Victor, that 
 is also a calling. I would like to have been that man ; 
 he loved his art." 
 
 "He was not a great artist, however," added Father 
 Arsne with a smile, "but he was an earnest man, and, 
 see, the Divine hand has 'preserved his work, for, after 
 fifty years it remains almost the same as it was the 
 first day." 
 
 "Painting remains,*' murmured Demiane, "music 
 flies away." 
 
 " Now you are jealous ! " said the archimandrite, 
 8 
 
130 MARK OF. 
 
 pinching his ear. " Music remains, because it is printed^, 
 and because every one can play or listen to it, while if 
 you had not come here, you could not have seen these 
 paintings." 
 
 "Yes," sighed the young man, "the composer sur- 
 vives, but the poor performer " 
 
 "No ambition, my son, no ambition. Be contented, 
 if you cannot do more, with giving a few moments of 
 pure enjoyment to those who listen to you, and do not 
 envy that to which you cannot attain. It would be a 
 wrong feeling." 
 
 They descended the stairs, and a few hours later the 
 diligence carried away the two brothers on the road to 
 Moscow. 
 
M A R K O F . 1 , 1 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FURNISHED APARTMENTS. 
 
 FATHER KOUZMA was very much moved at his 
 sons' desertion, and with his proper wrath was 
 mingled a great deal of sorrow. He vaguely felt that 
 he had not shown enough affection towards Dt'miane, 
 and at the same time not enough solicitude. Without 
 explaining it to himself very clearly, he felt he had 
 done wrong in allowing the young boy to grow up 
 in full liberty, almost without any rule, and entirely 
 without any duties. He was incapable of appreciating 
 the force of the artistic feeling which drew his son into 
 another career, but he could understand that it was too 
 late to bend under the yoke of a seminary, that head 
 which until then had never known any other law than 
 its own good pleasure. The result of these reflections 
 was to put more bitterness into the poor man's heart, 
 but also, more indulgence, and when Monsieur Rn 
 after having let the first wave of anger pass, began to 
 speak of it again, and asked him what he intended 
 doing in the face of the accomplished fact, the j: 
 answered, that he could not let his sons die of hunger. 
 
 " I agree with you," the physician replied, tranquilly ; 
 "but they will not die, be sure of it: they have too 
 great a desire to live ! " 
 
 "If he had only left me my Victor!" the father 
 sighed. 
 
132 MARK OF. 
 
 "Yes, you have always had a preference for your 
 first-born, and it was this preference which estranged 
 the younger from you; one is punished for such injus- 
 tice, Father Kouzma, and roughly punished. Victor 
 attached himself to Demiane, precisely because he felt, 
 without realizing why, the need of repairing your 
 indifference in regard to his brother, and now the elder 
 has followed the younger in order to compensate him 
 for his distant home." 
 
 "It is you who are the cause of it all!" grumbled 
 the priest, with a chagrined air ; if you had not given 
 him a violin, none of this would have happened ! " 
 
 "Then, something else would have happened," the 
 physician philosophically replied; "but you may be 
 assured that Demiane would never have become a 
 sheep of your fold." 
 
 Without stopping to notice the irreverence of this 
 metaphor, Father Kouzma sighed and promised to send 
 ten roubles a month to his sons to help them to live, as 
 soon as they should have sent him their apologies, and 
 moreover, he pledged himself to let them try to earn 
 their own living with the aid of this small help for 
 two years, and not to use his paternal authority to 
 recall them to him, except in the case of their conduct 
 becoming reprehensible or scandalous. 
 
 When the announcement of the success of their 
 adventure reached the two brothers, they were occupied 
 in installing themselves in an extremely modest room, 
 situated in a populous quarter of Moscow. In spite of 
 their modest pretensions, they found they could not 
 dream of taking rooms to themselves, on account of the 
 
MARKOF. 133 
 
 price, and were obliged to fall back on furnished houses, 
 where they let corners. 
 
 It is difficult for a French reader to imagine that one 
 can hire a corner and not a room, though the room 
 might be a closet as narrow as a corridor, without fire, 
 without air, but furnished at least with a door, which 
 gives to its occupant the illusion and vanity of solitude. 
 However, as Russian lodging-houses, even the poorest 
 of them, are generally divided into very large, badly 
 disposed rooms, which lead into each other without 
 any halls or outlets, one sees that the occupants of the 
 last room in the row must pass through all the other 
 rooms whenever they please. Therefore, in order to 
 overcome this inconvenience, they invented movable 
 partitions not partitions, properly speaking, but sepa- 
 rations, formed either by screens, or curtains supported 
 by rods, these rods themselves being held by small, 
 turned wooden columns, which cost very little and ha\ o 
 a most graceful effect. 
 
 The proprietors of lodging-houses did not stop, how- 
 ever, half-way on so fine a road. A large chamber fur 
 a single gentleman ? Why, they would not earn enough 
 even to save them from dying of hunger ! Being given 
 
 a rent of it did not suffice them to earn so much on 
 
 the combined rents, it was necessary that each room 
 should bring in the maximum. 
 
 Owing to the system of separations, they placed two 
 beds in one room, then three, and finally four, one in 
 each corner when the chamber happily did not have; 
 its stove precisely in an angle, which, unfortunate 1 , 
 the masters of lodging-houses, is almost the absolute 
 
134 MARKOF. 
 
 rule. However, room can be made elsewhere than 
 in Heaven, and as a corner does not always imply a 
 right angle, they made corners in the acute, between 
 the stove and the wall; only such are let at a lower 
 price. The most desirable ones are next the window, 
 because it is lighter there. However, in winter, the 
 window corners fall slightly into disrepute, on account 
 of the cold. 
 
 The two young men hoped to be able to procure 
 themselves a room in which there would be only two 
 corners, and where consequently, they would be alone 
 together, but that kind being very much sought after, 
 they could not find one. 
 
 Their sojourn in the hotel where they alighted, made 
 quite a hole in their little fortune, and they decided 
 to take corners in the largest room they could find, 
 and having seen one day a little piece of paper stuck 
 on a window bearing these words : " To let, two corners 
 for two quiet young men,'" they looked at each other 
 and smiled. 
 
 " Are we quiet young men, Victor ?" asked De*miane. 
 
 " I think so," replied the good fellow, and they 
 entered the house. 
 
 The bargain was arranged after some discussion 
 touching the question of price, and that very evening 
 they found themselves in possession of their respective 
 beds. The tenants of the other corners made their 
 appearance about nine o'clock. One was a medical 
 student who carefully concealed his nihilistic opinions, 
 for they had already caused him to be sent away from 
 quite a number of corners ; the other was a furrier 
 
MARKOF. 186 
 
 apprentice, who brought in his clothes the most abom- 
 inable odor of furs, but neither one nor the other 
 seemed displeased with the looks of their new com- 
 panions. 
 
 " You belong to the clergy, do you not?" the student 
 asked Victor, after having looked at him for a minute 
 without saying anything. 
 
 "Yes," replied he innocently ; "why?" 
 
 " That can be seen at once." 
 
 And that was the only information which the young 
 man could obtain. The two old corners began to 
 smoke abominable cheap tobacco, which made Victor 
 very ill, but he did not dare to show it. Ddmianc also 
 frowned, but to overcome the nausea, he accepted a 
 cigarette from his neighbor the student, and this 
 homeopathic remedy succeeded perfectly with him. 
 
 "Well, one is not so badly off," said the young musi- 
 cian, on awakening the next morning, when he saw tin; 
 two other corners had disappeared, doubtless to at t cm I 
 to their daily occupations. 
 
 " No, not too badly. If they would only not smoke 
 that abominable tobacco which smells like cabbages ! ' 
 said the poor boy, smiling. 
 
 " One gets accustomed to it, you will see ! Now, we 
 will take a glass of tea to console ourselves, and then I 
 will go to the post to see if there are any lett 
 
 Two hours later, he returned from the post-office 
 with so joyful a face, that Victor stood open-montlicd 
 before him, not daring to question him. 
 
 " Father has forgiven us," said Pt'inianr, with a self- 
 contained, but eager vibrating voice, as he entered. 
 
136 MARK OF. 
 
 Victor threw himself on his brother's neck and burst 
 into tears. They both sat on one of their beds, De'miane 
 holding his brother still clasped to him. 
 
 Forgive me ! forgive me ! " murmured he, " it is 
 not my fault, De'miane; I did not wish to give you 
 pain, but I was so unhappy thinking that our father 
 was angry with us! I did not say anything to you 
 about it all this time, but it weighed so heavily on my 
 heart, oh ! so heavily ! " 
 
 He sighed deeply, then wiped his eyes and smiled at 
 his brother. 
 
 " You are an angel," said the latter, " and I am only 
 a fool. I ought to have thought of the sorrow you 
 must feel, while since our departure, I have only 
 thought of music." 
 
 " It was very natural," said Victor, excusing De'mi- 
 ane as he always did ; for you, music is everything . 
 What does our father say, read me his letter ! " 
 
 " It was Monsieur Roussof who wrote ; we will ask 
 father's forgiveness immediately, and then he will write 
 to us himself, and, do you know ? he is going to send us 
 ten roubles a month ! " 
 
 " How good he is! " murmured Victor; "we offended 
 him, and not content with pardoning us, he wishes to 
 help us." 
 
 De'miane had not considered it from that point of 
 view; he became grave, and meditated for a few 
 moments. 
 
 " He is good," said he at length, " and I am going to 
 make him my humble excuses for myself and for having 
 brought you away without - his permission. If you 
 
MARKOF. 1 :;; 
 
 repent of having come, Victor, you must return : 
 liave still enough money left for your journey. I 
 would not wish to have you here \\hile your heart is 
 there with them." 
 
 Victor did not reply immediately, but when he i , 
 his eyes to his brother's face, a iirm, frank resolution 
 bhont' in his look. 
 
 44 1 will remain with you, brother," said he ; " now 
 that father has forgiven us, I have no more sorrow, no 
 more remorse ; I am happy to be with you and to be 
 able to help you to live in the future." 
 
 The two brothers seized each other's hands and 
 looked at one another with a new tenderness, a new 
 confidence. 
 
 The letter was soon written and put in the post, 
 then after a little walk, our friends returned to their 
 home. Their dinner was of tea, bread and cheese, 
 for it was impossible for them, until they had received 
 the price of their first month's lessons, to pr< 
 themselves more costly daily fare. But the appe- 
 tite usual to their age and the good news they had 
 received in the morning, made them find the meal 
 delicious. 
 
 "Now," said Ddmiane, when they had devoured the 
 last crumbs and drained their tea-pot, I am piiig to 
 give ourselves a little concert. -My lingers are itching 
 1 have not touched my violin for a week." 
 
 He plunged into the famous trunk at tin 
 turbing its skillful packing, and div\v forth tin- 
 object, together with his exercises whieh never left him. 
 The pages were worn at the corners, but Demiano 
 
138 MARK OF. 
 
 knew the studies by heart, and if he looked at the 
 book as he worked, it was simply from a spirit of disci- 
 pline. He made himself a rack with the samovar, and 
 conscientiously began the first exercises. 
 
 He had not played more than ten minutes when a 
 moan was heard behind the door. Paying no attention 
 to it, he continued. A second moan, accompanied by 
 deep sighs, followed the first without loss of time. 
 Surprised, he stopped, with his bow in the air ; silence 
 was re-established. After a moment devoted to per- 
 suading himself that he had not heard aright, Ddmaine 
 continued his exercises. 
 
 It was not a moan that answered him, but a modu- 
 lated groan, that began by a prolonged yawning, like a 
 door that is closed against its will, and finished in a 
 frightful howl. 
 
 " What is that ? " asked De*miane stopping again. 
 
 No one replying, he took up his bow, but just as he 
 was touching the strings the same noise was repeated. 
 
 " It is the dog of the proprietress ! " exclaimed Victor, 
 running to the door. 
 
 A frightful black spaniel entered, rolling his " loto- 
 ball " eyes, as the people say, his " convex ones " as 
 refined people express it, in a much less picturesque 
 manner. Fat, old, aggressive, with his hair slightly 
 worn off on his back, this creature, ill-favored by nature, 
 entered, stopped in the middle of the room and looked 
 at our friends. 
 
 "Do you wish to come in?" said Demiane to it. 
 " Very well, sit down there and leave us in peace." 
 
 Protesting with all the anger that was kindled in his 
 
MARKOF. 
 
 frog-like eyes, the King-Charles declared he would net 
 Bit down ; but the young man looked at him no LM 
 seeing which, the animal carefully sat down. 
 
 " Bzz ! " sang the bow on the lowest note. 
 
 " Ouaouh ! " replied the dog, raising his nose tov 
 Heaven, in a perfectly vertical line, to such a <1 
 that one could no longer see his head, which was hid- 
 den by his fat, bald neck, which was red in spots. 
 
 " He does not like music, Ddmiane," said Victor, with 
 an alarmed air. 
 
 " Go away, then ! " said our friend, " no one has a 
 right not to love music." 
 
 But the dog had no desire to go away, and to the 
 pressing invitation which was given him, accompani. I 
 by a demonstration that was still friendly, but 
 decided, he replied by showing his teeth, and by 
 remaining obstinately seated. 
 
 "Give him some sugar," suggested Victor, who did 
 not like violent measures. 
 
 With some regret, for sugar was dear, Ddmiane took 
 a bit of the precious substance and gave it to the dog. 
 The latter allowed himself to be put out of the mum, 
 and after having carefully shut the door, the y- 
 musician returned to his violin. At the end of t\\< 
 measures, the most heart-rending cries made the IHMIM- 
 resound from the cellar to the garret, but Dcinianc 
 was determined to pay no attention to them, an-i 
 ing Victor to close his ears, he kept on pi\; with 
 
 all his might for five minutes. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened and the proprietress 
 pale with fury, entered, her dog under her arm. 
 
140 M A R K O F . 
 
 " You have not common sense," she exclaimed, " to 
 make a poor beast cry in that way. Why have you 
 come here with your music ? I have only quiet people 
 here, and I forbid you to play on the violin, do you 
 hear?" 
 
 " You should have written it on the paper stuck on 
 the window," replied De'miane, who felt his anger rise 
 to his face. 
 
 " It was there, sir ! " 
 
 " How was it there ? I do not know how to read, 
 then." 
 
 " Yes, sir, it was there ; it said that we did not wish 
 any but quiet people." 
 
 " Well, we are not quiet people, then ? " 
 
 "No, people are not quiet when they play music, 
 and such music ! If it were on the piano, at least one 
 would know what it was." 
 
 "Does your dog like the piano?" De*miane asked, 
 calmly. 
 
 " He cannot abide it, the poor dailing ! But you are 
 going to stop, or else you will leave."* 
 
 " We will leave, dear madame ; I should be a wretch 
 to annoy your dog." 
 
 When she saw the young man was so decided not to 
 yield, the proprietress became less belligerent. 
 
 "Perhaps he will accustom himself to it, the dear 
 treasure," said she; "you can try, but if he does not, 
 you must go." 
 
 The treasure did not accustom himself to it, on the 
 contrary, and after half an hour Demiane declared he 
 would rather walk on his knees, than to listen to sucb 
 
M A R K O F . Ill 
 
 a concert any longer. But as they had paid for a 
 \veek in advance, and, as our friends were not rk-h 
 enough to assume two rents at once, Deniiane took 
 his violin under his arm, and during four pleasant days 
 that the clemency of Heaven granted him, he went 
 to charm the birch-trees of the Champg-dea-Vierges, 
 outside of the city, where no one listened to him, and 
 where the stray dogs did not seem to possess tin; 
 same antipathy to music, as did the frog-eyed specimen 
 of their race. 
 
142 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 PETIT-GKIS. 
 
 TTHHE two brothers soon learned that it is very difn 
 .A. cult to find one's self a lodging, when one plays 
 the violin. For several weeks they wandered from. 
 corners to corners, and were always sent away, either 
 by the proprietors, or by their room-mates, whose medi- 
 tations were troubled by Deiniane's exercises. At 
 length, Monsieur Roussof having found another pupil 
 for the young musician, our friends were rich enough 
 to take a room to themselves, and it was with a heart 
 swelling with pride that Victor set forth in search of 
 that Eden. 
 
 After some days of unprofitable running about, he 
 reached an out-of-the-way quarter, quite at the end of 
 the city, near the Nijni-Novgorod railway station, and 
 came upon a wooden house, with a rez-de-chaussee and 
 a garret, out of which the ingenious proprietor had 
 made a small room, which was very old, so much so, 
 that it was gently inclining towards the passers-by, and 
 threatened some fine day to fall into the small narrow 
 garden that separated it from the street. The defaced 
 logs of which it was built, made it look like a peasant's 
 cabin, but window-shades of very white calico descended 
 to a third of the windows, which were filled inside by 
 plants covered with a rich foliage. Victor stopped and 
 looked at the modest dwelling. " How comfortable 
 
M A R K O F . 1 1 3 
 
 Dne might be there," he said t< himself: "if there 
 svere only any part of it to let!" The; little, 
 
 square bit of paper attached to one of the wind. 
 he approached, and read with a blush of satisi'aetii.n: 
 "To let, a room for two bachelor gentlemen." 
 
 Full of hope, he rang at the little door, which had 
 formerly been painted yellow; a woman of about forty 
 years of age, with a sad air, and poorly clad, can 
 open it for him, and he at once felt a sort of sympathy 
 for her. 
 
 "Are you the mistress of the house?" said he to her 
 without ceremony; "I have come to see the room 
 which is to be l&t." 
 
 "Come in," said the sad woman; "here it is." 
 
 She opened a door and Victor saw a pretty little 
 room, furnished with two iron beds, a toilet table, an 
 ttagere and another table. The wall at the end of the 
 room was occupied by an old piano, mounted on 
 round legs which were ornamented by brass capitals, 
 in the style of the First Empire; it was a frightful piano, 
 which must have had a tone as shrill and as sharp as 
 the noise of grasshoppers in summer. The paper, that 
 was bright blue, gave a glad, peaceful look to the little 
 room. 
 
 "If the piano is in your way," said the pmprie; 
 with a melancholy tone, "it can be removed, but I 
 hardly know where it could be put." 
 
 "It can remain there," said Victor, concealing his 
 delight. " But I ought to tell you that my bi 
 plays the violin; do you think it will disturb . 
 
 "No," said she. "That will not disturb me. Mj 
 
144 MARKOF. 
 
 husband also used to play the violin at private ballg 
 but he is dead." 
 
 "Perhaps then, it might give you pain?" said Vic 
 tor, who was always full of compassion towards humai 
 misery. 
 
 " No. I think rather, it will give me pleasure 
 There is another tenant in the next room; I will asl 
 him in regard to it, but I do not believe it will aimer 
 him ; he works at a German musical-instrument maker'}- 
 and he brings home violin handles and all sorts o 
 wonderful things, to work on for his own account 
 evenings, and on feast-days." 
 
 Victor remained thoughtful for a while ; but a mai 
 who made violins could not dislike music. 
 
 " And how much is your room a month? " 
 
 "Eight roubles with the linen and the samova 
 included." 
 
 It was a great deal compared with our friends' re 
 sources. Victor bargained for an hour and obtained j 
 reduction of two roubles, which left a price fabulously 
 cheap. 
 
 " And for your food," said the still afflicted proprie 
 tress, "when you wish it, I will serve you a dinner fo 
 twenty-five kopecks for each person, a soup and on< 
 other dish." 
 
 " Agreed," replied the young man. 
 
 He hastened to make sure of this palace, and thei 
 returned to his lodgings full of joy and pride. HI 
 praised himself mentalty in regard to his negotia 
 tion, and it needed but little to make him belie v< 
 himself a diplomatist. 
 
M A K K o F. 145 
 
 Ddmiane was none the 1 \\ith tin- blue 
 
 oom; it was a little out of tin- \vay, it v 
 emote from every tiling, luit: 
 
 "You will see how pretty it will be in tin- spri: 
 said Victor. And thru they \\ere alone in their mum. 
 
 That privacy could nut cost too much. Their i. 
 .ng was accomplished without much expense: they 
 ;jich took their trunk by one of its handle.-, and. < 
 iiig all their fortune with them, entered their new 
 Iwelling-place, one fine evening in Noveml 
 
 When Ddiniaiic had seated himselt' and had \\ '. 
 ais moist brow, he remarked : 
 
 "It seems to me, that we are going to be very happy 
 md are to begin a new existence." 
 
 They had scarcely had time to look at their furni 1 
 when some one knocked at their door. 
 
 "It must be the proprietress who has mme U) 
 if we wish the samovar," said Victor. 
 
 He opened the door hurriedly. It was not 
 proprietress, but a little blond man, so blond th;r 
 hair looked white, with a red, scant beard and china- 
 blue eyes, which were as bright and expressive as 
 L;hina-blue eyes generally are not. 
 
 "Good-evening," said he, sto pping at th. thn-hnld. 
 "I am your neighbor, and I live in "om. 
 
 The proprietress told me that one of you p' 
 violin. I make violins myself. Permit nake 
 
 your acquaintance, and to introduce myself: . \ndn- 
 St6panitch Ladof, from the government of Voronije, 
 fallen in Moscow by chance and employed at Mil 
 the musical-instrument maker at Ivanosk.. 
 9 
 
146 MARK OF. 
 
 After having delivered this speech in one breath, he 
 bowed and stood awaiting an answer. 
 
 " Victor and De'miane Markof," said the young musi- 
 cian, smiling. " I shall be a great artist in the future if 
 I can succeed in becoming a musician, and my brother 
 is my prophet, while he is waiting for something better ; 
 we are the sons of a priest, from the government of 
 Koursk, and much pleased to make your acquaintance." 
 
 The young men shook hands, and Andre entered 
 their room. 
 
 " Do you see that piano ? " said he, pointing to the 
 forlorn instrument ; " I took it completely to pieces last 
 year to learn how it was made, and I put it together 
 again all by myself. By the way, I do not mean to 
 say it is better on account of that. Do you play the 
 piano ? " 
 
 " A little," said Demiane, " but so little that it is not 
 worth mentioning." 
 
 The little blond man began to laugh. 
 
 " I knew," said he, " a man who played the flute and 
 who learned the piano, in order to accompany himself 
 when he played, when he had no one to render him 
 that service. I do not pretend to advise you to do the 
 same, but a violinist should always know how to play 
 the piano, were it only to be able to put his accom- 
 panist right when he makes a mistake. Gentlemen, 
 will you come to my room to take a cup of tea ; you 
 have something else to do to-night than to occupy your- 
 selves about your household ; I shall be happy to have 
 you accept my hospitality." 
 
 The odd little man led his guests into the next room 
 
M A I; K () F. 117 
 
 which presented the strangest appearance. Pi ces of 
 ivory, ebony and mahogany were lying /"//-///-// in a 
 large Russian bowl, that once had been red and yellow, 
 but whose color was now entirely rubbed off lv the 
 knocks from so many corners. An inextricably tai. 
 skein of strings of all sizes, was fastened to a nail, 
 hung down to a table, which was placed across the 
 window and was covered with many differently shaped 
 tools; a rather decided odor of glue filled the apart- 
 ment, but for the moment it was overpowered by tin- 
 perfume of hot tea, and the strong smell of the 
 smoke from the samovar. A plate full of rusks and a 
 basket containing two small loaves of white br- 
 proof of the hosts' munificence. 
 
 " Do not pay any attention," said he, " to all those 
 articles that are on the walls; there is no evil spirit 
 whatever in them." 
 
 Naturally, our friends looked intently at the things 
 to which they were not to pay any heed. Their shapes 
 were, indeed, calculated to suggest some witchcraft, 
 some secret incantation. They were simply the boxes 
 and handles of violoncellos and violins, but these unfin- 
 ished pieces had something mysterious and fant 
 about them ; the black holes, especially, in the middle 
 of the boxes, suggested the idea of &om demon ready 
 to jump forth. When the proprietress went aw. 
 having brought the cream, a strange noise was heard in 
 one of the boxes, the largest one which was si 
 over Andre's head. This noise, which was like a i. 
 was repeated, then a scratching made the 
 instrument resound. The two brothers looked at 
 other with a sort of shudder. 
 
148 M A R K O F . 
 
 "Is there an evil spirit there?" said Andre*, who 
 seemed by nature imperturbable. " If there is one, let 
 him show himself. Appear ! " cried he in a thundering 
 voice, stretching his arms towards the box. 
 
 The moan was repeated feebly and sharp as a needle, 
 and the same scratching was repeated with new 
 strength. Just as Andre*, with a candle in his hand, 
 was approaching the box to ascertain the cause of so 
 unusual a manifestation, and our friends were looking 
 at each other with an indefinable anxiety, the head of a 
 little grey cat appeared on the edge of the violoncello's 
 fcounding-board, surmounting two little paws that were 
 amply furnished with claws, and which were trying to 
 raise the kitten's body. 
 
 "What, is it you who have caused us such alarm?" 
 fcaid Andre, who it seemed had observed his guests 
 without looking as though he were noticing them ; " it 
 is you, Petit-Gris? How the devil did you succeed 
 in getting in there? You jumped in it from the 
 bureau ? And you took a siesta there ? And now you 
 want some cream ? How will you manage to get down 
 at present? It is not everything to occupy an elevated 
 position, one must know how to leave it nobly; ask 
 ministers about it, when they put others in their 
 places ! " 
 
 Petit-Gris, who was greatly perplexed, had succeeded 
 in stationing itself on its four paws on the edge of the 
 hole, but the distance from its post to the table was a 
 formidable one for such a little creature. For though 
 it raised its back and swung its tail for a balancing-pole, 
 its equilibrium was very unsteady. 
 
MARK OF. 149 
 
 "Would not one say it was European politics?" 
 said Andre*, seeing it oscillate. " Well, come, my 
 friend, and learn that greatness is sometimes a very 
 painful burden." 
 
 He took the cat carefully under its body, raised it 
 in the air, and turned it thus around his head, then 
 placed it on the table, when this animal, which was 
 yet destitute of moral education, and probably des- 
 tined never to have any, went immediately to the 
 cream-pot. 
 
 "Wait!" said Andre*, stopping it on its way, not 
 without encountering an energetic resistance. He 
 poured out some cream for it in a saucer, and the cat 
 began to lap it with evident satisfaction, after which 
 it sat down, and winked its eyes at the company, while 
 passing its tongue over its chops with voluptuous slow- 
 ness. 
 
 " So young," said Andre*, as he poured out some tea 
 for his new neighbors, " so young and it already pos- 
 sesses all the vices ! Ah ! gentlemen, the world is well 
 made ! Nothing is made better ! Petit-Gris was born 
 lazy, a glutton and a thief, and admire Providence ! 
 Here am I, just at the right moment, with a violoncello 
 box for his siesta, and cream for his supper! What 
 foresight ! " 
 
 The two brothers not understanding his irony, kept 
 silence, for want of knowing what to say ; Victor ven- 
 tured, however. 
 
 "Is that your cat?" he said, timidly. 
 
 "There is where shines forth in all its beauty, the 
 occult power that governs us," Andre* replied; "no, 
 
150 MARKOF. 
 
 gentlemen ; no, my friends, as I dare to call you, Petit- 
 Gris is not mine ; it belongs to my landlady, and it is 
 myself whom it loves ! Not only does it love me, but 
 by a mysterious law of affinity, I, who do not care for 
 it, shelter and feed it. It sleeps on my own pillow, 
 gentlemen, and at night, when I move and disturb it, 
 involuntarily, I beg you to believe it gives me a 
 stroke with its paw to make me return to the order 
 and submission which is the position of man in relation 
 to the beast, when once he has allowed it access to his 
 domicile." 
 
 "Do you like cats?" asked Victor, who understood 
 less and less. 
 
 " I ? not at all ! I do not love nor fear them ; they 
 are nothing more to me than other animals." 
 
 "Well, then, why are you so kind to that one?" 
 asked De*miane, who felt there was something hidden 
 under this apparently trifling babbling. 
 
 " Because," said Andre*, laying the palm of his hand 
 on the edge of the table, " if I permit that animal to 
 enter my home, I also owe it hospitality, in the true 
 sense of the word. It comes to me with confidence ; 
 should I betray it in that noble sentiment and make my- 
 self despised by a cat such a cat! a little bit of a cat, 
 by having acted disloyally towards it? I ought to 
 have forbidden it access to this room, I had not energy 
 enough to do it, and besides, cats slip in everywhere ! 
 I did resist it a little, but feebly ; it felt my inferiority 
 and has made use of it from that time to domineer 
 over me completely. It is the eternal history of man 
 and woman, of Sampson and Delilah, of peoples and 
 
MARKOF. 151 
 
 governors. Petit-Gris, you are at once a moral and 
 historical lesson ! " 
 
 The cat looked in turn at the three young men, 
 opening and shutting its green eyes, whose pupils 
 looked like black lines scarcely defined in their 
 tres. The young men listened with astonishment, and 
 Victor asked himself if their host were not a little 
 insane, when the latter, turning towards Demiane, >a'nl 
 to him : 
 
 "How old are you? if my question is not im- 
 proper." 
 
 "I am eighteen years of age," replied the young 
 man, a little ashamed at not being any older. 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I shall soon be twenty," replied Victor, with assur- 
 ance. 
 
 Twenty years is a respectable age, and one can con- 
 fess to it with a bold front. 
 
 " You are very young to try the great plunge ! But 
 one gets used to it all the sooner. I was younger than 
 yourselves when I took my great leap in the slough of 
 life." 
 
 "You have not always, then, been a musical-instru- 
 ment maker?" asked Ddmiane, who at last seized a 
 tangible thread. 
 
 " Ah ! you perceived that, young man ? Not bad I'm- 
 a beginner. No, my neighbors and friends, I li;i\v 
 been a musical -instrument maker only four y< 
 Tin til then, I was a law -student in the University of 
 this good city of Moscow, and I had only one 
 more of work before me to obtain my license, when I 
 
152 MARK OF. 
 
 became a musical-instrument maker a fine trade, 
 gentlemen ! " 
 
 "Of your own will?" asked Demiane, emboldened 
 by the certainty of being on the road to the truth. 
 
 44 Of my own will, if one wishes it. Yes, in this 
 way, that I preferred to be a musical -instrument 
 maker than to be a bootmaker or a clerk in a bazaar ; 
 but it was not of my own will that I ruined my career; 
 why should I hide it from you ? It is not a mystery, 
 and then you are not one who would try to harm me ! 
 I was compromised in a scandal at the University, like 
 a fool as I was ; I grazed Siberia ; fortunately I went 
 no farther. But, there was no longer any professional 
 career possible for me, and, ma foi! I took up making 
 violins ! That is my history." 
 
 Demiane remained silent; after a moment he ex- 
 pressed his thoughts thus : 
 
 44 You said just now, I beg your pardon that you 
 were a fool for having taken part in that scandal ; it 
 was a demand I suppose; did you wish unreasonable 
 thing- 
 
 Ah ! no, nothing unreasonable ! But it was the 
 manner in which it was done, which was stupid I One 
 should not make a row when one has the right on one's 
 side ! One should await one's time, and when it has 
 come, then speak. It is not by breaking chairs that 
 abuses are reformed ! " 
 
 Victor was nearly dead with fatigue and hardly 
 heard the conversation his brother was holding with 
 their new friend ; after half an hour, Ddmiane i 
 and, giving his hand to their id: 
 
MARK OF. 
 
 " I think that I shall importune you very often, for I 
 have everything to learn, and you seem to me to be a 
 good professor." 
 
 "I will teach you all you wish," replied the latter, 
 " even how to make violins, if you like." 
 
 " To make violins ? " repeated Victor, waking up 
 suddenly. 
 
 " And projects for laws for an extremely far off time, 
 a time when neither Petit-Gris, nor you, nor I shall be 
 any longer of this world," said Andre", as he lighted 
 ;hem to their room. 
 
154 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 VICTOR CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 
 
 VICTOR passed his evenings with Benjamin Rous- 
 sof; the latter would have preferred De'miane, 
 but without doubt his studies gained more from the 
 guidance of the elder brother, who was more serious 
 and whom it was more difficult to annoy, in spite of 
 his great timidity. Victor possessed a fund of firm 
 patience, while his brother had only will. Patience 
 and persistence are often confounded, and yet they 
 essentially differ; the latter will admit of impatience 
 and rebellion, which the former forbids. Demiane 
 knew how to resist Fate, to overcome material ob- 
 stacles, to struggle with the difficulties of mechanism, 
 and with those which his lazy or wilful pupils gave him 
 constantly, for he wished to succeed, and he was deter- 
 mined to undergo a good deal for that end but 
 true, patience that begins ten times over the same work 
 which has been destroyed by the capricious hand 
 destiny, that takes it up again without wrath, without 
 concealed anger, and without even hidden bad humor, 
 this was Victor's cross, and was to abide with him. 
 
 One day just as De'miane was preparing to go out to 
 give his lessons, the number of which had increased, 
 Victor timidly touched him on his arm and stopped him. 
 
 " Would it be disagreeable to you," said he to him, 
 "to have me earn my living by manual labor?" 
 
MARKOF. 155 
 
 "That depends," replied D&niane smiling, for he 
 thought he was joking. "If it were to cut wood or 
 jart bricks, I would be very glad to have you keep 
 rom it." 
 
 " It is not that," said Victor more and more confused, 
 is though he were confessing some fault ; " but Andre* 
 tsked me if I would like to work with him at his 
 employer's ; one earns a great deal of money it seems, 
 vhen one has become expert I would like that occu- 
 )ation if you would not object." 
 
 Demiane became serious; in realizing that he knew 
 lothing and that he had everything to learn, he put 
 limself on the road to wisdom, and on that path, he 
 lad come upon much that he knew very well, but 
 diose utility had not been apparent to him until then, 
 ^mong other things, he had recognized that a life of 
 >rivation is fine and comfortable as regards one's 
 uture, but that in the present, it demanded a singular 
 Abnegation in one's every day life. He had also seen, 
 hat it pained his brother to be earning less than him- 
 elf not that it hurt his pride, poor Victor having 
 nade for a long time a sacrifice of earthly vanities 
 >ut, it hurt his fraternal love, and he reproached himself 
 or costing his brother more than he brought him. A 
 BSS prejudiced judge would have taken into account, 
 hat, by reason of the inevitable necessity of better 
 lothes and more clean linen, De*miarie who went out 
 ftener, spent also a great deal more than himself, but 
 factor neither could nor would, look at things from 
 his point of view. 
 
 " I would like so much to make violins," he insisted 
 
156 MARK OF. 
 
 in a beseeching tone ; " you know very well that th< 
 one you have is not sufficiently good; when I kno^ 
 how, I will make you one." 
 
 De'miane drew his brother to him ; they seldom kissec 
 each other now, for they had passed the age of youth 
 ful abandon, but from time to time a warm clasp die 
 both of their hearts good. 
 
 " You know very well that I cannot refuse it," saic 
 the young musician, " and yet I ought to, for you wil 
 fatigue yourself, and perhaps make yourself ill." 
 
 " Oh ! as to that, never," said Victor, laughing, sc 
 happy was he. " You know my natural laziness ; 1 
 think you can rely on that to assure yourself that ] 
 shall never do too much." 
 
 Demaine shook his head. In their small householc 
 it was Victor who had taken upon himself all th< 
 domestic duties; he brought the water, arranged the 
 room, and busied himself with the petty details of life 
 and this position seemed quite a natural one to them. 
 
 "Well," said the musician, "do as you please 
 brother, and it will be for the best." 
 
 The next morning, Victor followed Andre* to Miller's 
 the musical instrument maker. What he learned, anc 
 what he earned there, are things little interesting ir 
 themselves, and he did not talk much about his appren 
 ticeship. When he came home, he had a happy look 
 his health seemed to improve from the change o: 
 surroundings and the long walks that were the con 
 sequence of it. Monsieur Roussof, on hearing of his 
 determination, showed more friendship. Benjamin 
 alone made fun of him for three days, and then, no one 
 thought any more about it. 
 
MARKOF. 157 
 
 A few weeks later, one Sunday, while our friends 
 
 eTQ busy introducing a little order in their home, 
 rhich was sadly compromised by Victor's daily ali- 
 enee, Andre* knocked at their door and iminediaU-lv 
 assed his flat nose through the opening. 
 
 44 Are you very busy ? " said he to them. 
 
 44 Yes and no ; why ? " 
 
 44 Because if you had the time this evening, I would 
 ake you to a German ball; it is quite worth the 
 rouble." 
 
 44 A ball where one pays?" asked Victor, who was 
 Iways economical. 
 
 44 Yes, a geselhchaft, as they say a club, as we call 
 The entrance fee is not high, the style of the club 
 ot being very great; what do you say to it?" 
 
 Victor looked at Ddmiane hesitatingly. For Lis 
 art, he felt no desire whatever to go and see a,ny- 
 ne, but his brother had risen with a certain eagerness. 
 
 44 How much is the entrance fee ? " 
 
 44 Thirty kopecks; it was Miller's employes whn 
 ntroduced me there; they will present you, for it is 
 ecessary to be presented, but that does not bind one 
 o very much. You can get intoxicated on condition 
 lat you won't make any noise; if you do, they will 
 urn you out of doors with but little ceremony, I 
 onfess but not altogether without regard for you." 
 
 Demiane looked at Victor, then low end his 
 e had a great desire to see a ball, were the bull only a 
 rerman geselhchaft, for he had never given the 
 iance into the world, even through a half-opened door, 
 ut he did not dare to say so. 
 
158 M A R K O F . 
 
 " They will make fun of me," said Victor, hes 
 tatingly. He understood his brother's desire, but L 
 was so afraid of being turned into ridicule. " Go thei 
 without me, Demiane." 
 
 " No," replied the latter, firmly. " I will go n 
 where without you." 
 
 " While you are giving yourselves up to this battl 
 of generosity," said Andre*, ' I am going to brush m 
 best clothes ; a dress-coat is not a necessity, you kno 
 with Germans ! " 
 
 His head disappeared, and Victor looked at h 
 brother with a supplicating look. 
 
 " I beg of you," said he, " go and amuse yourself, 
 will stay here and read a book which Andre* lent n 
 a month ago, and which I have not yet been able 1 
 begin." 
 
 With a very decided shake of his head, Demiar 
 answered no. The ball had a certain kind of attractic 
 for him, which he would never have dared to defir 
 and which he did not feel capable of confronting alon 
 He was afraid of what he might feel, and he thoug] 
 he divined something in it that was a little unhealtl 
 in a certain way, and he did not wish to assume all tl 
 responsibility of such a step. Not that he feared b 
 coming intoxicated or being in the society of drunke 
 people ; he had seen drunkards at their village, ar 
 many flasks' were emptied at his father's house on tl 
 occasion of the parish feast, and he had been the cal 
 witness of comical scenes which did not shock him, bi 
 which would have excited the imagination of anothe 
 
 What he feared was the word ball, which was tl 
 
M A RK O F . 
 
 picture he made to himself of a whirlwind in which 
 women with low-necked dresses and iln \\vrs in their 
 hair swept past him, as lie had once seen them at 
 Madame Roussofs, \\hcn lie was very \oung, mi the 
 occasion of Benjamin's baptism. 
 
 Victor did not think of .similar things : he had a hor- 
 rible fear of hearing himself ridicule d on account of 
 his deformity. He said, voluntarily: " I am a hunch- 
 back," and it did not pain him ; lie went and came in 
 the streets, indifferent about it, because he knew i: 
 inevitable, because he was obliged to go out in 
 streets, and that moreover, he never looked an\ \\ 
 except straight before him ; then, the people are natu- 
 rally charitable, and unkind hearts who arc disposed 
 to make fun of an infirmity, are perhaps raid in 
 
 ia than anywhere else, because there respect for 
 
 nfirmities of nature is s almost a religion. 
 He continued arranging the room silently and a little 
 
 adly; his glance encountered De*miane's every mo- 
 tnent ; their hands met on the same article, but neither 
 one nor the other wished to speak, and the silence 
 weighed on them heavily. It was not that they were 
 
 lightly vexed with each other, far from it. but ea<-h one 
 
 f them had feelings which he did not wish to commu- 
 nicate to the other, Ddmiane through modesty, Victor 
 
 hrough false shame. 
 The latter, seeing that his brother would not change 
 
 lis resolution, plunged into a new current of thought. 
 
 They would be obliged one day or another to abandon 
 
 he solitude in which they lived. Would lie have the 
 sad courage to allow r Demiane to confront alone the tor- 
 
160 MARKOF. 
 
 ments of his first concert ? Monsieur Roussof had said 
 that the young violinist must enter the Conservatoire 
 the next winter ; would Victor all his life deny him- 
 self the pleasure of going there after him, of being 
 present at his examinations, of hearing him proclaimed 
 a first prize candidate, that first prize about which they 
 both dreamed in their hours of revery? The young 
 man said in his thought that he would never forgive 
 himself for depriving his brother of so precious a 
 sympathy at that solemn moment. 
 
 That point gained, Victor asked himself why he 
 should not begin that very day to burn his ships and 
 to kill his pride, since he would have to come to it one 
 day or another, and he did not hesitate long. With a 
 heroism of which he was far from being conscious, he 
 put his foot on what he called his selfishness, and, not 
 without a secret pang, he decided that even on that 
 very day, he would empty in one draught the cup of 
 humiliation. 
 
 That will be best, said he, in order to persuade him- 
 self that he had only been a coward until then; at 
 least, after this trial, I shall have no more fear. I shall 
 know what it is ! I am a man, and I must be brave 
 and not fear to throw myself into the water if I wish to 
 know how to swim. 
 
 After having encouraged himself in this way, the 
 young man raised his eyes boldly to his brother's face ; 
 but the latter avoided his look, not wishing to let him 
 read any regret in his eyes, and he was obliged to call 
 him. 
 
 "Ddmiane," said he to him, "do you know, we must 
 
M A RK O F . 1G1 
 
 go to this ball. I have reflected, and I was wrong. 
 We know nothing of the world; it is neccssai-v t> 
 learn how others do; and it will not be by remaining 
 in our shell that we shall ever know it. If you do not 
 think to the contrary, we will go with Andre.'* 
 
 "And if they make fun of } T OU?" continued 
 Ddmiane, moved in his turn at the thought of a ] 
 ble humiliation happening to his dear elder brother. 
 Without wishing to listen to Victor's protestations, who 
 assured him that it had never occurred, and never 
 would, Ddmiane shook his strong arms : " If any one 
 makes fun of you, brother, he will not do so twice, I' 
 answer for it ! " 
 
 And at once our friends began their preparations for 
 what they called with the boldness of innocence: 
 " Going into the world." 
 10 
 
162 MARK OF. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GOING INTO THE WOULD. 
 
 THE G-esellscJiaft was held in the fourth story of i 
 high and ugly house, in one of the finest street* 
 in the German quarter of the city ; it had low ceiling; 
 which were as smoke-begrimed as possible and it waf 
 badly lighted by candles, which wonderfully resemblec 
 tallow ones. These two ball rooms communicated witl 
 a restaurant decorated by the name of " buffet" when 
 a quantity of all kinds of pork-meat, together with bee: 
 and schnapps, was sold in abundance. As etiquetti 
 and elegance are the first laws of polite society, al 
 these rooms, comprising a corridor called by the narm 
 of "smoking-room," were ornamented with curtains ii 
 the embrasures of the doors ; but the doors had beei 
 taken off in order to facilitate communication, and thi 
 perfume of garlic-sausages, mingled agreeably with tha 
 of Hamburg pipes and the horribly strong cigars tha 
 the Germans prefer to sweet-scented tobacco. 
 
 The first impression was painful to the olfactory nerve 
 of our friends, who were but little accustomed to sucl 
 complicated mixtures, and then one gets used t< 
 everything they ceased to suffer from it after a fe\ 
 moments. Victor was surprised. De'miane was disap 
 pointed ; he found the ceilings low, the air heavy, th 
 illumination poor, the women red faced, and the mei 
 badly dressed. He had dreamed of something else 
 
MARKOF. 168 
 
 Alas"! how seldom in our lives do we find that the real it \- 
 equals our dreams. There are so many who pass away 
 with all their illusions dispelled. 
 
 The music sounded and the men hastened towards the 
 women, who seated along the wall, under the yellow 
 light of the candles, were threatened with a deluge of 
 tallow, happily the prudent majordomo had nut been 
 sparing in placing glass rims around them and evi-rv 
 one began to turn methodically to the sounds of one of 
 Strauss' waltzes. O Strauss ! king of the waltz, was it 
 for Teuton feet that you gave wings to the JY/y/-'/-/i 
 Blattern to the Blauen Donau and to so many other 
 daughters of your brain? Did you think that the 
 Viennese alone would dance to your melodies on the 
 tips of their agile toes? Vienna waltzes have gone 
 around the world ; they are danced in contre-tempis in 
 Paris, and in measure in Moscow, as in Berlin and even 
 in Potsdam ; but there, large flat feet turn round on all 
 their length at once, like an elephant's, and for all the 
 melody can do, it cannot succeed in detaching from the 
 ground the bodies which balance themselves with the 
 grace o a white bear digesting his food, but they are 
 always in time ! Now, which is better in an a-sthetical 
 point of view : to waltz in time and in the most un- 
 graceful fashion, or in centre-temps, in opposition to com- 
 mon sense, as in Paris, but with that smiling 
 tura of people who think themselves perfect, and i 
 imagine anything better. 
 
 D^miane could not have solved the question ; lie 
 gravely watched the couples passing before him, ami 
 asked himself how they managed not to tread on 
 
164 MARK OF. 
 
 other's feet. Having found this problem too difficult, 
 he contented himself by looking at the women who 
 were around him. They were for the most part good, 
 fat cooks, whose large red hands made their cheap gloves 
 split open; the ladies'-maids could be recognized by 
 their more elegant dress and impertinent manners. One 
 can never understand the distance that separates 
 German lady's-maid from her compatriot, a cook; the 
 latter class, moreover, feel their inferiority, and content 
 themselves by getting richer all the faster, which is 
 memorable compensation. 
 
 There were also present some Russians, married to 
 Germans, and looking somewhat out of place ; but when 
 one dances, language is of but little importance, anc 
 these ladies waltzed with as great a zest as though they 
 had known Goethe by heart. 
 
 " Well," said Andre* to our friend, " are you nol 
 going to dance ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said De*miane, alarmed, " I do not know 
 how!" 
 
 " What does that matter? One never knows how th( 
 first time ! Do you imagine that all these good people 
 have had a dancing-master ? Do as the others do ! " 
 
 The waltz ended, a quadrille was formed, and one 
 saw in every direction, anxious looking men, parleying 
 on the subject of a vis-a-vis. 
 
 " Go ! " said Andre, pushing the young man forwardJ 
 
 " I don't know any one." 
 
 " Neither do I, in the way of women, at least ; butj 
 never mind that, I am going to present you. To which] 
 one? Here are two very nice " 
 
MARKOF. 105 
 
 "I do not know German, almost nothing of it " 
 
 "They are speaking Russ in that corner, almost as 
 well as you can speak German; there is a re<l-haired 
 one, a brunette, and a flaxen-haired blonde; to which 
 of them do you wish me to. present you ? " 
 
 Demiane hesitated, and his companion dragged him 
 before the young brunette, and said aloud : 
 
 "Monsieur Markof!" After which he turned his 
 sack and went to join Victor, who, half-hidden by a 
 curtain, looked on enchanted. 
 
 The young brunette bowed and smiled ; Markof ven- 
 tured to ask her for the quadrille, while confessing in 
 a low tone that he did not know how to dance. 
 
 " Oh ! that is nothing," replied his partner; "do you 
 speak German ? " 
 
 " Very little ; and you, do you speak Russ ? " 
 
 " Not much. But that is nothing." 
 
 Since everything was nothing, everything was for the 
 )est, and Demiane, directed to do so by his partner 
 r orth in quest of a vis-a-vis; he found one who was 
 running about from group to group for the same pur- 
 pose, and two minutes later, Ddmiane made his d< fmt 
 n the world, pushed and dragged by his partner, \\liu 
 made him turn round exactly like a stick. 
 
 It was with intense relief that he saw a time of 
 repose come; while the dancers on the othei ->i!e <!' tin; 
 quadrille executed in their turn the first fi^nr- 
 spoke to the young lady, who was fanning h-i>t-lf < 
 jetically : 
 
 " It is tiresome," said he to her, " not to be able to 
 express what one thinks." 
 
166 M A K K O F . 
 
 The young girl looked as though she thought there 
 were a thousand ways of expressing what one thinks, 
 and that one can always discover at least one of them ; 
 but she did not know enough Russ to say so with mod- 
 esty, nor her cavalier enough German to understand it, 
 without having it fully expressed. She contented her- 
 self with throwing him a coquettish glance, and with 
 laughing rather loudly, without restraining herself. 
 
 "What is your name?" said Demiane, feeling en- 
 couraged. 
 
 "Caroline Neuman; and you, Monsieur Markof? 
 What is your first name ? " 
 
 " Demiane." 
 
 " It is pretty." 
 
 " Caroline is prettier." 
 
 *' I do not think so." 
 
 u It is your turn, there ! " cried the voice of the 
 duncing-manager, and Demiane threw himself wildly 
 into the quadrille, provoking a burst of laughter among 
 the dancers. Ashamed of his mistake, he stopped short, 
 and Caroline was obliged to take him by the arm in 
 order to bring him back to the regular step. This inci- 
 dent put them on a very intimate footing, and when 
 the quadrille was over, Demiane had the promise of a 
 second contre-danse. 
 
 " You must also try a waltz or polka," said the young 
 lady, with a winning smile. 
 
 " I do not know how ! " 
 
 " I will teach you. Come and engage me for the 
 first polka." 
 
 And thus Demiane found himself provided with a 
 dancing and a German professor at the same time. 
 
M A RKO F 
 
 167 
 
 Delighted at this brilliant debut, and not thinking of 
 | engaging another partner, he went to join his brother. 
 "It is amusing, is it not?" said he to him, while 
 | wiping his brow, for it was very hot. 
 
 " Why, yes ! " replied Victor amiably, who \\ ;u 
 (beginning to feel sick at his stomach, thanks to the 
 united odors of the food and tobacco. " You have been 
 [dancing? You have amused yourself? Ah! well, so 
 inch the better." 
 
 "And you, will you not dance ? " 
 " How can you think of such a thing ? I amuse 
 Imyself looking at you doing so ; it is very pretty, and 
 (then, you dance well." 
 
 This blindness of fraternal love made D6miane laugh, 
 ind Victor joined with him, and then sent him away to 
 [enjoy his success. Emboldened by two or three turns 
 | of the waltz which he had tried without too much dizzi- 
 less, intoxicated by the warm air, by the light, and by 
 Ithat indefinable something that is always ready to 
 [burst forth from twenty-year-old brains, like corks from 
 champagne bottle, Dmiane noticed a little blonde, 
 diom her cavalier had just escorted to her chair. 1 1 
 >ut his arm around her waist and they both started to 
 tingle in the vortex, pitilessly knocking against tin-, 
 >ther waltzers, but waltzing all the same, if you ph 
 
 When the orchestra stopped, Ddmiane returned to 
 Caroline, who favored him with a scene of jealousy. 
 " What," said she, " it was I who taught you how to 
 mce, and then you go and dance with another ? " 
 "But," answered Demiane judiciously enough, "you 
 Iso danced with other men ! " 
 
168 M A K K O F. 
 
 " Oh ! I ! it is not the same thing ! It was in order 
 not to be compromised by you." 
 
 At the thought that he could compromise a young 
 lady, Demiane became crimson with shame and satis- 
 faction. This idea opened new horizons to him, and 
 might have opened many others, but for his naivete* 
 and his want of worldly knowledge ; and Caroline was 
 obliged to make up for it. .They began by mending 
 their quarrel, arid then Demiane learned that she was a 
 dressmaker ; that she left her workshop at eight o'clock 
 at night, that she lived near the church of the Saviour, 
 and that she always went home alone. Consequently 
 he announced to her that he should go the very next 
 evening to see if she had told him the truth ; she assured 
 him she would never forgive him for such mistrust, and 
 they both were perfectly certain that they had given 
 each other a rendezvous the next evening at eight 
 o'clock, which inspired them with the most contagious 
 merriment. 
 
 It was about ten o'clock, and the ball was at the height 
 of its beauty, except that the ladies were too red-faced, 
 and that the gentlemen talked too loud, thanks to the 
 refreshments, when a group of young men gathered 
 under the chandelier. They laughed and talked as 
 loudly as possible, like people who have no secrets ; they 
 were evidently the flower of the club. The orchestra 
 was refreshing itself also, and the violinist had gone to 
 join them. It was he who filled the position of chef 
 d'orchestre, and at the same time played the first violin, 
 so that he had a right to especial consideration. After 
 talking a moment, he accepted a glass of beer and went ; 
 
M A R K O F . 
 
 169 
 
 toward the buffet with his friends. This libation was 
 not the first one, and the artist stairs-red slightly as 
 he rejoined the group. Ill luck would have it, that 
 he then observed Victor, who had kept himself hall- 
 hidden, but who, emboldened by the company's paying 
 no attention to him, had ventured leaving the tut 
 shelter of his curtain. 
 
 "What, is that Esop?" exclaimed the musician, 
 with a loud, sarcastic laugh. ''Where do you fall 
 from, my friend? Go away and hide your hump; we, 
 [only want handsome men here like ourselves ! " 
 
 He drew himself up with satisfaction, and passed his 
 fingers through his hair which was covered with 
 pomade. De*miane rushed into the middle of the group 
 I who had joined the musician in chorus : 
 
 " It is my brother ! " cried he, " and I forbid you to 
 Imake sport of him ; he is worth more in his little finger 
 [than you in all your fat body ! " 
 
 He spoke in Russ, but every one understood him. 
 |With his flashing eyes, his hair thrown back, his nos- 
 brils trembling, he was so handsome that Mademoiselle 
 [Caroline fell desperately in love with him, and all the 
 romen cried out in one voice : 
 
 He is perfectly right ! men are cowards ! " 
 
 " A poor cripple ! " screamed a voice that was so 
 
 larp it overpowered the tumult. 
 
 It was Caroline's. 
 
 The assemblage, suddenly waxing tempestuous, was 
 livided into two parties. The master of ceremonies, 
 tor the G-esellschaft possessed one, no less than the 
 1/OTirt, addressed a slight reproach to the musician, in 
 
170 MARKOF. 
 
 regard to his want of charity and proper behavior. 
 The latter who was not quite sober, and felt that he 
 himself was in fault, forced a passage in a brutal 
 manner through the crowd of men, pushing aside at 
 the same time, not a few women, who began to scream 
 like peacocks. 
 
 "Ah! they blame me," exclaimed he, "on account 
 of a miserable hunchback, who has stolen in among 
 us ? That's very well, that's very well, find some one 
 who will make you dance." 
 
 He plunged into the vestibule, seized his overcoat 
 and his galoches, which had a place to themselves, 
 and grumbling, disappeared down the stairway. 
 
 All looked at each other with astonishment. No 
 cTief-cT orchestre, no longer any violinist, therefore no 
 more dancing. Public opinion turned immediately 
 against De*miane. 
 
 " It is your fault," cried twenty hoarse voices, " what 
 have you come here for ? Put the strangers out ! Here 
 we are without any music." 
 
 "Without music?" cried Ddmiane, "is that what 
 disturbs you ? He has left his violin behind him, the 
 fool ! I will play you some music ! " 
 
 He bounded on the platform, seized the violin which 
 the capell-meister had left to the care of his subordinates, 
 in the haste of his flight and vigorously attacked a 
 waltz of Lanner's, which was then very fashionable and 
 which he had played a hundred times. The other 
 musicians sprang quickly to their instruments and 
 caught up with him as best they could ; couples were 
 formed and put themselves in motion, while public 
 
MARKOF. 171 
 
 pinion, changing its irrevocable verdict for the tliinl 
 ime in five minutes, greeted De*niiane with a frantic 
 urrah. 
 
 Impassive, not even deigning to smile, so miu-li did 
 e feel himself above the fantastic multitude, the youn^ 
 nan conducted his four musicians, as though he had 
 ever done anything else all his life. The aijn-ll- 
 leister's violin was a good instrument, far above tin- 
 ifice it was made to fill ; and Ddmiane experienced a 
 trange delight in hearing it resound in his ear, and in 
 eeling it vibrate on his breast; he also felt a singular 
 ride in ruling the crowd that had been so lately hostile 
 o him, and which he now felt was at his mercy. I{ - 
 ^retfully he saw the waltz end ; he would have liked 
 o have played thus always, lost in an atmosphere 
 ntoxicating with triumph for himself and with con- 
 empt for others. 
 
 When he put down his bow, he was surrounded by 
 he company who implored him to continue, and the 
 nusicians themselves, delighted at what might injure 
 heir leader are not people always delighted at what 
 annoy a higher power offered their compliments 
 o Ddmiane. 
 
 " You have a great deal of talent," said t lie master 
 ceremonies to him. "Will you do me tin- honor of 
 accepting a glass of beer?" 
 
 "On condition that my brother is invited with 
 )emiane proudly answered. 
 
 Victor shared the young musician's ovation, and two 
 lours later they left the place with Andn', who had 
 milosophically looked on at the whole affair, without 
 
172 M'AEKOF. 
 
 being astonished at anything, and who had cried out 
 repeatedly in favor of his friends. 
 
 " They asked me for your address," said he to De*mi- 
 ane, "they will come to-morrow and offer you the 
 capell^neister's bdton. Be prepared for the proposition, 
 and do not let yourself be dazzled by such a brilliant 
 prospect." 
 
 "It is not possible ! " said Demiane astonished. 
 
 " Yes, since I tell you so. Only if you accept, you 
 will be overthrown in two weeks' time, by him whose 
 place you take to-day, and who will be restored to 
 favor. You will have a great deal of trouble in making 
 your way, my friend. I have studied you now for three 
 months ; no one will ever do anything with you, because 
 you do not intrigue ! " 
 
 It happened as Andre had predicted, and Ddmiane 
 for the first time in his life, was able to give himself 
 the royal pleasure of refusing a position. 
 
MARKOF. 17) 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 MARKOF'S VISION. 
 
 THE winter ended quietly. De*miane learned Ger- 
 man, which he spoke very well, and Victor began 
 to manufacture very nicely a cheap guitar, for tip 
 of amateurs of modest fortune, when tin; spring re- 
 turned to cover Moscow with that veil of dust, which 
 is as natural to it as leaves to forest trees. The young 
 musician was preparing himself to puss the examination 
 for entering the Conservatoire, but a new fear paraly/rd 
 his fingers on the vibrating strings: he began to 
 the insufficiency of his first studies, and ask re I hi: 
 if they would ever admit to the great masters' It 
 a pupil endowed with so strange a fingering and s 
 audacious a handling of the bow. Monsieur K ; 
 had procured for him several times tickets to coin 
 and he had been able to compare the playing of arti>ts 
 with his own: sometimes with the same passionate 
 vehemence, and they played occasionally with lightn- 
 and more conventional feeling, but the delicacy of 
 their shades, the perfection of their rendering 
 couraged the young man, who already knew enough to 
 appreciate the distance that separated him fi 
 virtuosi. 
 
 One spring evening, he was waiting for Victor who 
 was a little late, and in order to enjoy the -SB of 
 
 a first warm, clear evening, after the long rainy nights 
 
174 MARKOF. 
 
 of the preceding month, he opened his window, w T hich 
 had been recently freed from its double panes. The 
 scant lilacs that ornamented the small garden, were 
 budding, precociously and already the little brown 
 bunches could be seen shooting forth among the pale 
 green leaves ; it was a promise, and D^miane breathed 
 with delight the odor of the newly born sap that the 
 wind wafted from the neighboring country. As a good 
 scholar, he took up his violin, and to charm away the 
 time of waiting, he played some exercises ; then, uncon- 
 sciously, his fingers quitted their well known motions 
 to create some capricious sounds, which he allowed to 
 group themselves together by chance. A melody came 
 forth; it resembled those he had played an hundred 
 times; but, after a minute, this song arose and leaving 
 the known commonplaces flew away into space with 
 the young man's thoughts. He played, and his mind 
 put on strong wings, that bore him wholly away, body 
 and soul, above the little and vulgar things of this 
 world. 
 
 Demiane, finding himself lost in space, soared above 
 the small gray house, which was so peacefully still and 
 in which no artificial light disturbed the sweetness of 
 the declining day. The quiet square through which 
 no one passed except at the hours of the railway-trains 
 to reach the unfrequented station, was also not lighted. 
 In the soft, mellow light of the still, hazy atmosphere, 
 small hired droskies passed slowly along, drawn by 
 weary horses at walking pace and driven by sleepy 
 coachmen, and this silent procession seemed to Demiane 
 the passing of a vision. Was it a sweeter day, and a 
 
M A n K O F 
 
 175 
 
 more delicate light tluit bathed the bas-reliefs of tho 
 Parthenon at night? Had Orpheus more touching 
 prayers with which to bid the stones group tl 
 in harmony? 
 
 The young man played, and all within him and 
 without assumed a divine, ideal purity: he had quite 
 forgotten Caroline and the want of refinement of In T 
 dwelling the young German girl existed no longer 
 for him, as he saw slowly rising above the earth on 
 a level with his half-closed eyes, the mysterious and 
 symbolically grouped figures of the Panathena3a. 
 
 Why did Greece thus visit this obscure and unculti- 
 vated boy, who was ignorant of almost every thing 
 Relating to her, and who only knew of her through 
 what some photographs and drawings had shown him, 
 or what a few lines read here and there by chance in 
 (some half-opened book at one of his pupils, had taught 
 
 rim during his time of waiting? It was perhaps the 
 
 indent fable of Orpheus which had awakened in him 
 sacred rhythm of the old dances. He played 
 forgetful of the world, unconscious of the growing 
 
 )bscurity, his eyes lost in the adorable dimness of tin; 
 
 twilight, and he stopped to listen to the voice within 
 
 n'm, which was dictating his melody. 
 
 How beautiful that is, brother!" said Yktor, stop- 
 
 )ing before him with his hands clasped in ecstasy. 
 He approached, but had not dared to enter for fear of 
 
 listurbing the musician and he listened from without 
 
 waning against the little garden's hedge. 
 'Is it beautiful? Listen again," and Domain. 
 
 iommenced; but the fashion of his song had changed. 
 
176 MARKOF. 
 
 He foresaw his future glorj^, and fujl of pride and 
 enthusiasm, he ruled the world. Continuing his dream, 
 he was Alexander entering conquered cities on a chariot 
 drawn by six white horses. The vanquished kings 
 marched at his side in the dust, and the four-stringed 
 lyres sang his glory and his omnipotence. The world 
 was his ! Then his inspiration exhausted, brought him 
 again to earth, and after a few undecided notes, he 
 began to play with incredible fire Veniavsky's cele- 
 brated polonaise. All his wishes, all his desires con- 
 centrated themselves in this truly extraordinary 
 inspiration, which has no rival of its kind ; and Victor, 
 who was enraptured, clapped his hands at the first 
 moment of rest. 
 
 The train from Nijni arrived, and a few travellers 
 traversed the square in drosky or on foot, but De*miane 
 paid no heed to them. His own inspiration might 
 perhaps have been disturbed by a return to real life, 
 but the execution of a master's work, overpowering the 
 commonplace sounds, seemed to him an affirmation of 
 his strength and of the power of art. 
 
 In the semi-obscurity that is usual on such lovely j 
 spring nights, two travellers, one of whom carried a] 
 violin-box, were crossing the square slowly, when the 
 younger stopped to listen to the music -that was sol 
 wonderful, heard at that hour and in that place. 
 
 " It is the Polonaise, the true and only Polonaise^ 
 said the younger of the two to his companion, " and it) 
 is not at all badly played! It is absurd, it resembles- 
 nothing, and he who is playing it is not an ordinary) 
 person ! Who the devil can the coxcomb be ? " 
 
M A i: K n i- 
 
 177 
 
 Walking in the dust, they uppruai hed the old house 
 and perceived Victor, who was li>trning witli all his 
 soul, leaning against the balustrade. The >unds came 
 forth from the dark window and nothing could ! N ,-n 
 from outside. 
 
 " Who is playing inside there ? " tlie traveller asked 
 Victor, trembling. 
 
 "It is my brother," replied the young man wiih 
 pride mingled with anxiety. 
 
 Perhaps one had no right to play the violin so late, 
 with the windows open! Were they breaking some 
 police regulation? Would they have to pay a fine? 
 Heavens! what would become of them? 
 
 " I). 'mi. me." >aid the poor boy, with a 
 "brother, stop!" 
 
 Xot at all, not at alM let him continue, on the 
 trary!'' said the new comer. "It is very curious \\haL 
 he i- doing there. Who taught it to him '.' n 
 
 "No one, sir; he practised his scales." 
 
 "If he will work, lie can become a gn-a; 
 
 "On hearing some one speaking, Demianc stopped 
 playing; he approached the \vindo\v to call his 1m. 
 
 k - Young man," said the traveller, "come here, I would 
 like to speak to you." 
 
 Surprised and also a little anxious as Victor had 1 
 the musician obeyed. 
 
 "I have just come from giving a concert at Nijni," 
 said the stranger, "I \ -ing here on foot, for I do 
 
 not live far; your music has suiprisrd me. Have you 
 been playing long like this all ah*:. 
 
 "For very nearly four years," replied IK'miane, feel- 
 11 
 
178 MARK OF. 
 
 ing suddenly that he was in the presence of an arbiter 
 of his fate. 
 
 "Would you like to enter the Conservatoire?" 
 
 " I have no other ambition." 
 
 " Come to see me to-morrow. Here is my card." 
 
 The darkness prevented Demiane from reading il 
 and perhaps also concealed the nervous trembling tha 
 had taken possession of him. 
 
 " My name is Verlomine," said the stranger, smilin 
 slightly. 
 
 At this illustrious name, which had reinstated in 
 struction on the violin at the Conservatoire, where i 
 had fallen into decay, Demiane wished to express hi 
 delight and gratitude, but the two travellers' faces wer 
 already lost in the gray evening shadows, and thei 
 outlines could hardly be distinguished on the dust) 
 back ground of the square. 
 
 " What an adventure ! " said Victor, when he hac 
 recovered his speech. 
 
 " The future is mine ! " cried Demiane brandishin 
 his bow. 
 
MAKKOK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ADMITTED TO THE CONSERVATOIRE. 
 
 next day the young musician returned from his 
 visit both down-hearted and glad. He hud been 
 idniitted by favor to follow the classes at the Con> r- 
 vatoire as a listener, so as to impress upon himself the 
 importance of method, and the celebrated Professor 
 iad declared to him that he knew nothing and that 
 ivery thing was to be begun over again from the A 11 
 u of music. 
 
 " Only think, Victor, to begin over everything again 
 rom the beginning. He said it was far worse than if 
 
 had learned nothing. But I do not believe it, par 
 xemple! He said so to prevent me from thinking 
 lyself too learned, but if at my age I knew nothing, it 
 rould not be worth while for me to begin ! " 
 
 A certain contentment shone through Ddmiane's dis- 
 ppointment; he had divined under the nia>ter'sdiscour- 
 ging words the certainty of his growing talent. The 
 let alone of having been admitted to listen to the 
 Lires during the two months that were to pass before 
 le classes were over, was of itself an enconr.i. 
 ad the young man understood it. Mun>imr Kmisaof 
 
 id the same thing to him when he told him of 
 iventure; and from his protector's satisfaction, I >e mi- 
 ne felt confirmed in the belief that they expected a 
 reat deal from him, if he were willing to work. 
 
180 MARK OF. 
 
 Our friend was not frightened about the work. His 
 dreamy and unmanageable nature quickly submitted to 
 the necessity of a continual struggle. His father would 
 have been much irritated to have seen how the youth 
 who was so rebellious to the yoke of the paternal house 
 had bent himself to the discipline he had imposed upon 
 himself; and would not have failed to have cried out 
 about the inconstancy of character in general, and 
 about his son's perversity in particular, who now con- 
 sented to submit to all remonstrances, when at home, 
 would never bear any whatever. 
 
 It was in truth with great philosophy that Ddmiane 
 bore all scoffings from the pupils at the Conservatoire, 
 who looked upon him as a curious animal, and also the 
 Professor's caustic remarks, who justly or unjustly i 
 passed for possessing the sharpest sarcasm in all Mos- 
 cow. He bore not only with a stoical resignation, bud 
 with a sort of ascetic enthusiasm, the humiliations of 
 all kinds which his position of an un-classed pupil drew, 
 down upon him, and even after a few days he found the 
 life charming, doubtless more on account of what it 
 promised him, than what it then gave him. 
 
 The time for the examinations arrived, and De'mianej 
 was received with all sorts of admonitions and ironical 
 remarks from his Professor ; but he was received, and 
 that idea gave him wings. He regaled Victor once morff 
 with a serenade of his own composition, but eitheE 
 from the influence of his daily lessons, or from a parti 
 cular state of his mind, he did not reach the ethereal- 
 heights he had touched on the day that decided his fate. 
 
 " I do not know what is the matter with me," said 
 
MARK OF. 181 
 
 he to his brother, "what I am playing is good for 
 othing!" 
 
 "Well, Ddmiane, keep to your lessons, that is bett.-r 
 r you meanwhile." 
 
 This mentor's advice was faithfully followed, and 
 iring the summer months the little building nrar 
 e railway resounded only to the acrobatic e.xn 
 tecuted by Ddmiane on all the strings of his instru- 
 ent. 
 
 "Ah!" sighed he from time to time, "if I only had 
 passably good violin ! " 
 
 Victor sighed also, more profoundly, perhaps; but 
 iyety soon returned to their home, and they were 
 metimes so frolicsome, that even Petit-Cms, who had 
 3come with the passing months almost a serious < at. 
 ould not always condescend to share their romp-, 
 id ing them beneath its feline dignity. 
 Andrd had taken a fancy to his new nei^hl. 
 horn at first he had desired to know a li(tlc from 
 iriosity, a little out of the goodness of his heart, and 
 little also to enjoy his superiority over them. For all 
 le may have overcome many social errors and pro- 
 ssed the most stoical philosophy, one is al\\. 
 ad to be able to make some one say: "There i> a 
 ever man ! " -were the same person only om-'> 
 aker, one's baker, or the woman who sells on. 
 
 the shop on the corner. Andre had li\ed fr so 
 ng a time with persons who were entirely dill. : 
 om him in their manners, their iastes. and their intel- 
 ctual level, that a little pride could be well 
 
 jrmitted to him. 
 
182 M A R K O F . 
 
 After a few days he found pleasure in De'miane's 
 society, and a sort of tenderness was awakened in j 
 him in regard to Victor; he felt pity for him on 
 account of his infirmity, and an affection for him i 
 because of his good-natured disposition. This tender- 
 ness had very soon become esteem ; the profound self- 
 denial of the poor being, whose misfortune might have 
 rendered him morose and whimsical, the simplicity 
 with which he cut himself off, so to speak, from the 
 world of living people, claiming at the most, to be fit 
 only to play a supernumerary's part, touched him to the 
 depths of his soul. Andre knew that really good men 
 are rare, and deserve that statues should be erected to ' 
 them on the public squares, which would never be 
 crowded, he added. Instead of amusing himself outside, i 
 as he formerly did, after having vainly endeavored: 
 once or twice to entice our friends to a caf, by 1 
 promising to bear the expense, he fell into the habit; 
 of sharing their tea, or of making them share his own, 
 evenings. The small " upper-room," with its three 
 guests, heard many strange propositions laid down 
 during the long winter of probation which Ddmianej 
 passed before entering the Conservatoire. It was, 
 perhaps, the high range of these conversations that] 
 prematurely ripened Petit-Gris' character, who grcAVi 
 wearied of hearing them moralize, in regard to her own 
 case, and also in regard to that of many bipeds ; never-! 
 theless, one was almost sure of finding toward nine 
 o'clock in the evening, the three friends gathered; 
 round the table, with the samovar at one end and the 
 cat at the other, as a mate to it. 
 
MARK OF. 183 
 
 The summer had at last come, torrid and d 
 laking the stray dogs, which are almost as numerous 
 t Moscow as at Constantinople, loll their tun. 
 iving happy people frightful nightmares, in which 
 ydrophobia played the principal part. The paint mi 
 be small wooden house was peeling nff in the sun. 
 
 "It will take fire one of these fine mornin. 
 Lndrd, who went out from time to time to assure him- 
 elf that no unusual smoke yet rose from the i 
 but one warms one's self for nothing, and the proprie- 
 fess is pleased." 
 
 The three friends found that fact charming, and 
 'etit-Gris found it more so. Stretched out all day in 
 be place which was the most exposed to the sun's rays, 
 ; lost its appetite. Every night, Andre found it n: 
 is window, overcome by the light and heat. 
 
 "It smells as though it were burned ; it is more than 
 alf baked," said the musical-instrument maker, taking 
 ; up by the skin of its neck, to turn it round and put it 
 n its paws. "It must have been a cat which u 
 be sun, but who taught the cat to mew, together with 
 be art of catching mice? Religious beliefs may be 
 erfected by a change, but no one has ever found 
 ny thing superior to the cat in the way of catching 
 lice." 
 
 Victor had grown accustomed to his whin, 
 larks, and smiled honestly, because Dcmiane 
 ithout understanding them very well. The 1, 
 ad caught a little of his friend's turn of mind, and 
 
 ictor almost always understood him, of which fact he 
 as extremely proud; besides, he thought hi.> brother 
 
184 MARK OF. 
 
 possessed more cleverness than any one, no matter who, 
 011 the face of the earth, it being remembered that he 
 knew but an infinitely small number of persons on the 
 globe. 
 
 One particular evening when Andr, returning home 
 with Victor, announced, "that Petit-Gris would be 
 nice to make coffee of the next day, because she was 
 roasted," Demiane, who returned before them, showed 
 them from the window a square envelope. They hast- 
 ened their steps and approached the garden, so as to 
 hear the news quicker. 
 
 "Victor," said the young musician, "imagine! our 
 sister is going to be married, and father has asked us to 
 go to the wedding ! " 
 
 " And I ? They have not invited me? " said Andre 
 he stopped suddenly and held out his arm to sustain 
 Victor, who had very nearly fallen to the ground.' 
 "What is this? a weakness? a swoon? as the French 
 marquises of the Eighteenth Century said; or ''vapors,^ 
 as the great Catherine used to say, who knew a great' 
 deal about them." 
 
 As he was speaking, he seized Victor by the collar^ 
 of his coat with extraordinary force, and carried rather 
 than led him into the room, at the risk of strangling 
 him with his cravat. 
 
 " Thank you," said Victor in a sweet voice, when he 
 had regained his breath and was seated. "It is joy, 
 you see." 
 
 " Joy at seeing your sister married, you great simple- 
 ton?" 
 
 " No, not that, that is indifferent to me ; I mean it' 
 gives me pleasure, but " 
 
MARK OF. 185 
 
 "Yes, I understand that; it gives you pleasure, but 
 it is indifferent to you; the greater part ui' \vlmt gives 
 us pleasure enters into that category. \Vhat joy, 
 then?" 
 
 "To see my father again," murmured the young 
 man; "and he invites us, therefore he is no In: 
 angry. OhIDemiane! Are you not glad ?" 
 
 His hands feverishly clasped his brother's, and his 
 eyes, which were swimming in tears of joy, sought his 
 ook. 
 
 11 Yes, I am glad," replied Demiane, with a sincere 
 .mile. "I am very glad; first, because our father has 
 nvited us, and because, therefore, he is no longer 
 mgry; and then, because he is going to have a son'-in- 
 aw who will work for him, and because he can take 
 ome rest." 
 
 "That is so, my friends," said Andre*, who looked at 
 hem with his arms crossed, and with a certain moisture 
 n his china-blue eyes, to which he would not have con- 
 essed for an empire ; "it is very nice ; but do you know 
 vhat you are going to gain by this ? " 
 
 " A brother-in-law ?" hazarded Ddmiane smiling; he 
 vas truly touched, more from Victor's joy, than oi: 
 wn account. 
 
 4 You will gain the noblest independence by it, my 
 riends ! From the day that witnesses the fortu 
 narriage of your sister, the paternal allowance of ten 
 oubles a month will pass to the place of things that 
 -ere and that cannot be again, because they will 1. 
 iased to exist, like old moons and candles thai 
 urned down to their very ends." 
 
186 MAKKOF. 
 
 "Why?" asked Demiane, who was a little aston- 
 ished at these prophetic words. 
 
 " Simplicity of beautiful souls ! Would you send 
 ten roubles a month to your brother-in-law ? " 
 
 44 1 do not know ; but it is not he who sends them, it 
 is my father." 
 
 " And from the day on which he takes possession of 
 the cure, who will receive its revenues ? " 
 
 "He, naturally," replied Demiane with less assur- 
 ance, for he began to understand. 
 
 44 Well, my friends, eat a great deal of paternal food 
 at the splendid wedding ; try to store up provisions for 
 yourselves for the winter, under the form of fat and 
 succulent flesh, for you will be reduced next year to 
 your own resources, or I am a fool." 
 
 44 That cannot be ! " said Victor, recovering his speech. 
 44 Our father will not abandon us ! " 
 
 44 You certainly abandoned him, my good friends ! " 
 
 The two brothers lowered their heads at these words 
 that were so cruel in their curtness. 
 
 44 And remember well, my dear children, that I do 
 not say this to give you pain ! You have the right 
 to quarrel with me, and even to call me names. I 
 would not take it in bad part, under the circumstances. 
 I tell you so, because it is in this way that priests marry 
 their daughters, when they have no sons or when their 
 sons do not wish to take their places. If the young 
 lady had not been so impatient to submit to the yoke 
 of marriage, you might have found yourselves well off 
 when the painful news reached you. She was dying to 
 give herself a master; I regret it more for her sake 
 
M A RK O F. 187 
 
 than for yours, but nothing can be done. Von 
 probably think that your father has done \M 
 well, not at all. First he is acting in his full i -i^lr . 
 ;hen, one cannot resist a son-in-law who is going to five 
 one from one's daughter. I feel that if I, Andre- Lad of, 
 lad a daughter, and that a son-in-law presented himself 
 
 Come, my children, do not put on such a soriow- 
 ? ul look; really there is no cause for it ! " 
 
 "What shall we do?" asked Victor, while Ddmiane, 
 with his eyebrows contracted, was undergoing one of 
 iliose inward rebellions, which used to give him I lie 
 reputation of having a trying character. 
 
 "Accept your new situation with a good grace; find 
 10 fault which among other evils, would possess that of 
 >eing perfectly useless; even forestall, if the effort dors 
 not cost you too much, the painful announcement from 
 your father, which might bring between you a disagree- 
 ible feeling; tell him that you willingly renounce the 
 sacrifice he has imposed upon himself for you, and that 
 rou will henceforth support yourselves." 
 
 "You are right!" said Ddmiane, relaxing his eye- 
 >rows, which resumed their usual appearance. 
 
 "But," objected Victor, "should Andre be mi-ta- 
 ken ? " 
 
 "If I am mistaken, so much the better! Your 
 Mier will be glad to see that you can, in truth. snj- 
 )ort yourselves." 
 
 "But we just get on with what he gives us," timidly 
 nurmured the young invalid, who, in his portion of 
 jashier, knew better the resources of the household. 
 
 " You will deprive yourselves a little more ! You are 
 
188 MARK OF. 
 
 too happy, my friends, you do not know what poverty- 
 is, you are nabobs in comparison to what I was once. 
 Is it not shameful to accept your father's poor ten 
 roubles, when you have enough to eat every day and 
 several times a day ? Do you know that in those ten 
 roubles, there enters more privations in a month for 
 him, than you undergo during a whole year? But you 
 love your comforts, let us suppose that I have said 
 nothing. I have done wrong to meddle with what does 
 not concern me." 
 
 He turned on his heel to go to his room, a little hurt 
 and vexed at having to lessen the good opinion with 
 which his friends had inspired him, when Ddmiane 
 stopped him and put his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " You are right, Andre*," said he to him; "if we have 
 continued accepting this money, it is because we have 
 not realized how hard our father earns it. We will 
 give it up most willingly, and from to-day, will we not, 
 Victor?" 
 
 " Yes, brother," bravely replied the latter, electrified 
 by the younger's magnanimity. 
 
 " It is fortunate," concluded Andre*, that to-day is the 
 fifth, and that you drew your ten roubles on the first ! ' 
 
 To send invitations to people doubtless is all very 
 well, and proves an excellent nature, but vehicles cost 
 something; generally they cost very dear. Our friends 
 held a grand council in regard to the means by which 
 they should go to Gradovka and return again, without 
 selling their clothes, which was equally impracticable. 
 They had almost the necessary sum to go there ; but 
 with what should they return ? 
 
M ARKOF. 
 
 " Our father has probably thought of it," said Victor, 
 who was an optimist by nature. 
 
 "And suppose he has not thought of it? You well 
 know that we have not yet been able to return Mon- 
 sieur Roussof the money he lent us with which to mint* 
 here ! We cannot think of borrowing any more from 
 him." 
 
 The case was a serious one, and the two brothers 
 would have been in a cruel embarrassment but for 
 Andrews intervention, from whom they had no secrets, 
 and whom they took as confidant after his iir>t question. 
 
 "Is it money that you need?" said he, winking his 
 light-colored eyes maliciously. "I have some. IIu\v 
 much do you want? Speak, and we will bring out 
 from here the sum required." 
 
 He struck the side pocket of his jacket with so much 
 emphasis that his friends began to laugh, then D(hniane 
 said with an incredulous air : 
 
 " You have money ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! I have not put the Pactolus in bottles, 
 but I have a few small pears in my garret in case of 
 thirst! Moreover, I am a land-owner! I ha\> 
 income! Did you not know it? " 
 
 "Who would have said so of you?" said Ddm 
 very much surprised, while Victor, with staring eyes, 
 looked at their friend with new veneration and pro- 
 found amazement. 
 
 "That is too true, my dear children, for I con- 
 you both as young children, thanks to your cam lid 
 ignorance of life, I possess on the Don, very near its 
 mouth, an immense, phenomenal property, which my 
 
190 MARK OF. 
 
 uncle, a Cossack, left to me, for I have the blood of 
 Zaporogus in my veins; it does not appear in them 
 does it?" 
 
 "No, not at all," Victor replied innocently, as he 
 thought of the brown hair and black eyes which tradi- 
 tion gives to the Cossacks of the Don. 
 
 " It does not prevent my having it all the same ; but 
 probably it is all inside, in the middle of my veins ; it 
 must have been that rascally blood that played me the 
 trick of which you know, when I was a student. We 
 were saying then, that I possess an immense domain, 
 verstes in extent, my friends, square verstes of land ! The 
 steppe in all its beauty ! " 
 
 "Then you are rich?" said Demiane, a little hurt at 
 hearing so late that Andre* was a land-owner. 
 
 " Not at all ! I have the land, but nothing grows on 
 it ! That is to say grass grows there and the buffalo, 
 the one eats the other." 
 
 " But buffaloes are property, and they have a com- 
 mercial value." 
 
 " Yes, my good friends ; but my excellent uncle who 
 knew I had a hot head, this rascally blood, you 
 know! also left me an agent to protect his property 
 from my carelessness, when he should be no more. I 
 do not know whether my agent protects my property 
 from anything except myself, but he lives in my house, 
 drinks my cow's milk and sends me every year under 
 all circumstances " 
 
 He stopped to contemplate the faces of his friends 
 who were listening to him with mouths wide open, then 
 he laughed a moment and continued : 
 
M A K K OF. 
 
 * Two hundred and fiftv silver roubles on an . 
 ige." 
 
 "But he is a thief! " cried Demiane, while Vi. 
 ace expressed not a little pity. 
 
 "Ah! no, he is an honest man, after his ia>hion ; 1 
 
 >elieve he has a child, a girl or a boy, I don't know 
 
 .vhich, and he is very quietly accumulating a little pile 
 
 )f money according to that good man's ideas which do 
 
 10 harm to any one! Follow my reasoning or rather 
 
 lis: my uncle is dead; it was he who was the owner, 
 
 [ am only a picked up heir, an intruder; my uncle 
 
 night just as well have left his property to t 
 
 nan as to myself; and he committed a grave error in 
 
 referring me; therefore, there is neither crime, nor 
 
 left in repairing the injustice of a whimsical old man, 
 
 ho remembered me inopportunely. And the moral of 
 
 1 this is, that there are fifty roubles which you will 
 
 iturn to me when you can." 
 
 "It is a great sum," said Demiane with hesitation; 
 ut Ladof had shut his pocket-book so decidedly that 
 le young musician took the bank bill and made no 
 .her objection. After a moment, he added : 
 "Tell me, Andre*, if my question is not improper, 
 3w does it happen that you live here so poorly, when 
 m could be better lodged, better fed " 
 "Then, my dear fellow, I should have no money at 
 y disposition to give myself a little fancy, like to-< 
 nd then, to tell the truth, I was living I I 
 
 id the greatest trouble to make both ends meet, wln-n 
 lis fortune came to me unexpectedly; I remained 
 3re, and I am very glad that I did, since I met you." 
 
192 MARKOF. 
 
 The next Tuesday the two brothers took the dili- 
 gence ; their luggage filled but little space, but their 
 delight was as great as a mountain. When the vehicle 
 passed the last limits of Moscow, when the road entered 
 the forest, that eternal forest which one finds every 
 where in Russia, in the neighborhood of great and small 
 cities, De*miane seemed to come out of a dream, and he 
 began to laugh. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, in a low voice, " I forgot to speak to 
 Caroline about our journey." 
 
 That was the only regret he bestowed on his amiable 
 German teacher. 
 
MARK OP. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 PARACHA'S WEDDING. 
 
 3ARACHA had taken nearly ten years to make her 
 trousseau, but such a trousseau! Not a stitch of 
 that had not been accompanied with a bitter thought, 
 at least with impatience in regard to some im-mlicr 
 her family. Not a mesh of her stockings which 
 ight not have recalled to her her grievances against 
 nnanity in general and celibacy in particular. For- 
 inately thoughts do not appear upon clothes, and tin- 
 n betrothed girl was able to allow everything she, 
 id to be admired by the young girls who went to the 
 nise the day before the wedding for that purpose. 1 
 joicings which are usual at such a time among the 
 jople are not permitted to the clergy; tin- wedding 
 
 ^race by it, and gains nothing in character. 
 mug girls sat opposite one another in chairs rai 
 ong the walls, and looked at each other "full in tin- 
 res," according to the popular expression, but will. 
 ying a word; it was in this august company that 
 e two young men, who were much fatigued, appeared 
 r ter their journey. 
 
 Tke customary embraces were exchanged in tin- \ 
 ice of twenty strange persons, who were more or 
 ) friendly to these vagabond sons, who had d 
 e paternal roof no one knew why! onest 
 
 ;ople despised music so much that it had : -nee 
 
 12 
 
194 MARKOF. 
 
 for them, and in their opinion the profession of music 
 did not make one a musician any more than the fact of 
 swinging in a swing gives one a high social position ! 
 Poor Victor's heart was very full, and he would have 
 liked to clasp his mother in his arms, and to pet her as 
 in his childhood days, and to kiss with ardor the pater- 
 nal hand which re-opened the door that had been 
 closed to them so long. He was obliged to give up 
 all these simple joys, and sit down to a repast which 
 they offered them with great ceremony. Paracha 
 waited upon them with a modest demeanor, that was asj 
 natural a grace in her as everything else, but which] 
 seemed very remarkable to the two brothers. Her face] 
 was as shining as a pot of pomade, the effect of the 
 soap that had been used in too frequent lotions, and< 
 from repeated rubbings. She wore a dress of a yellow- 
 ish-gray color, which was the fashion fifteen years ago, 
 and which had miserably stranded on all the unex- 
 plored banks of small provincial towns. 
 
 In spite of this too brilliant exterior, the young girls, 
 we do not dare to say her friends, or her companions,; 
 or even her neighbors, for the daughters of priests have;; 
 neither friends, companions, nor neighbors, they are; 
 isolated beings, whom marriage alone permits to ap- 
 proach the human species, the young girls looked at 
 her with envy : in this lottery of life, had she not drawn 
 a husband? A husband, the most difficult object under 
 Heaven to procure for one's self. 
 
 This husband was not handsome, however, and should 
 not have excited jealousy ; his only merit was in being 
 excessively tall, which was brought about by capricious 
 
MARKOF. 195 
 
 nature, at the expense of his rotundity, and \vhit-h 
 made him greatly resemble a stalk of wild asparagus. 
 
 But he was a fine looking man, because he could not 
 pass under the door without stooping, and the general 
 opinion was one of approval. 
 
 " What do you say of our brother-in-law ? " Victor 
 asked Dmiane, when every one having gone to bed 
 they escaped into the garden to talk with freedom. 
 
 "Nothing at all; he is the most insignificant fellow 
 I have ever seen. Just the one whom Paracha needs 
 to rule as she pleases." 
 
 " Our father has grown old," continued Victor, witli 
 a sigh. " It is our fault." 
 
 " Yes, brother. But it is also our sister's fault. I 
 have never before perceived how unamiable she is." 
 
 " If we had remained " Victor began. 
 
 " We should have been unhappy, and our father 
 would have been none the less so. Our place is else- 
 where, brother. . Excepting our father and mother, all 
 these people here seem to me to have come from a 
 
 menagerie ! " 
 
 What must he have thought the next day, when tin- 
 menagerie formed the nuptial cortege and went to the 
 church under" a beautiful July sun I 
 
 The men were superb ; handsome priests and deacons 
 are sought after by good parishes. Bi>id->. tin- C.>IUIIM 
 of the Russian clergy, which permits the u><- "t i ; h ;md 
 sombre colors, and whose floating form lends so mm-h 
 dignity to the carriage, is generally gracefully worn. 
 The new robes, made of costly silk or woolen matt-rial, 
 with their large sombre violet, dark green, and reddish 
 brown sleeves, gave a particular appearance of nobility 
 
196 MARKOF. 
 
 and dignity. But their wives ! Crinoline had not yet 
 ended its reign, and the wide striped silk skirts, spread 
 themselves pompously over the balloons, displaying to 
 the bright daylight the enormous size of their plaids, 
 and the crudity of their shades. They manufacture in 
 Russia materials of rich heavy silks that are particu- 
 larly intended for the wives and daughters of priests, 
 and which never find any purchasers outside of that 
 class ; Paracha's wedding offered a remarkable assort- 
 ment of them. 
 
 The bride herself wore a dress with basques made of 
 superb brocaded damask, crimson on emerald green, 
 and every one admired the richness of her attire. Over 
 this she let float the classical veil of tulle, which was 
 surmounted by a crown of orange blossoms. A bouquet 
 of the latter at her waist completed her toilette, which 
 all the ladies agreed was perfect. 
 
 Father Kouzma was much moved when he blessed 
 his daughter. During the brief remarks which he made 
 to the couple before proceeding with the ceremony, his 
 eyes turned more than once to his wife, who was weep- 
 ing profusely. Why did she weep ? Her daughter was 
 not going to leave her, and moreover, any other than 
 herself would have considered her departure a blessing. 
 Perhaps she wept because it is the custom; perhaps 
 also, because she recalled the emotions which she 
 herself had formerly experienced under the nuptial 
 crown, and the misfortunes, the sorrows, the discour- 
 agements of the years that had since followed. Father 
 Kouzma's look also rested on his sons, who were re- 
 spectfully listening to him, and the sight of them 
 seemed to awaken a certain bitterness within him. 
 
MARKOF. 197 
 
198 MARKOF. 
 
 the strangest gambols ; but no one seemed to consider 
 such gymnastic feats as anything unusual, and every- 
 thing ended according to the rite. 
 
 The following days were passed in festivities ; then 
 little by little, the house was emptied, the newly mar- 
 ried pair went to make a visit to the young man's 
 father, and the cure found itself as it had been in the 
 past, but without Paracha, which did not seem to 
 trouble any of its inhabitants very much. 
 
 The paternal mansion did not possess all the charm 
 for our friends that they anticipated, and they were 
 obliged to confess to themselves that they had greatly 
 magnified it in their imagination. There is none among 
 us to whom it has not happened to dream for a long 
 while of some place formerly caught sight of, some 
 house visited in other times, some persons whom one 
 would have liked to have known better, and all at once, 
 through the chance of circumstances, to find oneself 
 borne toward that which one desired to see again. 
 How many can say that this return has not proved 
 more or less of a disenchantment ? It is because the 
 mirage of imagination is so powerful, that from a want 
 of a point of comparison in the present, it makes the 
 place seem more picturesque, the house larger, the 
 people handsomer or more intelligent than they in 
 truth are, and the reality appears very dim beside our 
 dreams. 
 
 Demiane and Victor perceived, for the first time, 
 what their former absence had previously prevented, 
 the scarcity of the furniture, the disorder of the house, 
 the servant-maids' effrontery, their mother's utter in- 
 difference, the severity of their father, who was sullen 
 
M A II K O F . 
 
 ways and sometimes unreasonable, and all these hcre- 
 tofore unobserved facts inspired the desire to ameliorate 
 as much as possible the lives of these honest pers'ii<. 
 which were full of wearing cares, due in great part to 
 their poverty. 
 
 "Andrd was quite right," said Victor one day to his 
 brother, "the money our father sends us costs him vcrv 
 dear." 
 
 " Shall we go and speak to him about it at once?" 
 asked Demiane, who was glad to see this idea fully 
 accepted by his brother, who till then had only half 
 adopted it. 
 
 They revealed their plan of reform to Father Kou/ma, 
 and the latter did not seem much surprised, which was 
 
 disappointment to our friends. When people are 
 
 ound together by a noble thought, it is very hard to 
 
 find themselves received coldly; a little sympathy would 
 
 so pleasant. But Father Kouzma did not appreciate 
 the sacrifices his children were making. Owing to the 
 'alse idea of the real value of money which p< 
 iave who supply almost all of their wants out of their 
 and and who only possess ready money as a surplus to 
 ;heir revenue the priest imagined that with forty 
 roubles a month to spend his sons must roll in gM. 
 le praised them, but without enthusiasm, and the two 
 >rothers left him rather down-hearted. 
 
 "I think," said Victor, "that we have made a useless 
 sacrifice; they will not be grateful to us for it." 
 
 "I think as you do, that no one will be grateful to 
 i . Demiane replied; "but look around us, our 
 mother's dresses are old, the linen is wearing out I 
 assure you the sacrifice is not a useless one." 
 
200 M A E K O F . 
 
 Victor thought of his sister's fine gown ; but he had 
 made up his mind about affairs in that direction, and in 
 his character of optimist, he soon decided about every- 
 thing else. 
 
 After two weeks of villegiatura, our friends felt that 
 it was time to return to Moscow. One sometimes has 
 such intuitions: you are at a friend's or relative's 
 house, everything seems to be passing in the most 
 pleasant manner ; of a sudden a current of air which is 
 colder than usual freezes you morally. The first day, 
 you say to yourself : it is some door which they must 
 have left open ; but the door does not close again, and 
 then you feel the immediate necessity of returning to 
 your own fireside. 
 
 To Father Kouzma's sons, the door was a veritable 
 porte-cochere, and the current of air was a hurricane. 
 They asked for their parents' blessings, which were 
 given them, and for permission to depart, which was 
 also not refused. The priest felt himself ill at ease in 
 his sons' presence; they had become too cityfied for 
 him, too much above him ; De'miane especially had 
 brought away from his visits to the Conservatoire a 
 new elegance, which placed him on a social scale much 
 nearer to the Roussofs than to his own family. The 
 daily intimacy which put the young men on an equal 
 footing with the lords of the village, made the old man 
 feel how far his sons were gradually becoming sepa- 
 rated from the paternal branch, and without being 
 angry with them about it, he was not sorry to see them 
 depart. 
 
MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE PRINCESS CLEOPATRE. 
 
 LIFE began again for the young men in the same 
 way it passed the winter before, but with a great 
 deal more work, and fewer comforts. Victor was at his 
 musical-instrument maker's during the day and with 
 Benjamin Roussof till nine o'clock in the evening; 
 Demiane was at the Conservatoire in the morning, 
 giving private lessons in the afternoon, and working 
 away alone as one possessed on his violin, at night, 
 while waiting for his brother. 
 
 Andrd drew from them the confession of their <li>aj>- 
 pointment at their father's house, and he listi-m-d with 
 a benevolent smile to Victor's grievances. 
 
 "Did you imagine," said he to him, "that they 
 would be grateful to you for your generosity ? A mis- 
 take, my good friend ! I do not know why people talk 
 of useless sacrifices! The very essence of sa -riiii < 
 be useless; that is why, when one does such things, 
 one must not clothe them with the name of sacri 
 because then one wishes gratitude in return, whi< ':. 
 perfectly ridiculous claim; one must giv them their 
 true name: duty! Under that appellation they require, 
 nothing from anybody, and one is very glad to have 
 offered them to the world ! " 
 
 This maxim was one of those which Andre* put into 
 practice, and our friends had occasion tu notke tmore 
 
202 MARK OF. 
 
 than once. They had some bitter moments to pass, 
 but the merry trio endured the most trying days with 
 the serenity of those of true metal. 
 
 Two years went by in this manner. De'miane made 
 rapid progress; his professor made no more sport of 
 him, and held him up as an example to the others when 
 he was not present. However he did not wish to pro- 
 cure him many private lessons, which he might have 
 done very easily. This eccentric man pretended that 
 if to die of hunger was contrary to the development of 
 an artist, that to feel from time to time a little cramp in 
 one's stomach was a good stimulus to genius. Demiane 
 reached the end of his second year of study without 
 suspecting that he possessed an extraordinary talent. 
 
 A few da} r s before the final examination, his profes- 
 sor, Veiiomine, gave him one of his violins. 
 
 " You cannot play your fiddle at the examination," 
 said he to him, "just try and see what you can do 
 with this." 
 
 Demiane, with unbounded delight, familiarized him- 
 self with the new instrument for a week, and the day 
 of the examination having arrived, he presented him- 
 self almost with boldness before the select public who 
 attend these solemn, private exhibitions. 
 
 As he bowed to the chairs those of the first row 
 were not filled till late, and in spite of his fine self- 
 possession, which was considerable for a debutant, but 
 would not have been very great in any other person, 
 our friend did not see any farther than the nearest 
 chairs a lady, the only one who occupied a seat in 
 the first row, put her eye-glass deliberately on her 
 
MARKOF. 203 
 
 nose and stared at him as though he were the Apollo 
 iBelvidere in marble instead of Ddmiane Markof in 
 mesh and bones, and even in fluids more or less mag- 
 Inetic, some of which shone forth from his troubled eyes 
 | which seemed intoxicated with pride or joy. 
 
 He was intoxicated, in reality, intoxicated with his 
 [certain triumph, and with the future which he sa\v 
 dawning, when he began Ve*niavsky's Polonaise, the 
 kame which had won for him the distinction of being 
 [listened to by Verlomine. He felt himself young, full 
 lof defects and faults, overcharged with inexperience, 
 land yet he believed he had only to strike the earth 
 [with his foot, like Antaeus, to leap full of force into 
 [the arena of life, and to defy the proudest wrestlers. 
 
 He played with an animation which ten years later 
 Ihe would have considered in bad taste, and his face, 
 [that was mobile to excess, expressed a thousand different 
 and confused sentiments. While a thrill of satisfaction 
 [ran through the audience, who were accustomed to 
 [hear performances of this kind, the lady let her eye- 
 [glass fall, but did not on account of this lower her 
 Igaze, and she examined the young violinist with her 
 Inaked eye, with the same ease with which she had just 
 Idone so under the shelter of her eye-glass; only, in 
 order to see him the better, she slightly closed her right 
 one, which by an anomaly was the weaker of the two. 
 
 A man of about fifty years of age, slender, distin- 
 Bguished looking, and a little worn, but still very hand- 
 some, slowly traversed the long row of chairs and went 
 and seated himself by the lady in question, who be- 
 stowed a slight nod upon him, without disturbing 
 Bherself in her contemplation. 
 
204 MAKKOF. 
 
 "A pretty stroke of the bow, is it not, Princess?" 
 said the new-comer in a low voice, with a careless tone. 
 44 He is a stranger; they have kept him under a bell 
 till now ; he is their best stroke, and I presume he is 
 going to have the first prize. Look at the blooming 
 faces of his judges, and he, the poor devil, does not 
 seem to suspect the effect he is producing! That is 
 what we diplomatists call c the boldness of innocence.' 
 You say nothing, Princess; do you not think he has 
 talent? Your decrees are laws, you know! Do you 
 wish to annul that of this areopagus ? You can do so 
 yourself, quite alone." 
 
 " He has talent," said the Princess, taking up her 
 eye-glass. 
 
 " A little theatrical in his pose, eh? " 
 
 " He is handsome." 
 
 These three words produced a singular effect upon 
 the diplomatist ; he was slightly leaning on the arm of 
 his chair and bending over towards the young woman ; 
 he drew himself up and rested naturally on the opposite 
 arm, and spoke to her a little farther off, although in 
 that diplomatic and restrained voice which understands 
 so well how to make words distinct while rendering 
 them audible to one alone. 
 
 "Yes, Princess, he is handsome, as handsome as 
 Antinous ; he is a young demi-god, and he has magnifi- 
 cent eyes. The woman who can put a gleam in those 
 eyes, will perhaps discover a vein of gold. But there 
 are so many precious metals that end in being only 
 vulgar brass, decorated with the pompous name of some 
 composition or other." 
 
M A R K O F . 
 
 "It is by use that one perceives it when they have 
 become old!" replied the Primes in a curt \ 
 cruelly emphasizing the word nil. I>ut her adversary 
 \viis not one of those whom a word ean o\vitlm>\v. He 
 smiled and continued in the same tone: 
 
 "The Prince?" 
 
 "Thank yon, mon cher, he is always the same. They 
 have ordered him to the baths of the Caucasus." 
 
 "That is very far! " 
 
 "What does that matter? As well there as else- 
 where." 
 
 " And then, the Caucasus is new to you, and you like 
 novelty, do you not, Princess?" 
 
 She did not reply, and he continued as though by 
 chance an interrupted conversation. 
 
 "Do you know that young man'/" 
 
 The Princess made a negative sign with her head and 
 began to close her right eye again. 
 
 " His name is Demiane Markof." 
 
 "How do you know it?" said she, turning round 
 with a certain vivacity. 
 
 He presented her a programme, on whi-h the name 
 of Markof followed another that was well-known to 
 all amateurs, from a number of concerts in whirh he 
 had appeared, that were much patronized by one of the 
 professors. 
 
 She took the programme and let it fall disdainfully, 
 so that the light blue paper rolled to the foot of the 
 platform, where it attracted Mai i >n. 
 
 " Demiane ! It is a name of the clergy," said she 
 almost out loud. 
 
206 M A R K O F . 
 
 The young musician was recovering his breath just 
 then, during an interval of silence ; his eyes attracted 
 by the paper were lifted to the young woman's face. 
 
 " Bravo ! " said the diplomatist in a low voice, as he 
 applauded noiselessly with the tips of his fingers, while 
 fastening his slightly ironical look on the performer. 
 The Princess noticed the movement and comprehended 
 its intention. She trembled and leaned forward. 
 
 " Bravo ! " she cried in a loud voice, applauding so 
 enthusiastically with her nervous hands that she tore 
 her gloves. 
 
 The whole audience, according to the immemorial 
 and sheep-like custom of all audiences, applauded with 
 frenzy. 
 
 Pale and dazzled, nearly staggering under the weight 
 of an emotion which he had never before experienced, 
 Ddmiane bowed; but his look met the Princess' eyes, 
 who was still applauding, and it was to her that he 
 addressed his d&butantfs bow, which was awkward, 
 timid and charming. 
 
 He continued at once with fresh inspiration. The 
 inflections which he had conscientiously practised with 
 his professor were mingled with the fire of a new im- 
 petuosity, and he played the finale of the piece as no 
 one perhaps had ever played it before, but contrary to 
 the traditional rules. 
 
 " You are making him lose his first prize, Princess," 
 said the diplomatist to his beautiful neighbor. " You 
 owe him a compensation." 
 
 She cast a half flattered, half disdainful glance on 
 the indiscreet talker, and ceased looking at the debutant. 
 
 Vainly he endeavored to encounter again those 
 
MARKOF 
 
 powerful eyes that so many others had 
 I before him; the Princess, who was impasM\ -, did nut 
 I bestow the slightest glance upon him, so lung as he 
 I had to undergo other trials, and Ddmiane, became in as- 
 I! ter of himself again, and finished in the most brilliant 
 I manner. In fine, he was awarded the first prize; and 
 I the Princess, who only waited for this to leave, i 
 I and stood for a moment offering herself to the young 
 
 I man's eyes, which instinctively sought her, and he read 
 
 II in her face a thousand feelings: encouragement fur the 
 I artist, a little disdainful sympathy, and admiration for 
 I his physical beauty, so much in fact that he could not 
 I decipher all in so short a time ; and then she turned 
 
 her back upon him slowly, and reached the door of 
 I exit while the other names vainly struck the ear of the 
 I handsome, indifferent woman. 
 
 "It was for me that she remained!" thought he, 
 
 blushing more at the boldness of his thought than with 
 I joy at his first prize. 
 
 " She thinks she has found a mine of virgin gold ! " 
 
 thought the diplomatist, scrutinizing Ddmiane's face, 
 
 "and perhaps she is going to dig a bottomless abyss 
 Jin it." 
 
 " You did not see me then, brother ? " said Victor to 
 De'miane a few moments later, when outside at the 
 door, he was able to cling to his arm. "When they 
 proclaimed your name my neck was stretched towards 
 you, and it seemed to me that my face was going to 
 reach your cheek to kiss you." 
 
 "I did not see you," said Ddmiane, a little ashamed 
 [at remembering that at that moment he was looking at 
 lithe Princess, a woman of whom he knew nothing. 
 
208 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A RUSSIAN VIOLIN. 
 
 "TTvEMIANE MARKOF, who received the first 
 jLJ violin prize of the Conservatoire, will have the 
 honor of giving a Concert in the Hall of the Petite 
 Assembles de la Noblesse, on Wednesday, the 20th of 
 May, 186-, at eight o'clock in the evening." 
 
 This advertisement, which was placarded every- 
 where, would not have attracted a sufficient number 
 of hearers if Madame Roussof and the Professor Ver- 
 -omine had not sold tickets for it with remarkable 
 energy, especially at that season of the year when the 
 amateur musical public emigrates in large bodies to 
 the interior of the country. It was, perhaps, because 
 this concert would be the last one, perhaps also, 
 because until then, they had not made much noise 
 about Markof, that when the young man appeared 
 upon the platform, the hall was almost full. Instinct- 
 ively he cast a glance on the first row of chairs ; he 
 saw there people of all kinds, young, old, ugly and 
 handsome, though there were few of the latter, 
 but not the smallest curl of hair that could recall to 
 him the lady whose eyes had so interrogated him at the 
 Conservatoire. As he was finishing his examination, a 
 little disappointed, he perceived the keen, ironical face 
 of the diplomatist, who smiled almost imperceptibly. 
 This smile completely disconcerted the poor fellow, and 
 
M A R K O F . 
 
 209 
 
 first piece betrayed the reflection of liis inward 
 totion; they said to themselves, in different places in 
 hall, "that these gentlemen of the Conservatoire 
 jver do anything else! They spare no efforts, in 
 ler to bestow upon the public some dry fruit, about 
 [hich they are crazy ! " 
 
 While a well known pianist executed the Rhapsodic 
 fyngroise, and made enough noise to overpower that of 
 earthquake, Verlornine attacked D6miane in the 
 :tists' room. 
 
 Unlucky fellow !" said he to him, "you are turn- 
 us into ridicule. You are betraying the moral 
 igagement which you have contracted with us ! You 
 playing like the orchestra-leader of a dririkiiig- 
 lloon ! What are you thinking of ? Can you not 
 mse yourself?" 
 
 I am afraid," said Demiane, dispirited. 
 " That is not true ! You are not afraid ! You were 
 )t afraid when you went in ! You were not afraid the 
 [iher day at the examination ! " 
 
 I am sad," said Demiane, who was incapable of 
 llling a falsehood, incapable also, of checking the^bit- 
 [rness that rose from his heart to his lips. She ought 
 have been there, that woman! She ought to have 
 ui ! She certainly knew that he was going to play, 
 did she not come? But it was impossible to bo 
 irtained. 
 
 " You are sad ? Because you are going to earn a pile 
 
 money as big as yourself ? A receipt of two thous- 
 
 id roubles and all the expenses paid ; and the man is 
 
 >t happy ? 
 
 No poetry, 
 13 
 
 I 
 
 beg 
 
 of you ! No melan- 
 
210 MA.RKOF. 
 
 choly either. I detest affectation. Go in and try to 
 show some nerve." 
 
 De'miane, thus encouraged, went to the hall ; his 
 entrance was not a brilliant one, as he had disappointed 
 the public, and the most indulgent people, even those 
 who talked of " the unavoidable embarrassment of a first 
 debut" did not dare to applaud too much. He advanced, 
 resigned to everything, even to a complete failure, 
 which would have annihilated the hopes he had cher- 
 ished for so many years. He was in the state of mind 
 of a man who sees a railway train coming upon him, 
 and who cannot leave the track, held there by terror, 
 and paralyzed at the sight of an imminent catastrophe. 
 
 " Strike Za, if you please," said he to the accom- 
 panist. 
 
 The latter gave the required note, though surprised 
 that De'miane had not taken the precaution to tune his 
 violin before entering. The young man made the string 
 resound in his ear, in order to gain a little time. Sud- 
 denly his face lit up, and a new strength and tri- 
 umphant joy pervaded all his being : the unknown lady 
 of the Conservatoire advanced slowly towards the plat- 
 form. "With head erect and slightly thrown backwards, 
 the features of her face expressed nothing but the sat- 
 isfaction of pride, and the assurance of disdain ; she 
 drew after her the folds of a superb dress, and walked 
 quite alone, as if to assert her indifference to the world. 
 She went straight to her chair near the diplomatist, and 
 sank into it without having cast a look around her. 
 
 Ddmiane placed his bow on the strings, and a thril- 
 ling joy, an intense vibration passed from the violin into 
 
M A R K O F . 211 
 
 all his being, even to the ends of his hair, that stood 
 slightly erect, influenced by a current of electricity. 
 Immediately the bow sang divinely, as though borne 
 away on invisible wings, and the young man while per- 
 I forming a classical sonata for the majority of his audi- 
 tors, made the practised ears of some among them listen 
 to a magnificent hymn to love and youth. 
 
 She did not look at him ; with her head bent down, 
 Jshe was playing with the tassel of her fan, and seemed 
 |as indifferent to the music as to the audience, but what 
 did that matter to Ddmiane? The mysterious pro- 
 hector, the good fairy who had made him win his first 
 Iprize had come, come for him this time, because his 
 jname had caught her eye on the advertisement ; was 
 Ithat not enough for his pride and his happiness ? 
 
 Ddmiane stopped, the allegro was finished. They 
 applauded him with frenzy, as that good Russian public, 
 nyhich is the most enthusiastic and the best knows how 
 to applaud. He bowed as he poised his bow to attack 
 |he andante. She gently raised her proud head and 
 [fastened on him a thoughtful and penetrating look, 
 Ivhich made him thrill from his head to his feet. 
 
 For her, he made the instrument sing like a human 
 bice ; it was the sonorous wood that was bidden to 
 Ixpress to her all the caresses of a virgin heart, which 
 Iras suddenly opened to the most intoxicating, the most 
 fciritual love, that of an immortal being for an iiiiup- 
 roachable star, a love that is all the madder because it 
 |oes not fear to wound its object ; for it is placed so 
 
 Igh that nothing can reach it. 
 "Do you wish to bewitch him then?" Count Raben 
 
212 MARK OF. 
 
 asked his lovely neighbor, who began to play with her 
 fan again. 
 
 " That does not concern you," she replied, without 
 looking at him. 
 
 " Does that young adept of the fiddle really please 
 you?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders a little, and the fringe of 
 her burnous fell on the diplomatist's arm. 
 
 " Have you read Dalila, Princess ? " continued the 
 latter without moving. 
 
 "Dalila? I think I have. Well?" 
 
 "Do you remember Roswein? Do not ruin this 
 superb lily in its bloom, which has no intention of spin- 
 ning and which nevertheless wishes to be superbly 
 clothed, like all lilies." 
 
 " And you, you make me rather think of Carnioli," 
 said the Princess, with an accent of such concentrated 
 anger that it made the words seem like a blow. 
 
 Count Raben bowed slightly. " Coming from a 
 lady, from you, Princess, a cutting word is only flat- 
 tery to him who receives it. When one has to right 
 with such an adversary as yourself, it is an honor to be 
 pricked." 
 
 " Leave me alone ! " returned the Princess in a bad 
 temper. 
 
 The andante slowly unrolled its passionate changes; 
 it went and returned on itself, disclosing the theme of 
 a closer and closer embrace ; at length the motif 
 ascended to Heaven, while De'miane, who was trans- 
 ported far above the world, put all his soul in it to lay 
 it at the feet of his unknown one. 
 
M A R K O F . 213 
 
 " Thank him then ! " said Raben, with Ids sarcastic 
 Ismile, "you surely owe it to him ! " 
 
 " Do you defy me to do it ? " said the Princess ; and 
 I with a splendidly insolent gesture, she lifted the drapery 
 Ithat hid her gloved hands and raising them slightly, 
 [applauded without making a sound, but in the most 
 demonstrative manner. 
 
 " That is not enough," said Raben. 
 
 "Agreed," said she haughtily. And as Demiane, 
 while bowing to the public, bent towards her a suppl- 
 icating look, she distinctly, although in a low voice, 
 jpronounced the word : Thanks. 
 
 "Then, it is decided, you are going to take upon 
 jyourself the task of rendering him immortal ? " said 
 feaben to his beautiful enemy, while she turned on him 
 la look of defiance. 
 
 " It is not yourself who will ever be immortal ! " she 
 paid to him ironically. 
 
 "Because you do not wish it," he replied with perfect 
 leal Ian try. 
 
 " Oh ! mon cher, he is not immortal who wishes to be 
 [BO. One must first have genius ! " 
 
 All this took place in the most courteous manner, in 
 Ik low tone, without gestures, but with their shadows, 
 jlvith mere suggestions of movements, as it should be 
 between people in the best society, in which the h-ast 
 gesture presumes self importance. They exchanged 
 these words which were as sharp as swords, and no one 
 (behind them suspected them. Ddmiane who had become 
 jbale, looked at them anxiously, divining that what they 
 ivere talking about concerned him. She looked at 
 
214 MARK OF. 
 
 him the look did not last even as long as a flash 
 of lightning, so rapidly did it glide between the young 
 woman's lowered eye-lids, but he gained renewed 
 courage from it and finished the sonata with a fire that 
 won the approval of the most unwilling. Recalled 
 three times, he returned to bow to the public his 
 master, who, for the moment asked nothing better than 
 to become his slave ; then he retired to the artist's room, 
 where he was loaded with praise from those whom, a 
 half an hour before had so roughly attacked him. He 
 listened to them mechanically, smiling, thanking and 
 shaking hands to the right and left, and only hearing in 
 reality one word, that thanks which his eyes had divined 
 from the movement of the Princess' lips, but of which 
 his ear had not caught the sound. 
 
 " The Princess Re*dine looks at you admiringly ! " 
 said Verlomine unceremoniously, almost aloud. " She 
 will make your reputation, provided you are amiable 
 to her, to her dog, to her maid, and even to her hus- 
 band." 
 
 "Is she married?" asked De*miane who, of all this 
 speech, had only heard the young woman's name, and 
 the word " husband." 
 
 "At thirty-five years of age, if she were not, she 
 would have but little chance of ever being! " 
 
 "Thirty-five years old? Who is thirty-five years 
 old? " said the young man, thinking he made a mistake. 
 
 " The lady seated there, in the corner to the right ; 
 by leaning forward a little, you can see her from here, 
 with pearls around her neck, and the handsome Ruben 
 at her side." 
 
MARKOF. 215 
 
 It was she ! With what irreverence these scoundrels 
 Btreated her ! 
 
 Much shocked, Ddmiane was going to utter some 
 jabsurd protestation ; but Verlomine prevented him : 
 
 " She will tell you that she is only twenty-eight, and 
 jthat will be very nice of her, for she does not seem to 
 Ike more than twenty-seven. Be amiable to her hus- 
 Iband, for that is an essential condition."' 
 
 "Does she love him very much?" said Ddmiane with 
 la vague heartache. 
 
 A smile dawned on the caustic professor's lips. 
 
 " That does not concern either one or the other 
 fcf us, my dear child. However that may be, con- 
 traiy to the majority of women, of women of her 
 IK hid, she shows the old Prince a regard that is 
 jhiute touching and thus gives tone to her surround- 
 :IIL;\S. It is an excellent example, and one that shows 
 I he most critical taste, and is the proof of a very rare 
 intelligence." 
 
 "Is the Prince old?" asked Ddmiane, who was 
 listening without understanding, or rather, without 
 vishing to understand. 
 
 I " He is sixty-eight years old ; he was wounded in the 
 lead in 1855, and his intelligence was rather seriously 
 Impaired by it; but the admirable care which his wife 
 Irishes on him, cannot fail to preserve to him for a 
 long time the little brightness which Providence lias 
 lift him." 
 
 Ddmiane looked at the professor: the latter M.IS 
 Imperturbable : no one had ever been able to discover 
 Idiether he was joking or not, when he was determined 
 
216 MA UK OF. 
 
 to appear serious : moreover, the poor fellow had many 
 other things in his mind, and hastened in pursuit of an 
 artist, who was making preparations to leave, pretend- 
 ing he would not have time to undertake his part at 
 the rate the concert was going on, and that he was 
 expected at a soire'e where he had promised to play. 
 With a great deal of persuasion, Markof succeeded in 
 inducing him to remain, on condition that he should 
 play next. This arrangement interfered with all the 
 
 closing pieces of the concert, but Mademoiselle K 
 
 had not come, and in some way or other, it was neces- 
 sary to fill up the void, without giving the audience 
 cause to complain. 
 
 " What an undertaking, mon Dieu ! what an undei 
 taking it is to give a concert ! sighed Demiane, wh< 
 the difficulties were smoothed over. 
 
 "You complain! We have done the most difficult 
 part for you ! " replied Verlomine. " You will 
 what it will be when you are quite alone ! " Generally 
 my friend, when every thing is made ready, when th( 
 hall is lighted, when the public has come and th< 
 artists are late, the king of the feast is overcome with 
 frightful headache, and has no other thought except 
 go home and go to bed." 
 
 When Demiane returned to the hall, the Prince* 
 was gone ! It seemed to the poor youth that all the 
 lights had simultaneously gone out, and that the worlc 
 was bounding through space, in the blackest darkm 
 He nerved himself, nevertheless, to meet this nne: 
 pectedblow; the young woman's manner inspired hii 
 with the conviction that he would see her again, ai 
 
M A R K O F . '2 1 7 
 
 this conviction gave him the courage to accomplish the 
 rest of his task without too much weariness. 
 
 When all was over, when he had received every 
 one's congratulations, and given fees to an incalculable 
 number of dirty hands, which seemed to multiply them- 
 selves in an inordinate manner, Ddmiane found himself 
 in the street with Victor, who during all the evening 
 had neither made a movement nor spoken a word. 
 Hidden on a sofa, behind a great heap of neck hand- 
 kerchiefs and great-coats, he contented himself with 
 watching his brother, with the submissive and happy 
 eyes of a dog who contemplates his master. 
 
 "Ah!" said Demiane, "I am worn out! I would 
 like to lie down there, on the pavement, and sleep until 
 mid-day to-morrow." 
 
 " Let us go home," said Victor joyfully, taking him 
 by the arm ; " let us go home as quickly as possible ; 
 give me the violin, I will carry it." 
 
 Ddmiane allowed himself to be led ; they got into a 
 drosky and went jolting through the badly paved 
 streets of old Moscow, then through those of new 
 Moscow, which are equally bad. Above their heads, 
 the greyish azure of the northern summer nights was 
 studded with the feeble light of the stars. It was tl !<> 
 northern nights which the poet must have had in mind, 
 when he said : 
 
 " Et Vaube douce et pdle, en attendant son heure 
 Semble toute la nuit errer au las du del" 
 
 For in truth, near the horizon, do the gilded, myste- 
 rious lights float which proclaim the setting sun, or the 
 
218 MARKOF. 
 
 approaching dawn, and which make one dream of a 
 thousand things, and cause a thousand dwindled hopes. 
 These nights banish the mirage of the past,, and are 
 overflowing with thoughts of the future. 
 
 The day was not far distant, it comes very early at 
 that period of the year ! the east was already growing 
 bright when the two brothers alighted before their 
 small house. A light shone in Andre's window, the 
 only one that they had seen for a long while during 
 their passage through the sleeping streets, where in 
 summer the gas is never burning. 
 
 " Andre* has not gone to bed," said Demiane, yawn- 
 ing. 
 
 " He wishes to know how the concert has succeeded," 
 Victor replied with an expression of strange delight. 
 
 The drosky went away slowly, and our friends en- 
 tered their home. Andre* was awaiting them in their 
 own room, with a candle in his hand. 
 
 " Well ! " said he laconically. 
 
 " Superb ! " replied Victor, who seemed to have 
 regained his speech, in proportion as his brother lost 
 his. 
 
 " I congratulate you ! " said Andre", energetically 
 shaking the artist's hand. 
 
 "I thank you, but I am nearly dead!" said Ddmi- 
 ane, who in truth was staggering from fatigue and 
 sleeplessness. 
 
 He was going to throw himself on his bed, all 
 dressed ; the two young men stopped him with a ges- 
 ture of alarm. 
 
 " So much the worse for my fine new dress-coat ! " 
 
MARKOF. 
 
 219 
 
 lid De'miane, wishing to resist them. "I have been on 
 
 feet for ten hours, I must stretch myself out." 
 " It is not that," said Victor, still wearing his tri- 
 imphant smile; " there is something on your bed." 
 
 He raised a napkin, and Demiane perceived lying in 
 lis place, with its head on the pillow, the well-known 
 >rm of a violin-case. 
 
 " What is that ? " said he, awakened by the strange- 
 Less of the sight. Cases for stringed instruments have 
 vague resemblance to a little coffin. 
 " Look ! " said Ladof. Victor held his breath. 
 De'niiane put out his hand carefully, touched the 
 )bject and drew the case towards him; it was heavy; 
 carried it to the small, old piano, opened it, and 
 jtood motionless. 
 
 In its red cloth case, which was carefully padded, a 
 superb violin reposed on its back; the ebony bow hud 
 place in the lid, and Ddmiane-s initials were visible 
 m both. 
 
 " What is it ? " said he recovering his breath. 
 "It is for you, brother; it is your violin!" ex- 
 jlaimed Victor, incapable of containing himself; "it 
 your own violin, with which you will become cele- 
 brated!" 
 
 Excitedly and without replying Demiane seized the 
 jtrument, mechanically tuned two strings, and drew 
 bow slowly twice over the same note, which gave 
 >rth a deep, full, sweet and vibrating sound, like the 
 lost beautiful tenor voice. 
 
 " It is good, I will answer for it ! " said Ladof, who 
 been mute till then. 
 
220 M A R K O F 
 
 Demiane replaced the violin, looked at it, then looked 
 at his friends. 
 
 " I do not understand," said he. " That violin must 
 have cost a fearful price." 
 
 " It is very simple, however ! " said Ladof, with 
 his usual calmness. " You had not the wherewithal 
 to buy a Stradivarius, nor I to make you a present 
 of one, so your brother made you a Markof ! That 
 is all. 
 
 " It was you, Victor, who made this ! " said De'miane, 
 pale with emotion, for he began to understand. 
 
 " Andre* helped me a great deal ! " modestly replied 
 Victor, who had become the color of a wild rose, and 
 as small as a little mouse in his great humility. 
 
 " With my advice," said Ladof, correcting him. 
 
 De'miane remained silent, then his face was covered 
 quickly with tears ; he hid it at first in his hands, but 
 laying aside all false pride, he let it be seen without any 
 shame, and held out a hand to each of them : 
 
 " Oh ! my friends ! " said he, " my friends ! " 
 
 He could find nothing else to say to them, and 
 what could he have added to that cry of the soul? 
 Were they not indeed his friends ? 
 
 " We have worked at it for a long time," said Victor ; 
 " the case has been made for fifteen months ; it was 
 seasoned for a } r ear, and it took us three months to 
 finish it. And, De'miane, do you know, I had an idea, 
 but I did not understand it " 
 
 " I understood it though, very clearly," interrupted 
 Andre. "We have violinists, but we have no violins! 
 All our instruments are made by Germans, and it has 
 
MARKOF. 
 
 vexed me for a long while ! I.ut, us in myself, I have 
 no ambition; some day I will go and cat my l.ul; 
 on the banks of the Don, and I will make no more 
 violins except for my children if I have anv, for the 
 hildren of other folks, if I do not marry. Yin 
 consumed by ambition! Just as you see him i 
 tie has more ambition in his small form than you, my 
 *reat De'miane, in all your endless body, lie saw in 
 his dreams German violins and Nuremberg alb- 
 ting on his stomach and lolling their tongues at him, 
 whieh gave him the most frightful nightmares ! So, 
 be wished to make a Russian violin, Russian in e 
 part, and I think he has succeeded." 
 
 De'miane took up the violin again and played the 
 fir>t thirty measures of the allegro of the sonata. 
 
 "It is a pearl !" exclaimed he, "without a fault ! oh ! 
 Victor, you are worth a thousand times more than 
 myself!" 
 
 Victor smiled ; his joy was diffused around him, he 
 looked as though he were being borne on a shield of 
 roses. 
 
 "For a Russian artist," said he, "a Ru-ian violin 
 was necessary. We have the artist and the instrun. 
 Vive ! our Russia ! Vive ! our country ! 1 1 1 1 rra 1 1 ! ' 
 
 The old house trembled under the joyful cry of 
 friends, and they heard the proprietress in the i; 
 who slept soundly, turn herself over and moan, think- 
 ing doubtless that it was thundering. 
 
 "Let us go to bed," said Andre, blowing out his 
 candle ; " it is broad day-light." 
 
 An hour later, Victor waking suddenly, perct 
 
222 M A R K O F . 
 
 his brother's opened eyes ; he had retired but he was 
 lying very wide awake, and was attentively look- 
 ing at the violin case, which was placed opposite to 
 him. 
 
 "Are you not sleeping ? " said he to him ; " you were 
 so tired?" 
 
 " I am not tired any longer, brother," said Ddmiane, 
 in a sweet voice, as though in a dream ; " life is pleas- 
 ant and I am happy." 
 
M ARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A MESSAGE. 
 
 THE next day, about one o'clock in the afternoon, as 
 the two brothers were finishing their tea, a tall 
 fellow with an important air appeared on the horizon of 
 the square. After having rung at two or three houses 
 which presented a better appearance, he decided at 
 last to approach the small, old building; the proprie- 
 tress' name, however, was plainly written on the letter 
 which he held in his hand, and he had seen it as he 
 passed above the door; but this man, who was imbued 
 with aristocratic notions, preferred to take several use- 
 less steps rather than to incur the possibility of con- 
 taminating the feet of his noble valet de chambre on 
 the threshold of so wretched a dwelling; no one 
 whom his masters deigned to honor with a mi 
 could, or should dwell in so poor a house. Obliged, 
 however, to yield to evidence, he rang with a firm hand 
 and, at the stroke, Petit-Gris, who was alarmed, took 
 flight across the table, in a way that seriously en- 
 dangered the equilibrium of the tea-pot on the samo\ ar. 
 The proprietress descended the wooden stairway with ;i 
 haste which was none the less characteristic, opened the 
 door, and entered into conversation with the magnifi- 
 cent messenger, who retired shortly with a majestic step. 
 " A letter for Monsieur Markof, from the Princess 
 Re*dine ; there is no answer," said the good woman as 
 she withdrew. 
 
224 MARKOF. 
 
 Monsieur Markof could only be Demiane. He 
 extended his arm and opened the envelope without 
 Victor's having any thought of claiming it. 
 
 " Who is the Princess Redine ? " innocently asked 
 the good youth, "and what can she want of you? " 
 
 " Some work for next winter," replied De'miane, lay- 
 ing on the table the thick, heavy, unpolished English 
 paper, whose folds had resisted the pressure of the 
 envelope, and opened of themselves. 
 
 " Some lessons ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly, some accompaniments, if you like 
 that better. It is to play sonatas for the violin and 
 piano." 
 
 " Next winter, that is far away ! " said Victor, who 
 would have preferred to have them begin at once. 
 
 " Yes, it is far away ! " repeated Demiane, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 "A Princess! show me her handwriting." He seized 
 the letter, not without a slight movement on his 
 brother's part, indicating his desire to keep it to him- 
 self; but Victor paid no attention to it, and read aloud 
 in Russ : 
 
 " The Princess Cldopatre Redine, who is just leaving 
 for the baths of Piatigorsk, begs Monsieur Markof to 
 reserve her some hours for next winter, so that they 
 can play some music together. The Princess intends 
 returning near the month of November ! " The address 
 followed. 
 
 " The month of November ! " exclaimed Victor. 
 
 " The Greek Kalends ! " said Ladof from the thresh- 
 old of the door ; he was not going to work, having 
 reserved himself a holiday to pass with his friends. 
 
MARK OF. , 
 
 No," replied Demiane firmly, while liis eyes shone 
 ith a strange fire, that was half wrathful, halt' tri- 
 phant, " it is serious." 
 " What do you know about it ? " 
 
 I like her ; she was at the concert yesterday, she 
 
 at the Conservatoire." He stopped and bit his 
 ngue ; what more could he say ? 
 " A patron, then ? It is perfect. Is she young or old ? ' ' 
 " Young," replied Demiane, reluctantly. 
 " Handsome or ugly ? " 
 " Handsome, so it seems to me." 
 " Hurrah ! for beauty ! " said Ladof coldly, which 
 ntrasted strongly with his enthusiastic words. 
 
 "And she lives? " 
 
 Victor read the address again. 
 
 I " My good fellow," said Ladof, still coldly, " your 
 -tune is made." 
 |" Eh?" snid Dthniane, straightening himself as though 
 
 had received a blow from a whip. 
 | u A young and beautiful Princess, who patronizes the 
 ?ts, and who makes a rendezvous for six months 
 [ead, cannot fail to have the most generous intentions 
 regard to you." 
 
 Do you know her?" asked the young artist, instinct- 
 ily wounded at Andre's tone. 
 
 By reputation." 
 
 Well, what? What is there to say about it?" con- 
 uied Ddmiane, a little bitterly. 
 
 Nothing at all ! From my point of view, nothing 
 | all. When one is rich and powerful, one does as one 
 
 ses; truth to say, that is the principal value of 
 Ihes and of power." 
 
226 MARK OF. 
 
 Demiane had arisen and was walking up and down 
 the room, at the risk of knocking against the table and 
 of treading on Petit-Gris' agitated tail, who looked at 
 him displeased. 
 
 " How singular," said he, after having taken two or 
 three turns, " is that desire of disparaging people whom 
 one does not know ! It is sufficient that a woman 
 should be amiable and rich for calumny at once to 
 attack her " 
 
 Ladof put his hand on the artist's arm and stopped 
 him short in his speech as well as in his walk. 
 
 " Do you know her then, so well ? " said he, tran- 
 quilly, " that you talk about calumny ? " 
 
 "I? Not at all!" 
 
 " You do not know her at all, and here for this 
 woman whom you do not know, whom you have seen 
 twice, you accuse your friend of several years standing, 
 with calumniating your friend who has shared with 
 your brother the right of loving, of encouraging, and 
 of advising you " 
 
 Demiane shook off the hand that held his arm, and 
 tried to turn aAvay. 
 
 " You will not make me angry," said Ladof, who was 
 still calm. " I tell you that you treat me like a trouble- 
 some person, like a tutor, like an old imbecile, and this, 
 for a woman whom you do not know; she looked into 
 your eyes, did she not? and you have lost your head? 
 Well ! go, my friend, go where destiny impels you I 
 After all, perhaps destiny does not trouble itself about 
 you. That woman is clever, and she is going away. 
 When she returns, you will have another one in your 
 head!" 
 
M A R K O F . 227 
 
 He laughed softly, with his peaceful laugh which 
 [denoted such a perfect self-possession, and it calmed 
 [Demiane's irritation. 
 
 It had often resounded in their aesthetical, political 
 Band other discussions, this laugh of a man who knows 
 fife and who understands how to excuse all weak- 
 messes. Andre* had laughed at his Utopian dreams 
 land at himself, with the same simplicity with which 
 me laughed at others on certain occasions. All Victor's 
 treat plans, all. Demiane's poetical chimeras, were \\i-\- 
 Ipomed with this kind laugh, and they had always joined 
 ftn it, irresistibly won over by his frankness and his 
 bood nature. 
 
 The effect this time was the same. Ddiniane held 
 put his hand to Lad of and said to him : 
 
 " I am a fool ! " 
 
 " Certainly you are," replied the young man, " but I 
 Inust confess, it requires a certain dose of good SCUM* 
 BO recognize it. Beware of Undines, my friend, be \\uic 
 jpf protecting fairies Carolines are much less danger- 
 j[)us to speak the truth they are not dangerous at all : 
 Ik woman who smells of onions, and who puts rose 
 Jpomade on her hair, can only be dangerous to a boot- 
 Irnaker's apprentice. Victor, could you imagine a boot- 
 jiiaker's apprentice infringing on his patron's money-box 
 to carry off a Caroline ? " 
 
 " I do not know any Caroline," said Victor, naively. 
 
 " Your brother knew one." 
 
 "Will you be silent?" said Ddmiane. "You will 
 llhock my house-maid." 
 
 "Oh! for my part," said Victor, "I am never 
 Ihocked at anything. Youth must have its day ! " 
 
228 MARK OF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A WANDERING MOOD. 
 
 " T TT HAT are you going to do now, my two nabobs? " 
 T T said Monsieur Roussof to the young men when 
 they went to pay him a visit, two days after the con- 
 cert. 
 
 " I have an idea," said Demiane with hesitation, as 
 he looked at his brother from the corner of his eye, 
 "so has Victor " 
 
 " Two ideas ! " 
 
 " No, the same one ; if we remain in Moscow, we 
 shall spend all our money." 
 
 Monsieur Roussof made a sign which signified that he 
 did not doubt it. 
 
 " So, like other artists, we thought of making a 
 little tour in the provinces ; it seems to me that a first 
 prize-man of the Conservatoire has a chance of earning 
 a little money everywhere ; if it should only pay our 
 expenses, it would be quite sufficient." 
 
 " And then it will permit us to see the country," 
 urged Victor, with the earnest air that he always 
 assumed every time he expressed his brother's thoughts; 
 he was less bold in announcing his own. 
 
 " Wisely considered ! " said Monsieur Roussof, " and 
 well; in what direction will you go?" 
 
 Demiane blushed ; he had not yet studied diplomacy. 
 
 "They say," he replied, "that along the Volga, one 
 
M A R K O P . 
 
 
 finds a great many eities where music is held in great 
 honor ; I would like to begin at Xijni. v 
 
 44 Well, and how far will you go? " 
 
 "As far as the earth will take us!" said Victor 
 joyfully. 
 
 44 Go, then ! that is very well." 
 
 Monsieur Roussofs scrutinizing look embarrassed 
 Dmiane; it seemed to him that his protector must 
 know the reason of his preference for the Volga. Was 
 not that river the natural way to the Caucasus ? was it 
 not permitted to hope that from port to port, he would 
 reach Bakoun, and from thence Piatigorsk, without any 
 one's being able to suspect what urged him to the 
 mountains ? For a moment our friend felt sure that 
 Monsieur Roussof had divined something, for he smiled 
 I as he said to him : 
 
 44 Do you go alone ? " 
 
 44 We two ! " replied Victor, who was surprised. 
 
 44 Of course. And who is going to accompany Dtfnri- 
 |ane on the piano?" 
 
 44 We will leave that to Providence ! " answered 
 IDemiane, who was relieved from a groat weight, on 
 seeing that his machiavellism had not been transparent. 
 |" One can find accompanists everywhere." 
 
 44 Bad and good ones," said Monsieur Roussof. " Do 
 ou not take any one with you? A skillful song>v 
 
 clever pianist? Generally artists travel in a troupe." 
 
 44 We have no friends," said Demiane, indiflVivutly ; 
 "we are Bohemians, free under the heavens, without 
 my shackles, and without any obligations to any one 
 >ut ourselves and yourself," added he, bowing to 
 
230 M A R K O F . 
 
 Monsieur Roussof. " Before leaving, sir, I have brought 
 you back the fifty roubles, which enabled us, three 
 years ago, to come to Moscow, and to reach the position 
 I have now attained. I owe my fortune to you, I will 
 remember it, Monsieur Roussof, and I shall never be 
 quits with you." 
 
 He laid the bank-bill on the table with a slight 
 trembling, which he could not master, and his eyes 
 sought those of the good man. 
 
 " Do you insist on returning this money to me ? You 
 do not wish to have any benefactors ? " said the latter, 
 smiling. 
 
 " It is not that, sir ; gratitude is sweet to me, but I 
 told you I would pay it back, and my word is as good 
 as my bond." 
 
 " You told me that also, my friend, I remember it ; 
 very well, you are an honest fellow. And your money, 
 are you going to take it with you ? " 
 
 " I shall have a thousand roubles left, which I would 
 like to ask you to keep, sir. I am afraid I should not 
 stop spending them in time, if I took them away with 
 me, and I would like to find them on my return " 
 
 "I ask nothing better than to be your banker. 
 Here, or at Gradovka, you will always find me ready 
 for any demand." 
 
 The two brothers took leave of their friend. When 
 they left him, Monsieur Roussof pointed with his finger 
 in the direction of the door : 
 
 " A knight, but a man of business there is in you, 
 my friend Demiane, a curious mixture of the hidalgo 
 and the book - keeper which will prevail in you ? 
 
M A RKO F. 
 
 231 
 
 Will there be a struggle, or will the two elements lead 
 you gently to the grave, without leaving you? He is 
 running after a petticoat, that is written on his face. 
 I would like to know if he will end by catching it?" 
 
 In truth, Ddmiane had run a great deal, not after a 
 single petticoat, but after the starched and lace-trimmed 
 collection of the Princess' petticoats, which were wrap- 
 ped in silk -paper, and laid at their full length in 
 enormous trunks, that kind of trunks which the Trou- 
 ville railway unwisely refuses to accept as luggage, 
 because they cannot go in the railway wagons. He 
 learned that those fortunate petticoats were going very 
 slowly by water, which is not a hurried mode of 
 transit to rejoin their mistress at Astrakhan, from 
 there to Bakoun, from there to Tiflis, and from Tiflis 
 to Piatigorsk, which place one can reach by land, 
 which is the most speedy way of travelling. 
 
 The Princess left Moscow the morning of the very 
 day on which Demiane had announced his plan to 
 Monsieur Roussof, and accompanied by her husband, 
 in a berlin, by her maid and by a second maid. A 
 third, who was especially attached to the service of her 
 petticoats, followed them on their navigation of the 
 Volga with two valets-de-pied, the Prince's first valet-de- 
 chambre, and the Prince's second valet-de-chambre, who, 
 to speak the truth, waited chiefly on the first one ; 
 by Pouf, the Prince's King Charles, by Frisette, tho 
 Prince's grey-hound, with a woman attached to their 
 service. The cook with his two aids, the major-domo 
 with his secretary, whose duty was to write the bills-of- 
 fare on a plain, pale-green bristol card intended for the 
 
232 M A R K O F . 
 
 Princess' use, had left under another convoy, and as to 
 the rest of the servants, they hoped to find all that 
 might be wanting where they were going. 
 
 Draped, not in a wall-colored mantle, but in a pretty 
 sand-tinted gray overcoat, which was then the fashion, 
 Dmiane saw all the carriages leave ; he had not per- 
 ceived the Princess, not knowing where to look for her, 
 in that Babel of equipages and horses, but she had seen 
 him very plainly, and had taken great care not to let 
 him suspect it. 
 
 When the autumn comes, when the moment has 
 arrived for stripping the orchards for fear the rains and 
 the first frosts may spoil the most beautiful fruit, care- 
 ful amateurs do not trust any one with the task OL 
 picking the finest pears from their favorite trees. Some 
 are good to be eaten at once, others will be ripe in a 
 week's time, others again will only reveal their flavor 
 at the New Year ; the connoisseur finds one, the most 
 beautiful of all, smells it, turns it around and says to 
 himself : This one can wait ; it will only gain by pass- 
 ing the winter on a shelf in the fruit closet ; in March 
 it will hardly have reached the degree of maturity 
 necessary to give it perfect flavor and perfect fragrance. 
 After having assured herself that he would not fail her, 
 and being certain of holding him by a solid thread, the 
 Princess had put Demiane on the highest shelf of her 
 fruit closet. 
 
 The imprudent fellow did not suspect that by pursu- 
 ing his fairy, he ran the risk of breaking the pretty net- 
 work of the virgin's threads with which fairies love to 
 surround themselves; the magician herself had not 
 
M A K K O F . 
 
 breseen so admirable and especially so wandering a 
 seal. Fortunately she knew nothing about it, and the 
 jvil that one is ignorant of does not "exist, at least, so 
 ong as one is ignorant of it. Ddmiane, moreover, had 
 10 very decided purpose in his mind, in starting thus in 
 earch of the Princess. He vaguely felt an encourage- 
 nent in the indication she had given him about Piati- 
 *orsk ; he said to himself that she would not so clearly 
 lave pointed out that place if she had not thought that 
 le might join her there ; but the Caucasus was very far 
 iway, and the bathing season very short. What did 
 hat matter? De*miane was young, ambitious and 
 mpatient, and he would be better off no matter where 
 ;han at Moscow to await what destiny promised him. 
 
234 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 JAROSLAV. 
 
 fT^HE view of Jaroslav is one of the most beautiful 
 I in Russia when not seen from the land route 
 from that side it resembles an infinite number of others 
 but from the Volga, with its high crenated ram- 
 parts, its churches with gilded cupolas, and with its 
 verdant cliffs that extend above the city, it is difficult 
 at first sight to imagine any place brighter or more 
 peculiar. 
 
 " They ought to love music here ! " exclaimed De*mi- 
 ane, who, on the evening of his arrival was standing on 
 the rampart heights, gazing at the river, which wasj 
 covered with white and red sails, and enlivened byj 
 ferry-boats which transported from one bank to thej 
 other animals, carriages, carts, and even simple pedes- 
 trians. Groups of peasant women, the young ones 
 wearing on their heads the kakochnik made of materials I 
 covered with gilt spangles, the old ones with their \ 
 heads wrapped in linen cloths, like the Holy Women ml 
 Italian pictures ; children wearing light-colored shirts ;! 
 men standing proudly erect with their legs encased' 
 in felt, which was bound around them by cords made! 
 of bark, and who wore antique red felt caps on theirl 
 chestnut curls, grouped themselves on the square ferry-I 
 boats, which were pushed along by robust boatmen, 
 who sometimes used a pole, and sometimes oars. They 
 
M A R K O F. 
 
 235 
 
 exchanged calls and rallying cries together, the horses 
 leighed scraping the sonorous boards with their hoofs, 
 sheep baa-ed, pressing with fright close to each 
 )ther, and over all the beautiful seven o'clock sun 
 threw its golden red rays in torrents, which gave in the 
 listance, to the long pieces of fine linen which were 
 spread out to bleach in the meadows, the appearance of 
 )riflambs lighted up by the gleam of battles. 
 
 " It is a rich country," replied Victor, who was less 
 enthusiastic and more positive. " Life looks as though 
 |it were easy here and money does not seem to be scarce." 
 In truth, in all the traktirs, in all the inns, could be 
 leard songs and laughter: a troup of Tziganes were 
 [sounding their tambourines in the large hall of the 
 principal hotel, and every one seemed to take pleasure 
 in listening to their refrains and odd melodies. In a 
 drinking-shop, two handsome fellows from the banks of 
 the Volga were dancing a wild trepaka, striking the earth 
 I with their heels, leaping and jumping, then continuing 
 to dance almost on a level with the ground, with their 
 legs bent under them, in a position which defied all the 
 laws of equilibrium. 
 
 "What a pity," said D^miane smiling, "that my 
 new dignity prevents my doing as they do ! It seems 
 to me that I could dance for an hour at least with 
 pleasure." 
 
 "In so joyous a city, there must be always a ball 
 somewhere," suggested Victor. 
 
 "Ah! my friend, the fine G-eselhchaft days arc over ! 
 A prizeman of the Conservatoire should show himself 
 only in a dress-coat and white gloves ! " 
 
236 M A R K O F . 
 
 They went to bed without dancing, but not without 
 music, for, leaning on the terrace that crowns the proud 
 girdle of ramparts, which are useless at the present 
 time, they listened far into the warm, pale night to the 
 chorus of boatmen who descended the stream, letting 
 themselves be cradled by the old four-part songs for 
 male voices, whose origin is unknown and which make 
 one think of the land of dreams. 
 
 The next day the two brothers made their official 
 visits, and learned that nothing was easier than to give 
 a concert ; at Jaroslav every one was bent on amusing 
 himself. A concert is not more tiresome than anything 
 else, especially if it be taken as a pretext for displaying 
 a pretty toilette, or for staying away from one's busi- 
 ness office. One difficulty arose ; the usual accompanist 
 at concerts was in bed, very ill, and he would not be in 
 a fit state to present himself to the public for a month, 
 should that happiness ever be granted him again in this 
 world. 
 
 " What is the matter with him, the poor devil ? " 
 Demiane asked a young music-loving scribe who con- 
 fided this to him in a room in the Town Hall. 
 
 The other raised his arm towards Heaven, and car- 
 ried his half-closed hand to his lips. In all spoken 
 languages or in pantomime this gesture has the same 
 signification. 
 
 " He drinks ? That does not make one ill a month ! " 
 
 " He has been drinking," replied the young man ; 
 " to speak the truth, he is at the hospital with delirium 
 tremens, but don't go and tell that in other cities." 
 
 "Never fear," replied Demiane, "I will be dumb, 
 
MARK OF. 237 
 
 especially because I do not believe that Jaroslav enjoys 
 supremacy in that kind of thing; there must be musi- 
 cians everywhere who love to crook their elbows. But 
 tell me, what do they do when this interesting fellow is 
 at the hospital, and they wish to give a concert ? " 
 
 " They are very much embarrassed ! The ladies of 
 the city show great willingness regarding it ; several 
 among them are very good musicians, and kindly accom- 
 pany amateurs, but for a stranger " 
 
 " I will be presented ! " said Ddmiane, who was dis- 
 couraged at nothing. " We are well brought up, and 
 then I have some letters of introduction." 
 
 They examined the letters. One of them gave them 
 access to a gouty General, who played the clarionette 
 to perfection. His wife was coquettish and grumbling, 
 tvhich is not so rare as one might suppose ; her daugh- 
 ter was ugly, and still more coquettish, but less 
 grumbling. 
 
 " That is all the same to me," said our friend ; " I 
 have not come here to get married or to make a collec- 
 tion of inflamed hearts. Can I find through these per- 
 sons some one to accompany me ? " 
 
 " There is a friend of the daughter who does not 
 play badly ; she accompanies very well indeed, but she 
 has never played in public ; I do not know whether 
 she would be willing to risk it." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Ddmiane, " with a man who lias 
 received a first prize for the violin ! " 
 
 They went to the gouty General's, who was delighted 
 to see a musician of merit who was patented by the 
 Conservatoire. 
 
238 MAKKOF. 
 
 " We will play my duo for the clarionette and vio- 
 lin," said lie ; " I rarely find an occasion for doing so. 
 The gentlemen of this city think it too difficult, and I 
 will get you an audience that will be as large as it will 
 be amiable, all my wife's daughters' friends and all 
 the ladies of the city are their friends eh, Penguin ! " 
 
 Penguin appeared in the shape of an old man with 
 gray hair, who was thick-set and grum-looking, clad in 
 mouse-colored gray, and who had moustaches besmeared 
 with tobacco, and who carried one arm behind his back ; 
 the other hung at his side, and both were so short that 
 they scarcely reached his pockets. 
 
 " You see what short arms he has," said the General, 
 "that is why I call him Penguin." 
 
 " Penguin ! go and tell Madame la Generale that we 
 have a first-prize man of the violin from Moscow here 
 for a concert; tell her to come immediately." 
 
 The person thus directed grumbled a sort of assent 
 and disappeared. They heard from behind the door a 
 prolonged sound of altercation, in which Penguin's 
 hoarse voice returned like a theme in a sonata with 
 these words : " The General commands it." 
 
 " Perhaps it disturbs your wife ? " said De*miane, 
 politely. 
 
 The music-loving functionary, whose calmness was 
 disturbed by nothing, waved his hand to indicate that 
 that was not of the slightest importance. 
 
 " Don't pay any attention to it," said the General, 
 " she always acts like that." 
 
 Victor thought that with such a home the General 
 was doubly unhappy in having the gout ; but just as he 
 
M A R K O F . 239 
 
 was giving his brother an expressive glance, la 
 ci-'il'' appeared, wearing a cap trimmed with straw- 
 colored. ribbons and a brooch in triptych-form repre- 
 senting her husband, her daughter and her son, who 
 was at that time serving under the flag; these last two 
 represented as very young and with crooked 
 months; but the painter was alone to blame for this 
 defect, which exposed the poor children to unkind 
 remarks from those who had never seen them. 
 
 On perceiving Victor, Madame la Gdndrale's grum- 
 bling nature caused her to make a slight grimace; but 
 the sight of -Demiane stimulated the coquettish element, 
 and the grimace resolved into a smile which did not 
 gain much in the transformation. 
 
 What is it?" she asked. 
 
 " These gentlemen wish to give us a concert ; Ver- 
 lomine sent them to me " 
 
 " I was not sent," said Victor, who was always 
 honest and scrupulous. 
 
 " That makes no difference," continued the General ; 
 " I will play my duet." La Gem'rale visibly shrugged 
 her shoulders; " Madame Bradof might sing a song, 
 and Vilsky another, or else both of them together a 
 duet. But who will accompany them? Could not 
 Mavroucha?" 
 
 " Mavroucha," affirmed Madame la Gcncrale, "can- 
 not pass the most of her time in practising with young 
 men!" 
 
 Her true mother's eye. looked with firmness on the 
 music-loving functionary; with disdain on Victor, and 
 with admiration tempered with severity on Demiane. 
 
240 MARKOP. 
 
 Well, little HelSne?" 
 
 44 Little Hdlene, that is another thing ! Her mother 
 brings her up so badly ! They let her talk to every 
 one ! " 
 
 44 Madame the mother of the mother of that 
 young lady, will she consent ? " asked De*miane, very 
 much embarrassed to know how to properly designate 
 little Heldne's mamma. 
 
 44 Oh ! that person always consents ! " said Madame 
 la Ge'ne'rale, shrugging her shoulders more than ever, 
 which made the triptych dance on her neck. 
 
 Victor instantly formed a bad opinion . of little Hdl- 
 ene's mamma; but he was a severe moralist, and 
 Demiane saw nothing wrong in it. 
 
 44 When can one see her ? " said he. 
 
 44 Monsieur will take you there," said la Ge'ne'rale, 
 pointing to the functionary with her chin. 
 
 44 You will come and tell me what you have decided 
 upon, will you not?" cried the General, just as the 
 young men had stepped over the threshold of the door. 
 44 You ought to have asked them to take some tea," said 
 he to his wife when they were alone. 
 
 44 People whom we do not know ! " she replied dis- 
 dainfully. 
 
 44 But if Verlomine sends them here " 
 
 44 You do not know, General, what it is to watch 
 over a young girl," said la Gene'rale. 44 When we have 
 seen what they are, we will invite them perhaps." 
 
 44 Yes," murmured the General, "when they will 
 have gone." 
 
MARK OF. 241 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 LITTLE HELEN E'S MAMMA. 
 
 T ITTLE HELENE'S mamma lived at the very end 
 JLJ of the city, almost in the suburbs; her house, 
 which was built of wood, was vast and barren looking, 
 and was supported on badly cracked columns, which 
 were painted yellow, with crowns of laurel-leaves white, 
 after the style of the First Empire. It was an ugly 
 house, indisputably, but a dwelling that possessed a 
 very noble appearance. A rather large garden, that 
 was full of old linden-trees, extended as far as the cliffs, 
 and overlooked the Volga and the gardens of the ram- 
 parts. The visitors ran up the steps, and a servant 
 maid, who was merry and fresh looking, but who was 
 singularly attired, came to open the door for them ; she 
 was barefooted and laughed in their faces. 
 
 "We are washing," said she, "it is a fancy of 
 Madame's. On awakening from her siesta, an hour 
 ago, she said that she had dreamed we were washing 
 the floors. This way, gentlemen; don't wet your feet. 
 Jump a little over here, and you will find yourselves in 
 the dining-room, which is dry." 
 
 Upon this singular advice, the three young men 
 jumped one after the other, over a pool of soap-suds, 
 which was already very black, and found themselves in 
 I the dining-room, which was dry. 
 
 Madame was not very wrong in having the floors 
 15 
 
242 MARKOF. 
 
 washed, to judge by the one in the dining-room, which 
 could not have seen a brush since the preceding Christ- 
 mas. Our friends looked at each other smiling, then 
 the functionary said in a low voice with an indulgem 
 tone: 
 
 "An odd house, but good music." A light step 
 was heard, then some one jumped over the pool o: 
 soap-sups, and little Helene found herself in the 
 room. 
 
 "Mamma is coming," said she in a sweet voice 
 without seeming troubled by her peculiar exercise 
 Her starched petticoat, which had yet only half de 
 scended to its place, disclosed two pretty little feet tha 
 were shod in common slippers. She had a blue ribbon 
 in her chestnut-colored hair, and wore a white muslin 
 dress with small black spots which was not very 
 clean. Her features were small, and too delicate to 
 be yet well formed, and her thin and youthful arms 
 her small red hands, her large brown eyes which were 
 a little sad, and all her person seemed resigned to 
 some proximate calamity, and it was evidently impos 
 sible to give her any other name than that of " littlt 
 Helene." 
 
 " It is with you that these gentlemen have business,' 
 said the music-lover, with a graceful gesture of his arm 
 towards the two brothers. 
 
 " With me ? " said the young girl, looking first at 
 Demiane and then at Victor, and then finally at De'mi- 
 ane who was the handsomer of the two. 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle," replied the latter, going straighl 
 to the point. " I wish to give a concert, and they assure 
 
M A R K O F 
 
 243 
 
 me that I shall have an audience, but there is no accom- 
 panist." 
 
 " I know, he is at the Hospital," said little Hdldne, 
 shaking her head compassionately. 
 
 "Precisely, and if you would be kind enough to 
 accompany me, and the other artists as well, you would 
 save us a great deal of trouble." 
 
 Helene looked alternately at the three men, and 
 her cheeks grew crimson, then pale, then crimson 
 again. 
 
 "A large concert?" she asked. 
 
 " I hope so ! " said Ddmiane, proudly. 
 
 " I should not dare to do so," Hdlene replied, in a 
 resigned tone of voice and casting down her eyes. 
 
 Nothing is easier. You have already played in 
 public?" 
 
 " Yes, but there were not a great many persons 
 |present." 
 
 " More or less, it makes no difference ; the essential 
 [thing is to be able to play in time in the presence of 
 strangers. You have talent they tell me ! " 
 
 The young girl blushed and looked at a black spot 
 rhich was conspicuous on the front of her skirt. 
 
 " I play the piano as well as I can," said she. 
 
 "That's perfect. I will send you the music, and 
 rou can practice it to-morrow; and we can play it 
 
 Aether once a day after to-morrow, a second time 
 
 Friday or Saturday, and we will give the concert on 
 iunday." 
 
 Helene did not seem disturbed at so short a notice, 
 )ut let her eyes wander around the room. 
 
244 MARK OF. 
 
 " I have no dress ready," she murmured, looking 
 embarrassed ; " my white dress is not clean " 
 
 " We will wash it for you, Mademoiselle," cried the 
 delighted maid, who appeared at that moment on her 
 hands and knees in the soap suds, at the threshold of 
 the door, with a brush in her hand and her hair in her 
 eyes. " We will wash it very clean ! We are not afraid 
 of a little soap ! " 
 
 The dishevelled head disappeared and the brush was 
 rubbed over the floor frantically. 
 
 "Will your Mamma make no objection?" De*miane 
 asked politely. 
 
 " Oh ! no ! she likes to have me play the piano before 
 people. She wishes me to be an artist." 
 
 " If you can assure me of her consent," said Demiane, 
 rising. 
 
 " Wait, I will go and speak to her about it," said 
 Hdlene, quickly. 
 
 She went to the door, jumping over the pool of water 
 and the servant so lightly that no one could tell how 
 she did it. While the three visitors looked at each 
 other smiling, they heard a heavy footstep on the 
 floor. 
 
 " You are insane," said a sleepy voice, " to scatter all 
 your water into the corridor." 
 
 "Eh! Madame, where would you have me put it?" 
 replied the maid, who stopped scrubbing. 
 
 "And you, where would you have me pass?" replied j 
 the same voice, with more vivacity. 
 
 " Do as Mademoiselle did," said the stout girl, laugh- 1 
 ing, " jump ! The gentlemen jumped too ! " 
 
MARK OF. 245 
 
 " Stupid ! " said the voice. " Wipe that up immedi- 
 ately." 
 
 " The servant-maid's red hand appeared with a towel, 
 and suddenly streams of water poured into the room, 
 even under the visitor's chairs, but no one paid atten- 
 tion to them; little Helene's Mamma entered and 
 bowed with rather a haughty nod to the three men, 
 who had arisen. Her daughter slipped in behind her 
 and remained standing. 
 
 "You wish my daughter to accompany you?" said 
 she to Demiane. " Good-morning, Monsieur Mozine," 
 she added in an aside to the functionary. 
 
 " If it is not impossible, Madame," replied the artist, 
 calling to his aid all his newly acquired knowledge of a 
 man of the world. 
 
 " Oh ! it is very easy, only she has no dress." 
 
 " Have we not told you, Madame, that we will wash 
 and iron it ! " said the servant-maid putting her head in 
 at the door, only this time it was erect. 
 
 " Then it is all right. Do you play the violin ? " 
 
 " I received the first prize of the Conservatoire of 
 Moscow," said De'miane, very modestly. 
 
 "H61ene blushed and seemed disturbed. She had 
 I never played with a prize-man from the Conservatoire. 
 Her mother smiled with delight. 
 
 "Prepare yourself well, little one," said she, "you 
 | will practise together in the concert-room." 
 
 " Oh ! no, mamma," said Helene, timidly, " not the 
 Ifirst time." 
 
 "Well, here, then? It is arranged for day aftei 
 I to-morrow." 
 
246 MAKKOF. 
 
 The young men rose and found themselves in the 
 street without being obliged to jump any more; the 
 stout servant had removed all obstacles. 
 
 "Is she not droll?" said Mozine, when they had 
 taken a few steps. 
 
 "The mamma?" 
 
 "No, the daughter." 
 
 " I do not know, I did not notice her particularly." 
 
 " She resembles Madame Moutine," said Victor, in a 
 low voice, "but her dress was very dirty." 
 
 " The house is so," replied the music-lover, philoso- 
 phically. 
 
 : 
 
MAKKOF. 247 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 TEA AT LITTLE HELENE's. 
 
 daylight, entering in great floods through the 
 four large windows of the drawing-room, of the 
 house with columns, fell disagreeably on the walls which 
 were ornamented with very ugly grey paper, which was 
 covered with yellow-colored designs, of that kind which 
 would be vainly sought after, except in the extreme 
 corner of some very remote province. Four large, 
 rounded windows were certainly a large number for 
 lighting a single room, but when not the smallest little 
 curtain, not the least glimpse of verdure, was added to 
 these enormous bay-windows, when the broad daylight 
 was in addition reflected on a shining, polished floor, 
 and in a mirror that made one's nose appear crooked, 
 one was in a certain way excusable for experiencing 
 sensations on looking in the glass, very like those of a 
 sick headache. 
 
 Demiane laid down his bow, wiped his brow and 
 said to little Helene : 
 
 "Don't you think it is too light here?" 
 
 Helene blushed and nervously fingered the music- 
 book which was placed on the piano-rack. 
 
 "They are washing the blinds," said she, embar- 
 rassed ; " they were dirty " 
 
 Demiane thought that they washed a great deal in 
 that house, which did not seem, nevertheless, any 
 the cleaner for it. 
 
248 M A R K O F . 
 
 " You can have a screen," said "Helene, leaving her 
 piano-stool with the sprightliness of a sylph. Before 
 De'miane had time to open his mouth, she disappeared. 
 He wiped his forehead again and looked around him. 
 
 What traveller in Russia is not familiar with the 
 immense room in which a few cane-seated chairs placed 
 along the walls, look at each other sadly from enormous 
 panels which are framed in frightfully massive mahog- 
 any, supported by consoles which are as heavy as the 
 stones of a fortress, these same consoles being upheld 
 by chiseled feet, which make one think of those of the 
 elephants which bear the ruined palaces of Angpor? 
 The mirrors have a greenish hue, but are frequently 
 beveled, though interminably long ; and one is scarcely 
 tempted to look at oneself in them, for they improve 
 one but little, or even not at all. A chandelier in gilt 
 bronze, in the style of the First Empire, hangs from the 
 ceiling, draped in gauze which has once been white if 
 the house is well-cared for which gives one the advan- 
 tage at least, of not being able to see it, but which is 
 quite bare, and made very dirty by flies, if the house is 
 neglected ; the one belonging to Heldne's mamma was 
 uncovered and not at all handsome. A large piano, 
 which is frequently new, and always d queue, fortu? 
 nately takes up a great deal of space in the vast 
 desert, and when the house is a well-ordered one, some 
 ottomans covered with yellow damask, may a]so be 
 found in it. There are white muslin curtains which 
 ornament the windows, and are hung on repoussS 
 gilded rods, and the windows are generally furnished 
 besides with white blinds, and with plants of rich 
 
M A R K O F . 
 
 249 
 
 )liage ; the whole presenting an aspect, if not hos- 
 pitable, at least quite dignified. This is the principal 
 drawing-room, that is to say : the ball-room. 
 
 The drawing-room of the housa with columns, pos- 
 sessed of these adornments only those which were 
 absolutely necessary, and besides the blinds were being 
 washed, as Helene had said ; but after all what was the 
 use of such vain ornaments? would the music be any 
 the better for them ? The piano at least was excellent, 
 but it was the only piece of modern furniture which 
 the large house contained. 
 
 While De*miane was winking his eyes to escape the 
 dazzle of the polished floor, Helene returned, followed 
 by the jovial servant, who carried in her outstretched 
 arms a light screen, made of small black-painted strips 
 of wood, and willow ornaments, the whole being lined 
 with green glazed muslin. This cheap piece of furni- 
 ture is to be found in all Russian dwellings, most fre- 
 quently in the maid's room ; but this one belonged 
 especially to the mistress of the house. 
 
 " Where must I place it for you ? " asked the stout 
 maid, laughing. She always laughed, no doubt, from 
 principle. 
 
 " Before the gentleman, between the window and his 
 rack." 
 
 "That is an idea! A screen ought to be placed 
 behind one's back, in order to prevent draughts, but no 
 one ever heard of such a thing as putting a screen in 
 front ! " 
 
 " Do as I bid you," insisted Helene, with a sad tone, 
 which was with her the expression of severity. 
 
250 M A R K O F . 
 
 The maid obeyed, then drew back a step in order to 
 enjoy the effect, shrugged her shoulders and went away. 
 
 " Let us begin again, will you ? " said the young 
 man, putting his violin to his shoulder. 
 
 Helene answered with a nod, and immediately struck 
 the first chord. She was always ready never kept 
 any one waiting, and never asked for anything. She 
 played without stopping, almost without breathing, the 
 entire allegro, and at the last note held her head motion- 
 less as though she were expecting a reproach. 
 
 " You play very fast," said Demiane, laughing ; " I 
 have hard work to follow you." 
 
 "Is it too fast?" said Hele'ne, turning her head a 
 little toward him with some anxiety. 
 
 " Not at all ! But I am not used to being so well 
 accompanied ! " 
 
 " You are in jest ! " said the young girl, slightly turn- 
 ing away. All her movements were gentle, and exe- 
 cuted with a sort of fear of making some noise, or 01 
 taking another's place. She seemed to contract her 
 little person, in order to occupy the least possible space 
 on earth. 
 
 " I am not jesting at all ! accompanists are detesta- 
 ble, it is an acknowledged fact. Ah I if I were always 
 accompanied as I am to-day, I would revolutionize the 
 world ! " 
 
 He sighed and touched a string of his violin. " The 
 concert will be very fine," continued he an instant later. 
 " I am sure I shall play well." 
 
 " God grant it ! " said the little maid in a low tone, 
 holding her breath. 
 
 
MARKOF. 251 
 
 Demiane raised his bow and they began the andante 
 with wonderful precision. The piano and violin seemed 
 to sound like one instrument, so truly did the chords 
 harmonize. They continued thus, both of them being 
 influenced to put all their science, all their feeling into 
 the music, which from a duty was transformed into an 
 exquisite delight. 
 
 De'miane thought of nothing but his art ; elated 
 by the new satisfaction, which was unknown to him till 
 then, of being able to wholly forget the piano part, he 
 allowed himself to play with an accompaniment as he 
 had never played till then, except for himself; the 
 result of which was that he heard, for the first time in 
 his life, the music he performed just as the composer 
 had conceived it. The public is unaware that except 
 in particularly happy circumstances the performer only 
 hears his own part well, and receives of the combined 
 execution nothing but a vague impression. All the 
 pleasure is for the listeners, and all the trouble for the 
 artist ; the latter is never really satisfied except when 
 he plays for himself, or for friends whose criticism he 
 does not fear. 
 
 " It is superb ! " said the young man, when they 
 finished; I have certainly played that sonata a hun- 
 dred times, and this is the first time I have ever heard 
 it." 
 
 "Why?" asked Helene, whose red hands were rest- 
 ing wearily on the keys. 
 
 " Because they played the piano part like a tiresome 
 duty, and you have executed it like an artist ! That's 
 the difference ! And with your little hands too ? How 
 do you do it?" 
 
252 MARKOF. 
 
 He*lene bowed her head and looked at her hands ; she 
 found them very red and not very clean. The hands 
 disappeared on her knees, one in the other. 
 
 " Do not hide them ! They are brave little hands. 
 Are you not tired ? " 
 
 " No, I am never tired." 
 
 " Then the second piece ! " 
 
 The music began again; the daylight was waning, 
 for the sun was going down behind the neighboring 
 forests, and outside the shadows were lengthening in 
 the streets, but the time did not seem long to the vir- 
 tuosi, who were working with an ardor that would be 
 surprising to any one who had not experienced the 
 same feeling. When they had practised everything, 
 when they were both entirely satisfied, little Helene's 
 mamma made her appearance in the large empty room. 
 
 " Well ! " said she, " are you pleased, Monsieur Mar- 
 kof?" 
 
 " Enchanted, madame, enchanted. Your daughter is 
 a veritable artist, an extraordinary person; I have 
 never heard any one accompany as she does. She will 
 be a great artist, I assure you once more." 
 
 " Do you hear, little HelSne ? " 
 
 "Yes, mamma," said the young girl lowering her 
 head and closing the music-book. 
 
 " You will take a little something with us, no matter 
 what it is, will you not, Monsieur Markof?" said the 
 mamma, with an air of royal favor. " You must 
 be hungry." 
 
 Demiane was hungry, and he confessed it without 
 shame ; in consequence of which he followed the lady 'a 
 
MARKOF. 253 
 
 majestic presence into a room which was almost as large 
 as the drawing-room and quite as scantily furnished. 
 The furniture was composed of eleven straw chairs, 
 the twelfth had a leg missing, and was lying in a corner 
 with its three other legs in the air, with a walnut 
 extension table, which was very old, and so warped 
 that its supports were constantly between Heaven and 
 earth. There was neither buffet nor sideboard, nor any 
 thing in the world that could make one suppose that a 
 table and chairs were not all sufficient for furnishing a 
 dining-room. We Western people, who have a passion 
 for encumbering ourselves with nick-nacks, cannot 
 understand such primitive simplicity, but it did not 
 shock Demiane, especially as the rickety table was very 
 well garnished. 
 
 " Take care, I beg of you," said his hostess to him, 
 " not to knock the table as you sit down, you might 
 upset the samovar." 
 
 Demiane took care, and as one might expect, knocked 
 the leg of the table and put the samovar's equilibrium 
 in danger ; but H&ene's prudent hand had foreseen the 
 accident and held the samovar by one of its handles so 
 that all mishap was avoided. 
 
 " You should have your table repaired," said he to 
 the lady, laughing. 
 
 " Oh ! it has been like this for so long that we are 
 accustomed to it." 
 
 " Do you never upset anything ? " 
 
 " Almost every day ; but we are accustomed to it." 
 
 Since such accidents had become so charming a 
 custom with these ladies, Demiane thought it would be 
 
254 MARK OF. 
 
 indelicate to say any more about it, and he gave all his 
 attention to a covered dish that held a prominent place 
 in the centre. 
 
 " It is fish from the Volga, Monsieur Markof," said 
 the lady to him, following his glance ; " I hope you will 
 find it to your taste." 
 
 Tea and fried fish ! It was a detestable bill-of-fare ; 
 however Ddmiane made no objection to it, and as the 
 repast was set off with a number of different hors 
 d'oevures, he found it excellent. 
 
 While he was enjoying this odd repast he gave a 
 glance at his hostess. Little Helene's mamma was of 
 no particular age, that is to say, she floated between 
 thirty-five and fifty-five years. Her rather evident 
 embonpoint was not a sign of health, for her com- 
 plexion was yellow and worn ; her blue eyes must have 
 been very handsome once, but they were now only 
 wearied and less dim than dark-circled. Some small 
 wrinkles around her mouth contrasted with the youth- 
 fulness of her brow and with her brown hair, which was 
 magnificent and heavy, and which obliged its owner to 
 throw her head slightly back. She wore a skirt of light 
 silk, which was worn and tumbled, but which had a 
 long train, and over it a small jacket of very light 
 chamois-colored cloth, which was trimmed with silver- 
 braid, all of which was tarnished and spotted. The 
 expression of her face was that of a gentle somnolence, 
 which was barely interrupted by the necessary duties 
 in regard to meals, and from time to time by some 
 sharp remonstrance addressed to a clan of servants whc 
 appeared one after the other to remove or to place the 
 dishes on the table. 
 
A R K O F . 
 
 255 
 
 " Perhaps you would prefer coffee ? " said the lady, 
 when Demiane hud swallowed two large glasses of tea. 
 " Pacha, Macha, Glafera, make some coffee, quickly ! " 
 
 "No, I thank you," exclaimed Markof ; "it is impos- 
 sible, Madame, I beg of you " 
 
 But the servants had rushed towards the kitchen, and 
 the sound of a coffee-mill was already to be heard ; the 
 lady reassured her guest with a wave of the hand. " I 
 am very fond of it," said she, " but it does not agree 
 with me; so I never take any except when we have 
 people here." 
 
 " If it is to do you a service," said Ddmiane, who 
 had a great desire to laugh, " I cannot refuse you." 
 
 The lady smiled and placidly crossed her dimpled 
 hands on her lap. She understood jesting very well. 
 
 " When will you practise together for the second 
 time ? " said she in a sweet and very pleasant voice. 
 
 " I see no necessity for practising again together," 
 replied Demiane ; " it sounds as well as it possibly can." 
 
 Little Hclne bestowed on the young artist a grateful 
 look, but it was so timid and fleeting that it scarcely 
 reached the end of his cravat. 
 
 " But," continued he, " if Mademoiselle could again 
 I give me an hour or two, I would take a great deal of 
 [pleasure in playing some other pieces with her, some 
 which I shall not play here, but which will do for the 
 I concerts I shall give this summer along the Volga." 
 
 "Nothing is easier," said the mamma gracefully, 
 ("little Helene will be delighted to practise with so 
 jminent an artist." 
 
 They exchanged compliments that were full of urban- 
 
256 MARK OF. 
 
 ity,-and the young girl, who remained sitting upright 
 in her chair, looked at her red hands with a shade of 
 sadness. 
 
 "Thank him, He*lne, thank the gentleman, who so 
 kindly wishes to contribute towards your perfection " 
 
 " And to my own," added the young man, looking 
 for the first time at the little pianiste with some atten- 
 tion. 
 
 The coffee appeared very opportunely ; when people 
 have complimented each other, nothing remains but to 
 separate, unless some favorable interruption occurs, and 
 Ddmiane, who was a little heavy after such a good 
 meal, did not feel disposed to leave at once. In spite 
 of his protestations, he accepted a cup of coffee, and 
 the feast began again with new elements. 
 
 " One must really come into the provinces, in order 
 to have so good an appetite," said the artist at length 
 by way of excusing an appetite of which he was 
 ashamed. 
 
 " It is the air," said the lady. 
 
 " Probably. Who taught your daughter to play the 
 piano ? " he asked, a little from curiosity and a great 
 deal for politeness' sake. 
 
 " It was the band-master of the regiment ; when the 
 Colonel, my husband, lived, we had an excellent band- 
 master: he played the piano to perfection, and he 
 composed wonderful waltzes ; he had a great affection 
 for little HelSne, and from her tenderest age taught her 
 all he knew." 
 
 " He made an accomplished scholar." 
 
 " She profited by his lessons and she did well," said 
 
31 A R K O F . 257 
 
 the mamma, sighing, " for she must make it a liveli- 
 hood. I have a pension from the Government, and this 
 house belongs to me ; but of what good is it? and I have 
 a very small property, situated a little above the town, 
 but all this does not bring in a very large income." 
 
 She sighed again, and her daughter raised to her face 
 her sad eyes, which were sadder than ever. Litt'e 
 Ilelene doubtless had heard this same story related 
 many times, and in the same words, but she had never 
 grown too familiar with it, at least not to the extent of 
 becoming indifferent. Demiane understood why she 
 never smiled. 
 
 " How she must bore herself ! " he thought to himself. 
 "But Mademoiselle plays in the concerts that are given 
 here," he continued, aloud; "I do not suppose she does 
 so gratuitously?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon, it is for the honor or the pleas- 
 ure of it, whichever you prefer," continued the mother, 
 somewhat bitterly, " and still, they do not find her well 
 enough dressed; the}' wish her to have new gowns! 
 And with what could one buy them, great heaven ! " 
 
 Demiane said to himself that if the concert succeeded, 
 before leaving the cit} T , he would send some pretty 
 present to the young virtuoso,. 
 
 " Do you know," continued the lady, " when you 
 return to Moscow, I wish you would try to find us some 
 pupils. When I say us, it means for her, you under- 
 stand? If you could hunt her up some scholar . I 
 would leave this town without regret, I assure you." 
 
 "Have you lived here for a long while?" asked 
 Demiane, mechanically. 
 16 
 
258 MARK OF. 
 
 " I was born here, and I married here. My father 
 was too fond of cards ; he lost everything, and my 
 husband did not have a cent. We adored each other ! " 
 
 " O foresight ! " thought the artist. 
 
 "I was married only eight years. Since my hus 
 band's death, I have not cared for anything." 
 
 Helene bent her head forward and bowed it very 
 gently, so that her lips found themselves on her 
 mother's hand and pressed it tenderly. 
 
 " She is a good child, Monsieur Markof," continue( 
 the lady, " and she does all she can. Try to find her 
 some pupils, arid we will be very grateful to you." 
 
 " I will try," replied he, " and I hope to succeed." 
 
MARKOF. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE BOUQUET. 
 
 rtlHE concert was superb, as they say on the banks of 
 _L the Volga. De'miane felt that day the excessive 
 joy of those absurd triumphs, in which the Slavonic 
 race seems to throw all the exuberance that it econo- 
 mizes the rest of the time. Victor modestly quaffed 
 the generous nectar that overflowed from the cup and 
 was inebriated by it as though he were the honored 
 one. 
 
 While a gentleman of the town executed on the 
 zither a piece that was as insipid as the instrument 
 itself but he had sold a hundred and twenty tickets ! 
 little Helene slipped near Victor and began to lay 
 regular siege to the brave fellow. Her victory was 
 quick and easy ; the key of the young cripple's heart 
 was his brother De'miane, and the lock opened of itself. 
 
 " You love him very much," said she in conclusion, 
 when she obtained a certain amount of information. 
 
 Victor nodded his head energetically. 
 
 " It was you who made him his violin ? " 
 
 " Oh ! not I alone ! Our friend Andr helped me a 
 great deal ; our friend Andre is very clever." 
 
 Little Helene remained thoughtful. 
 
 "I have no friends," said she, "no brothers, no sis 
 ters, no one ! " 
 
 " That is a great pity ! " said Victor feelingly. 
 
260 MARK OF. 
 
 He was born a brother to all those who had any 
 cause for complaining of destiny. 
 
 " Mamma is very good, but " 
 
 She lowered her head. 
 
 "She is not young enough for you?" suggested 
 Victor. 
 
 " It is not that. She does not like to give herself 
 trouble." 
 
 " You would like to go into society, perhaps ? " 
 
 " By no means. I love only music." 
 
 "What is it, then?" asked the honest fellow, for 
 whom the world and its conventionalities had still an 
 infinite number of mysteries. 
 
 " Not much ! " We are not rich, that is the misfor- 
 tune ! " 
 
 " We are not rich either ! " said Victor, laughing. 
 " What does that matter ! Imagine that formerly we 
 lived in corners" 
 
 " In corners ? " 
 
 He was obliged to explain what a corner was to little 
 H61ene; she smiled for an instant, then said : "It is 
 droll ! " and again assumed her pre-occupied air. 
 
 " I would like to earn some money," said she, lifting 
 her eyes to the platform which she saw outlined, from 
 the room where she was. " What can one do to earn 
 money ? " 
 
 Victor pointed with a gesture to the hall and to the 
 audience. 
 
 " There ! " said he ; " the way is not a bad one." 
 
 The young girl sighed. 
 
 " It is difficult," she said. 
 
MARKOF. 261 
 
 " Not for you, at all events ! You play the piano 
 ake an angel ! They will pay you very high at Moscow, 
 you may be sure ! " 
 
 " Do you believe so ? " 
 
 "I am certain of it! What a pity that you could 
 not come with us along the Volga ! We would do 
 wonders ! " 
 
 The gentleman with the zither entered, bearing his 
 instrument in his hand, and with all the joy of a de- 
 served success painted on the space comprised between 
 his crimson ears, his blond hair and his red beard. 
 
 "It is our turn now!" said Demiane, who entered 
 from the opposite door. He had gone outside to breathe 
 the air, for the heat was truly intolerable. 
 
 He entered the hall with little Helene on his arm, 
 and was greeted with frenzied applause. He smiled, 
 thanked them, and drew himself up, while the young 
 girl tranquilly arranged the music on the piano. She 
 felt a calm joy in hearing this artist applauded, who 
 was born in a village, and who had won the first prize 
 of the Conservatoire by the sheer force of work and 
 of will. Ddmiane's success seemed to her an act of 
 justice on the part of Fate ; after having lived in a 
 corner, this hero might aspire to a palace. When 
 the concert was over, Ddmiane hardly had time to 
 thank his young assistant ; she withdrew discreetly, 
 escorted by the merry, stout maid, who, for the occa- 
 sion, had put a green fichu with yellow flowers, over 
 her shoulders, which produced an astonishing effect, 
 and she returned to the house with columns to make 
 some tea for her mamma, who had palpitations of the 
 heart that day ard had remained in bed. 
 
262 MAKKOF. 
 
 While she was going to her large gloomy dwelling, 
 De*miane had much to do in order to escape from the 
 civilities of the towns-people. They urged him to give 
 a second concert. All the amateurs promised him their 
 assistance; Madame la Ge*ne*rale, accompanied by her 
 daughter, made him agree to go and take tea at her 
 house the same evening, and all the young men, calling 
 him by his name, created a clamor that deafened him. 
 He was obliged to consent to a second concert for the 
 following Thursday, and the enthusiastic crowd dis- 
 persed to spread the great news through all Jaroslav, 
 and to annoy in a proper manner, by the story of his 
 triumph, those who had not been able, or who had not 
 wished to be present. 
 
 Madame la Gene*rale invited for that evening all the 
 best society in Jaroslav. The reason of her change of 
 numor, was an extremely simple one. Ddmiane had 
 not presented himself at her house since his first visit ; 
 the General having the gout, had not been able to 
 rehearse his duet, and our friend had too many other 
 things to do, to go and inquire about him, as he should 
 have done. Madame la Gdndrale was dying to see the 
 handsome youth again, and moreover, she had heard of 
 the odd repast he had accepted at little Heine's 
 mamma's ; a cruel jealousy took possession of her soul, 
 and she resolved to exhibit Demiane at her house, to all 
 the flower of the town! On what does the fate of 
 empires hang ! 
 
 Demiane had a great desire to go to bed, although 
 it was not yet four o'clock in the afternoon, but Victor 
 was very hungry, on account of having eaten nothing 
 
M A R K O F . 263 
 
 since the day before, so fast had his heart beaten with 
 anxiety and hope. The two brothers declined a dozen 
 invitations to dinner, under the pretext of being 
 fatigued, and went to their hotel, where they ordered 
 themselves a repast to be served in their room. Ddmi- 
 ane looked at the food with disdain, took two or three 
 turns in the large chamber, which was adorned with a 
 blue, brown and white wall-paper, with large designs of 
 foliage on it, and which was as little conducive to sleep, 
 as are the majority of hotel rooms, and then threw 
 himself on the bed. Victor held still the spoonful of 
 soup that he had carried halfway to his lips, and looked 
 at him anxiously. 
 
 " Go on," said the musician ; " don't worry yourself 
 about me. It seems that after every concert I must 
 feel the same weariness ! Bah ! I suppose one gets 
 used to it ; perhaps ; we will see after our tenth one." 
 He yawned, turned himself over and tried to sleep 
 but the noise outside rendered slumber difficult. The 
 joyous animation in the traktirs continued to increase 
 since the morning, and the air everywhere was trem- 
 bling with the vibration of balalaikas, Tzigane's, tam- 
 bourines, accordeons, and all the portable instruments 
 which are in use among the people. After a few vain 
 attempts to court sleep, De'miane sat upright on the 
 edge of his bed, rubbed his eyes and said to lu's brother: 
 " Do you know how much the concert brought us ? " 
 Victor took out his note-book and read : 
 " Expenses: ninety-two roubles; receipts: five hun- 
 dred and twenty-one roubles; net profits: four hundred 
 and twenty-nine roubles, which are in my side pocket." 
 
264 MAKE: OF. 
 
 " So much as that ? " said Ddmiane, who was quite 
 awake, and who jumped to his feet. 
 
 " Certainly ! do you think I have added any of mine 
 to it ? " 
 
 The young artist approached the table. 
 
 " Let me see it," said he, " these Jaroslavstis' money. 
 It is like the Muscovites'," he added, after having 
 fingered the bank-bills. "What shall we give little 
 
 " Give her mamma some rnone} 7 . They are not rich, 
 the little girl told me so just now." 
 
 " Agreed. We will give How much ? " 
 
 " Twenty-five roubles ? " 
 
 Ddmiane shrugged his shoulders. " You are jesting," 
 said he, " fifty would not be too much. Do you believe 
 she will accept it ? " 
 
 "I have no doubt she will; the mamma, I mean to 
 sa} r . The young girl seems very unselfish." 
 
 " Well, I will go and order a bouquet for the young 
 lady. Give me an envelope to put the money in for 
 her mamma." 
 
 While this was being done, Demiane whistled a popu- 
 lar tune. 
 
 " It is a pity," said he, " that one cannot have an 
 accompanist along with one : it would save a great loss 
 of time, and many useless rehearsals ! But it is a 
 luxury that I cannot yet give myself." 
 
 " Without considering," observed Victor, " that one 
 sometimes gives one's self a master in that way ! There 
 are persons who have such disagreeable characters ! ' 
 
 " As for that, yes ! Are you coming ? " said the 
 musician, taking his hat. 
 
M A R K O F . 265 
 
 " If you have no need of me, I would prefer to finish 
 my dinner ! " 
 
 Demiane left, laughing, and went to a florist's, whose 
 address had been given him at the hotel. The bouquet 
 being ordered, our friend gave himself the pleasure of 
 looking at it while it was being made. Men become 
 weary of the pleasure of sending bouquets ; it seems 
 that women also grow weary sometimes of receiving 
 them, though this assertion appears a more hazard- 
 ous one, but the first bouquets, whether one receives, 
 or whether one gives them, possess a peculiar fragrance ; 
 it is a delicate pleasure, which recalls to the mind or 
 summons forth from the memory a whole range of 
 pure and delicate thoughts. There exists no more real 
 equality among flowers than among men : there is no 
 law in the world that would make a rich booby the 
 equal in the eyes of society of some distinguished 
 looking person who has no fortune, any more than a 
 bouquet of tulips could produce the same effect as 
 a handful of lilies-of-the-valley, and the gardenia will 
 never make one think of the same things as will a 
 bachelor's-button, no matter how charming the bouquet 
 of field-flowers may be. Thanks to the association of 
 ideas, there will always be an aristocracy among plants. 
 
 When the bouquet was finished De'miane looked at 
 it with delight; they were the first flowers he had ever 
 given to a woman, and he was very grateful to little 
 Hdlene for having made him taste this new happiness. 
 
 "To whom must they be sent?" asked the florist 
 with a smile which he intended should be a knowing 
 one. 
 
266 MARKOF. 
 
 At the young virtuoso's name, the smile departed: 
 little Helene was not an interesting person. However 
 a boy was dispatched with it and with De'miane's card. 
 
 Just as the latter was going to follow his present, a 
 ray of sunshine streamed through the street with so 
 much boldness that the young man turned his back to 
 it, in search of shade, and his feet soon led him into the 
 fields. He found the sun there, but he went behind a 
 clump of great birch-trees, whose entwined branches 
 formed a very nice screen. It was under the shadow 
 of these beautiful trees that our friend took a short 
 siesta, which was full of dreams and visions. 
 
 When he awoke the sun was hiding itself behind the 
 neighboring forest, leaving enough brightness floating 
 in the air to prevent things which were perfectly illum- 
 ined from casting any shadows on the ground. This 
 soft light fills one with agreeable impressions, and it 
 was with a mind quite free from all care that Demiane 
 went towards the house with columns. 
 
 As he approached some well-known sounds struck 
 his ear. It was the piano arrangement of Mendels- 
 sohn's Fourth Symphony, which is simply a hymn to 
 joy; the earnest appeals of the high notes, the trem- 
 bling of the lower tones, which seem to hasten to a 
 happy end, give to the ear the impression of a beau- 
 tiful, bright, sunshiny spring day, one of those days on 
 which one cannot be sad, and when, cost what it may, 
 one must rush forth under the young leaves just burst- 
 ing from their buds. 
 
 How little Helene played that joyful symphony ! 
 How she put her own individual accent into it which 
 
MARKOF. 267 
 
 the fortes, pianos, accelerando*, rallentandos of the 
 printed music could never express, no matter how much 
 pains one might take to note them ! She played as 
 though she were composing the music as she went 
 along, which one would have said was borne afar by a 
 group of butterflies, and the sounds flew away in the 
 calm, luminous, evening air, as though they went to 
 make part of some invisible harmony, high up in the 
 blue heavens, where the swallows described their fan- 
 tastic circles. 
 
 Demiane slackened his steps, and then stopped ; the 
 windows of the house were wide open, but no one 
 appeared at them; he waited until the allegro was 
 finished, and then he rang. Little Hdldne pushed away 
 her piano-stool and appeared on the threshold of the 
 drawing-room just as he entered the ante-chamber. At 
 the sight of the young man her pretty little face became 
 of a rosy hue, and she made a slight movement towards 
 him, which was at once checked. 
 
 " You have an extraordinary talent," said De*miane 
 to her, without taking time to show her the least 
 civility. 
 
 " What a beautiful bouquet you sent me," she replied, 
 as though there was a necessary relation between the 
 two ideas. 
 
 They entered the drawing-room together, and Ddmi- 
 ane saw on the grand piano his bouquet in a common 
 vase, placed so that it could be seen above the music- 
 rack by any one who was playing. 
 
 "It is true, it is pretty," said he, smiling, "but you 
 must thank the florist for that." 
 
268 MAKKOF. 
 
 " I have never received a bouquet before," said little 
 Helene, leaning over the roses to drink in their sweet- 
 ness. 
 
 " And I have never sent one before ; what a coinci- 
 dence ! " said De*miane, laughing. " Pray continue your 
 symphony." 
 
 " Would it give you pleasure ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! or else I would not have asked you." 
 
 She sat down before the piano without the least hes- 
 itation, and began the little allegretto, which is so modest, 
 so melancholy, and so simple, and which is the thin, 
 cautious shadow of that picture of brilliant sunshine. 
 While she played, a thousand different impressions 
 were painted on her pretty, little face, which was as 
 unassuming and as sweet as the music itself ; she felt 
 what the Master intended should be felt, and something 
 far more rare, she knew how to render it. 
 
 " Go on," said Demiane when she ended. 
 
 She continued, and the minuetto resumed under her 
 fingers the fantastic and undulating motion of butter- 
 flies in the June air ; joy returned to her delicate fea- 
 tures as well as to the atmosphere of the drawing- 
 room, and De'miane declared himself satisfied when she 
 finished. 
 
 "It is very good, very good," said he, while the 
 virtuosa refreshed herself by plunging her small nose 
 in her bouquet. " You are very wrong not to play 
 in public. You have in your ten fingers what is neces- 
 sary to make yourself a reputation." 
 
 " I should never dare to do it ! " said Hlne, looking 
 at him with an alarmed air. 
 
MARKOF. 269 
 
 " I assure you that I have heard persons play who did 
 not equal you by a great deal ! " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Here, they would never allow me to play alone in a 
 concert ; I am only good as an accompanist, and they 
 know it very well. I also, know it well ! " 
 
 " It is not my opinion," continued Ddmiane. " By 
 the way, what shall we play at our next concert ? " 
 
 " Is it true then, that there will be a second concert ? 
 I am very glad of it! We will play anything you 
 wish ! " said IMene, joyfully. 
 
 Demiane looked at her attentively for the first time. 
 
 "How old are you?" said he to her, with some 
 surprise. 
 
 " Nineteen years old. Have I not still the appear- 
 ance of a little girl ? " 
 
 "Yes and no, that depends. I thought you were 
 younger, however." 
 
 " Every one thinks me younger than I am, and calls 
 me little Hdlene, because I have not seemed to know 
 how to grow." 
 
 Demiane measured her with his eye; she was not 
 small, but she was so slender, so thin, so fragile ; her 
 feet, her hands, her face, were so delicate that she 
 looked like a child. Perceiving herself thus the object 
 of the young man's scrutiny, she seemed disturbed and 
 returned to her bouquet, her great consoler and her 
 friend. 
 
 "I am glad to-day," said she; "it is a very long 
 while, oh ! a very long while since I have been so glad. 
 It is because the concert succeeded so well." 
 
270 MARKOF. 
 
 " Ah ! " said De*miane, " and your mamma ? I quite 
 forgot to ask you how she was ? " 
 
 " She is no worse ; she has remained in bed. It often 
 happens to her " 
 
 "To be ill?" 
 
 "Yes, and to remain in bed. But I can play the 
 piano just the same, it does not disturb her." 
 
 " I have something for her " 
 
 " I will take it to her," said Helene eagerly ; "what 
 is it?" 
 
 De*miane put his two fingers into his pocket, then he 
 hesitat^. and blushed. 
 
 " I would prefer," said he, " to send it to her by the 
 maid." 
 
 Helne called the stout maid, who presented herself 
 immediately. She had laid aside her green fichu^ but 
 her well-soaped face was as shiny as ever. 
 
 " Take that to Madame," said he to the rustic sou- 
 brette, as he handed her the closed envelope. 
 
 Helene followed with her eyes the message and the 
 messenger, and a shadow spread over her face ; she 
 then looked at the young artist alarmed and reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 De*miane, who was now in his turn disconcerted, 
 approached the bouquet and smelt a bit of heliotrope. 
 
 " Madame would like to speak to you," said the Iris, 
 returning. 
 
 He followed her into an odd looking room, which was 
 still more oddly furnished. A very low camp-bed occu- 
 pied the middle of the chamber, and on it Hdlene's 
 mamma, who was fully dressed, and covered with an 
 
MARKOF. 271 
 
 old pelisse of grey fur, was taking a cup of tea. The 
 cinders and remains of a fabulous number of cigarettes 
 covered the waiter which was placed on a chair near 
 her. The small willow screen, which had previously 
 protected the young man's eyes from the dazzling day- 
 light in the drawing-room, was in its old place in front 
 of the bed ; two or three chairs, filled with parts of her 
 toilette, a washstand, whose pitcher was without a 
 handle, and which was moreover slightly chipped in 
 places, a pair of embroidered slippers on the edge of the 
 bed, and a pack of cards scattered on a table, completed 
 the furniture. 
 
 " Sit down, Monsieur Markof," said the lady, point- 
 ing to a chair at the foot of the bed, which the maid 
 dusted with her apron before offering to him ; " I 
 must thank you for the generosity you have displayed 
 toward us. The bouquet was quite sufficient." 
 
 De*miane smiled; this way of considering things 
 appeared original to him, but he was so surprised at 
 what he saw around him, that he only had time to 
 make some commonplace reply. 
 
 "I hope," continued the Mamma, "that you will 
 bring good luck to my little Helene ; this is the first 
 time that her talent has earned her anything ! " 
 
 " It will enrich her soon, I hope," said Ddmiane 
 politely. 
 
 " I doubt it ! No one is a prophet in his own 
 country, you know, Monsieur Markof; we should be 
 obliged to leave Jaroslav; and without any friends, 
 without any protector, where could two women gc 
 alone?" 
 
272 MARK OF. 
 
 Ddmiane nodded his head approvingly. 
 
 " And then," said he, " no doubt you cling to this 
 house, to your habits ? " 
 
 " My habits, good Heavens ! I have had none for a 
 long while! I sleep on a camp-bed, you see; it 
 belonged to my late husband, when he accompanied 
 his regiment. I was married here, Monsieur, but I 
 followed the Colonel to all his garrisons, and I only 
 returned when he died. I assure you that in that kind 
 of life one does not acquire habits ! " 
 
 " Are you very fond of Jaroslav, then ? " 
 
 " Not at all ! It is a horrible town ; the aristocracy 
 of the place are insufferably haughty ; these people 
 have never been willing to treat me as their equal, and 
 yet as regards my birth, I am better than any of them ; 
 but a colonelle has no rank, one must be a genSrale, and 
 then I am not rich. Never mind, Monsieur Markof, 
 you have acted very nicely, and I must thank you 
 for it." 
 
 The artist rose, bowed and returned to the drawing- 
 room where Helthie met him half reproachfully; but 
 on seeing Demiane's calmness, her face again wore its 
 usual expression. 
 
 " Till to-morrow," said he to her as he held out his 
 hand; "I will come at twelve o'clock, and we will 
 select our pieces." 
 
 " Are you going ? I thought that perhaps you would 
 remain to take some tea with us ! " 
 
 " I am invited to Madame la Ge'ne'rale's house. You 
 will be there without doubt ? " 
 
 "They have not asked me," said she bowing hei 
 
MARKOF. 273 
 
 head; "they never invite me when they have com- 
 pany." 
 
 " So much the worse for them ! " said the young man 
 frowning : " it does no honor to their good taste. Till 
 to-morrow, then." 
 
 " Bring your brother with you," said she timidly, as 
 she accompanied him to the door. 
 
 " Ah ! you have become acquainted with each 
 other ? " 
 
 "He is so good! I think I should like him very 
 much. He will come, will he not ? " 
 
 " He will be too happy to obey you." 
 
 The door closed on Ddmiane, and Hdlne from the 
 window, sa\v him walking away proudly, with head 
 erect; he was as handsome and as proud as Apollo. 
 When he disappeared, she returned to the piano, touched 
 the keys with the ends of her fingers, and smelt of her 
 bouquet, then suddenly recalling something went to 
 find her mother. 
 
 " Little one," said the latter, on seeing her, " guess 
 how much Markof has given us for the concert ? " 
 
 The little one's eyes dilated strangely, and she did 
 not answer. 
 
 " Fifty roubles, my darling ! It is the first money that 
 you have earned ; make the sign of the cross with it so 
 that it may bring you happiness ! " 
 
 Heldne obeyed mechanically, then returned the bank 
 bill to her mother. 
 
 " We are going to make you a new dress for the 
 other concert, a beautiful tarlatane shall it be pink?" 
 
 " White, mamma, if you please," 
 17 
 
274 MAKKOF. 
 
 " As you choose. Send me the maid with your old 
 dress, that I may see how much material is needed." 
 
 Helne left and executed her mother's order ; but 
 instead of returning to assist at the council, she went 
 directly to her bouquet. 
 
 The daylight was dying, without becoming quite 
 dark, as it does at that period of the year in that lati- 
 tude ; and the drawing-room, being less lighted, seemed 
 also sad and barren ; little Hdlene could dream at her 
 ease. She began to walk slowly from one end of the large 
 room to the other, stopping a moment each time that 
 she passed near the flowers, and soon, without knowing 
 the reason why, she found her face bathed in tears. 
 The peace of that day had been disturbed. By what? 
 It was very nice, however, to have earned so much 
 money. Earned it! The first money that one earns 
 gives birth to so many emotions, so many new thoughts 
 in one who is beginning life. Yes, but it ought not to 
 have been given by Demiane ! She would have been 
 so happy to have played with him, without any pay, 
 for the honor of it. She suddenly seized her bouquet, 
 buried her face in it and her tears fell on the roses. 
 
MARKOF. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 MADAME LA GENERAL E'S PARTY. 
 
 AT Madame la Ge'ne'rale's, Ddmiane in truth received 
 an ovation ; this lady who by the way, could not 
 pride herself on being logical, proclaimed the young 
 artist, " the first man of his age ! " No one knew, how- 
 ever, very well what she meant by this expression, and 
 the assembly was a brilliant one ; the good lady invited 
 all the most fashionable people in Jaroslav, her best 
 friends and her worst enemies, the former for the pleas- 
 ure of their society, the latter, in order to humiliate 
 them by her superiority. Looking very ugly and being 
 over dressed she went from one group to another, and 
 the result of her efforts was a general request for a 
 piece on the violin. 
 
 Ddmiane was not very much inclined to play; 
 besides the weariness which was natural for him to feel 
 after an effort such as he had made that day, he shared 
 with many artists an idea that the common run of 
 people contend against vehemently, but which never- 
 theless gains ground every day, namely : that a musi- 
 cian is no more obliged to pay for his invitation by 
 giving a specimen of his talent, than a painter is con- 
 strained by custom to make a sketch every time he goes 
 to pass an hour in a drawing-room. However the enthu- 
 siastic young folks having applauded him several times, 
 he sent to the hotel for his instrument of torture, and 
 suffered himself to be conducted to the piano. 
 
276 MARK OF. 
 
 Mademoiselle Mavroucha, her Excellency Madame 
 la Ge*ne*rale's own daughter, dressed in light blue and 
 extremely decollete, awaited him on the piano-stool 
 with her yellow shoulders protruding prominently from 
 her dress, and her red arms resting on her knees. She 
 cast a pathetic glance at the artist, and pointed with 
 her finger to the name of the piece of music that was 
 open on the rack. It was the very one which De'miane 
 played with Helene that very morning. Without 
 thinking of his accompaniment, the young man, who 
 meant no harm, gave himself the note, and the music 
 began. 
 
 What an artist of talent can suffer when he is badly 
 accompanied and when, the piano being played by a 
 woman, he cannot give vent in a low tone to one of 
 those good oaths which solace a troubled spirit, no one 
 can appreciate save those who have been in such a 
 situation. The piece was finished, to the admiration of 
 some, and to the dissatisfaction of others ; for one meets 
 everywhere in Russia, people of taste, who are connois- 
 seurs in music, and whom it is impossible to deceive. 
 
 "What do you think of my daughter's playing?" 
 asked la Gendrale, as she approached Demiane to thank 
 him. 
 
 " She is still a little inexperienced ; but at her age that 
 is only an additional charm ! " the artist dared to reply, 
 thinking of the success of his second concert, and trust- 
 ing that the tickets the mother would sell would pay 
 him for the impudent falsehood. 
 
 Mavroucha raised her eyes, which were full of smoth- 
 ered fire, on the young man, and smiled and blushed. 
 
MARK OF. 277 
 
 He went to receive compliments from the others, and 
 the young girl withdrew into a little corner which was 
 isolated from the drawing-room by some green plants, 
 in order to meditate on an idea which had just taken 
 root in her dull brain. 
 
 The young man found that she possessed charms, 
 and she! how much did she not find in him! Now 
 Mademoiselle Mavra of which Mavroucha is the pet 
 name and not the abbreviation, as is usually the case 
 with most nicknames had stuffed her head with 
 novels at the Institute of Kasan, where she was edu- 
 cated ; in all those novels, a young girl of good family, 
 after a thousand vicissitudes, became the wife of a 
 handsome young man without fortune, who was dis- 
 covered afterwards to be an immensely rich prince. 
 But what did rank or fortune matter to Mademoiselle 
 Mavra? The essential thing for the moment was to 
 see herself beloved by a handsome young man, who 
 was different from all others and noticeably destined 
 for something extraordinary. De*miane united all these 
 qualities and the young girl, with that readiness for 
 receiving impressions, which distinguishes young ladies 
 who are educated in Institutes, from all other young 
 ladies on the globe, declared herself instantly in love 
 with the violinist. 
 
 It is indeed something to be in love with a remark- 
 able young man, but it is also very necessary that he 
 should return that love. Now how can he return it if 
 he does not know of it? Would a violinist of talent, 
 but without fortune, dare to raise his eyes to the 
 daughter of a General, to an heiress, to the flower of 
 
278 MARK OF. 
 
 the nobility of the country ? Evidently he would not. 
 Besides, true merit is always modest and needs to be 
 encouraged. Therefore that De'miane must be encour- 
 aged was as clear as the day. 
 
 While Madame la Generale, who was talking of form- 
 ing a contre-danse, was looking for her daughter, who 
 was so well protected from indiscreet young men, 
 contrary to little Helene, whom they allowed to talk 
 with every one, the young person was scribbling in 
 her room, on a little piece of pink paper, the following 
 words, which were an echo of her thoughts: 
 
 " De'miane, you have genius and I love you ! 
 
 " MAVKA." 
 
 "Mavroucha!" cried her mamma, who was looking 
 for her everywhere. 
 
 " Mamma ! " replied the young lady, appearing. 
 
 "Where are you hiding yourself? The dances must 
 be arranged ! Mon Dieu ! how red your face is ! " 
 
 " It is the heat, mamma," replied the young dissem- 
 bler. 
 
 " Come quickly, I am going to ask Monsieur Markof 
 to dance the first contre-danse with me. I think he 
 will know enough to ask you for the second one." 
 
 " Yes, mamma." 
 
 The ball opened brilliantly. Markof had progressed 
 since the day of his entrance into society under the 
 auspices of the G-esellschaft, and he went through the 
 first quadrille, and even the cotillon, with honor to 
 himself. For the second contre-danse, he engaged Made- 
 moiselle Mavra, as had been foreseen ; but what he had 
 
M A R K O F . 279 
 
 not foreseen was the thunderbolt in a serene sky, which 
 was to put a stop to his successes for that day. 
 
 The first figure ended. During the moments of rest, 
 when every one having returned to his place, awaits 
 the signal from the piano to begin the second, he held 
 out his hand to his partner, who made an awkward 
 movement, and the pink paper which was folded to- 
 gether and which she had taken from her glove, fell 
 at their feet on the polished floor. 
 
 One can never imagine, unless one has heard it, what 
 a noise a little piece of folded paper can make as it 
 falls on the floor, when every one is motionless and 
 silent, waiting for the signal. Moreover, Mavra's dress 
 was blue, the polished floor light-brown, the note pink 
 and written on thick paper, and clumsily folded. The 
 entire company turned their eyes towards the couple ; 
 Mavra gave a scream of despair and fell on her chair in 
 a half-real, half-feigned swoon. 
 
 " A note ! " This word ran through the room in a 
 very loud whisper, and betokened a rising storm. 
 
 " My daughter ! " exclaimed la Ge*ndrale, flying to 
 her child. 
 
 The unfortunate Demiane, to whom Caroline had 
 not revealed all the secrets of feminine artfulness, 
 stooped, without thinking there was any harm in so 
 doing, to pick up the note. La Gdnerale, who sus- 
 pected the truth her instinct probably being aided 
 by something similar in her experience thought only 
 of keeping up appearances. 
 
 "A note to my daughter!" she exclaimed; "you 
 dare try to give a note to my daughter, and in my 
 
280 M A R K O F . 
 
 presence ! in the presence of this honorable company I 
 Ah ! Monsieur ! you are only a miserable madman ! 
 Begone ! " 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed Demiane, with a bound, at the 
 undeserved insult. "I, with a note! May the devil 
 take me if the note did not fall from your daughter's 
 hand ! " 
 
 Two thirds of the company began to laugh. Made- 
 moiselle Mavra's romantic disposition was a secret to 
 110 one, and out of forty guests, there were at least 
 thirty-nine who were perfectly convinced of Demiane's 
 truthfulness. But the young girl's honor, said some, 
 the respect due to appearances, said others, made a 
 scape-goat necessary, and Demiane lost his cause by 
 pleading it with too much simplicity. Another, clev- 
 erer than he, would have humbly excused himself, 
 while at the same time, knowingly winking to the right 
 and to the left, and he would have had the whole town 
 on his side. In the state in which things were, there was 
 nothing for our friend to do but to take his hat and 
 retire, which he did, while a too zealous lady threw the 
 contents of a pitcher of water over Mavra's blue dress 
 and thus drew the young girl from her swoon. 
 
 Victor, who escaped from the fray, followed his 
 brother without saying a word, and they returned to 
 their hotel very much disenchanted. 
 
 "What will happen?" asked poor Victor, sadly, 
 when each one was seated on his own bed. There k 
 no one who has not remarked how in all great calami- 
 ties, one sits more willingly on the edge of one's bed 
 than on a chair, when the height of the bed will allow it. 
 
MARKOF. 281 
 
 " The second concert is done for ! " replied Ddmiane, 
 accompanying this conclusion with an expression that 
 was not very flattering to Mademoiselle Mavra, whose 
 name he did not know. 
 
 " Then it was she who gave the note to you ! " 
 
 " Do you suppose by any chance that I am stupid 
 enough. If she had only known how to do it adroitly. 
 But she is as silly as she is ugly ! " 
 
 " What can we do ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? Go to bed first and try to sleep, 
 for it is midnight. There will be time enough to 
 grumble to-morrow and on the following days ! " 
 
282 M A 11 K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 DKIVEN AWAY! 
 
 IT happened the next day, that an order arrived 
 from the chief of police to leave the town within 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 Such a heavy blow, such an undeserved affront was 
 well calculated to dishearten timid Victor. D^miane 
 was not of the same temperament ; hardly had he heard 
 the fatal news, than he went at once from house to 
 house, endeavoring not to diminish its effect, but to 
 make himself sure of some friends. 
 
 Friends were not wanting, but every one, while 
 wholly blaming Madame la Generale and her silly 
 daughter, recognized the necessity of bowing to the 
 decrees of the authorities. They were very willing to 
 laugh in their sleeves at the mishap which had oc- 
 curred to the pink note, and no one had believed Demi- 
 ane guilty ; but no person was willing to undertake to 
 intercede with the chief of police, with the Governor, 
 or any one else. 
 
 " The one who is the most vexed," said Mozine, as 
 he acccompanied Ddmiane to the door of his office, " is 
 the General, who will not be able to play his famous duo 
 for the clarionette and violin ; it is the ninth time that 
 he has missed the occasion of so doing; he must be 
 furious, for he will never find a like one again." 
 
 The young artist was not in a much better temper 
 
M A R K O F . 283 
 
 than the General, but he had no right to complain 
 aloud, at least, and recognizing the uselessness of his 
 efforts, he resolved to yield to fate instead of struggling 
 against it. 
 
 " What do you advise me to do ? " he asked the 
 music-lover. 
 
 " To go and give a concert in another town, a little 
 distant from here ; they gossip so much in the country! 
 Were I in your place, I would go as far as Nijni with- 
 out stopping. Nijni is far enough away for the rumors 
 of Jaroslav to die away before reaching it." 
 
 " We are going to leave," said D^miane to Victor 
 when he returned to the hotel. " I have just come from 
 the river bank. There is a boat which leaves for Nijni 
 at ten o'clock to-night. We will take it." 
 
 " So much the better* ! " sighed the poor fellow. 
 " Since the police have interfered with our affairs, I do 
 not even dare to go near the window. The waiters in 
 the hotel look at me with suspicious glances ; I am sure 
 they think that we have stolen something ! " 
 
 Demiane shrugged his shoulders and began to pile 
 his things into his valise. Victor did the same on his 
 side, but so mournfully that it was a severe trial for his 
 brother's nerves. When they finished they looked at 
 each other, and the violinist's bad humor burst forth. 
 
 "Though you may look like a fountain whose basin 
 has been carried away, it will not prevent la (iondrale 
 from being a goose, her daughter a dunce and the Gen- 
 eral an ass ! without counting the chief of the police 
 and the Governor, who are two buffaloes ! " 
 
 " Demiane, in the name of Heaven, hold your 
 
284 M A R K O F . 
 
 tongue ! You will get us into prison ! " exclaimed 
 Victor, who was bold through his alarm. 
 
 "I have finished with that menagerie," concluded 
 Demiane, who was a little calmed by the words he 
 uttered. " What I meant to say to you was, that you 
 really look as though you had committed some theft, 
 and that your face will be the means of our getting 
 shot if you do not change it ! Rouse yourself and 
 come with me." 
 
 " Go out in the street ? " stammered Victor, who had 
 become quite pale. 
 
 " Where would you have one go, if not in the street ? 
 Really, I believe the air of this town is unusually stu- 
 pefying I I do not understand you I " 
 
 " In the street, Demiane ; why, they will point their 
 fingers at us ! " 
 
 "Well, that will occupy them. I think they have 
 become idiotic from having nothing to do. It will be 
 an occupation for them until this evening, .and to-mor- 
 row they can rest." 
 
 " Where do you wish to go? " 
 
 " To little Hdlene's ! We cannot leave without bid- 
 ding them good-bye. And then we will see if they are 
 as stupid as the others. That would surprise me, how- 
 ever." 
 
 Victor did not dread little HelSne very much, and 
 if he could have gone to her house without passing 
 through the streets, he would have shown an astonish- 
 ing eagerness to do so. Unfortunately, it was impos- 
 sible, and he was obliged to go out under curious, 
 cunning or alarmed glances, according to the characters 
 
MARK OF. 285 
 
 of the different waiters in the hotel. Just as they 
 were about to step across the threshold of the door, 
 the proprietor presented himself, with a paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Will these gentlemen please to settle their little 
 bill," said he, not very politely. 
 
 " But we are not going to leave till this evening," 
 observed Victor, who did not understand. 
 
 " I would prefer to have your luggage carried to the 
 boat immediately," continued the personage. 
 
 Victor was going to have a discussion, but his 
 brother put his hand on his arm. 
 
 " You do not understand," said he calmly, " that this 
 good man turns us out of doors. He imagines that we 
 have stolen the bell from the cathedral. Show me 
 your bill, my friend," said he to the host, who did not 
 know what face to put on the matter. 
 
 He took the paper, and placed it on the high desk 
 which is to be found in the peristyles of all Russian 
 hotels, probably for the purpose of revising bills, and 
 added the sum with the same calmness as though he 
 were at school. 
 
 " You have twice charged the tea we had day before 
 yesterday in the morning, and two dinners too many ; 
 see for yourself." 
 
 " It is true," stammered the host, " permit me, I will 
 go and alter it " 
 
 " I will alter it myself. There is your money. As 
 to our luggage, don't trouble yourself about it, we will 
 take it ourselves. Do you wish to look into our valises 
 to see whether we are carrying off any of yutir furni- 
 ture?" 
 
286 M A R K O F . 
 
 " Permit me, Monsieur, such an idea never " mur 
 mured the host, astounded at this manner of acting. 
 
 "No such idea? well, so much the better." 
 
 De*miane ran quickly up to their room, while the 
 host made the most profuse excuses to Victor, who did 
 not listen to him, and he descended immediately, carry- 
 ing the two valises in one hand, and his violin in its 
 case in the other. 
 
 " Come, brother," said he, " do not let us contaminate 
 any longer the honorable house of this proprietor. 
 Good afternoon, Monsieur, and good luck ! " 
 
 He left without turning round, followed by Victor, 
 who hurriedly took one of the valises from him. 
 
 When they turned the corner of the first street, 
 Ddmiane stopped to change the articles he was carry- 
 ing, from one hand to another. 
 
 " That is not the way to the river," observed Victor, 
 seeing him continue his route with a deliberate step. 
 
 " Did I not tell you that we were going to the house 
 of little Helne ! " growled D^miane, hastening his 
 gait. 
 
M A RK O F . 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 QUICK RESOLVES. 
 
 AT the artist's ring, he rang very loudly without 
 knowing it, the stout maid came running with 
 bare feet and opened the door with a merry look on 
 her face; at the sight of the valises she burst out 
 laughing, and ran to announce to her mistress the 
 unexpected visit of the gentlemen who were loaded 
 with packages. Her story must have been eloquent, 
 for little Hdlene's mamma appeared at once, followed 
 by her daughter, whose anxious face lighted up on 
 seeing De'miane. 
 
 " What is the matter?" said the mother. 
 " They have driven us away from here," answered 
 he young man ; " the police find us dangerous." 
 
 u The police ? You are dreaming ! " and De'miane 
 elated in a few words the scandal of the day before 
 ind its unfortunate result. When he came to the pink 
 lote, he surprised a smile on little Helene's face, which 
 stopped him short. 
 
 " Does it not astonish you? " said he brusquely. 
 " No ! " answered the young girl, shaking her head 
 gently, " but never mind." 
 
 He continued his story, and finished it with the 
 jcene with the hotel-keeper. 
 
 " You must dine with us," said the mamma, as soon 
 is he ended, "and then we will talk about it. Mon 
 
288 MARKOF. 
 
 Dieu ! what a misfortune ! I thought that perhaps 
 you would settle here ! My daughter would have 
 improved so much with you ! " 
 
 "And I," said the young man with regret. " I shall 
 never find anywhere an accompanist like herself ! It 
 was such a pleasure to play with her, yes, a pleasure 
 such as I had never before experienced." 
 
 Little Helne looked at him furtively in order to 
 thank him. At the announcement of this sudden 
 departure, she felt overcome and ready to burst into 
 tears without knowing why : it seemed to her that the 
 earth was failing her under her feet, and breath to her 
 lungs, that life was becoming a torture and she could 
 not explain to herself the cause of her strange wretch- 
 edness. 
 
 "Where are you going? " said the mamma. 
 
 " To Nijni." 
 
 "And from there?" 
 
 " I do not know ! Perhaps to the Caucasus ! " 
 
 " To the Caucasus ! so far ! " 
 
 Victor looked at his brother with astonishment : he 
 had never heard the Caucasus spoken of. Where did 
 he get this sudden caprice? But Demiane paid no 
 attention to him. 
 
 " What a pity ! " continued the mamma, " that I am 
 not ten years younger, I would have gone with you. I 
 adore travelling, and little Helene would have accom- 
 panied you as well at Nijni as here." 
 
 " Madame I " exclaimed De'miane, who was trans- 
 ported with delight, "it is Providence that has inspired 
 you with that idea. Come with us ! We will give 
 excellent concerts and we will make heaps of money 1 " 
 
MARK OF 289 
 
 The mamma began to laugh. The daughter blushed. 
 
 "What a joke!" said the lady, good-naturedly. 
 " You are not serious." 
 
 " I am perfectly serious. When you have had enough 
 of it, you will be quite at liberty to return here." 
 
 " What would they say about it in the town ? " 
 
 " What do they not say now ? Does that make any 
 difference to you?" 
 
 The mamma hesitated for an instant. 
 
 "What do you say about it, Helene? It is not 
 serious ? " said she, turning towards her daughter. 
 
 " I would like very much to descend the Volga, 
 mamma," she answered with her tranquil voice, but 
 turning away her head. 
 
 "Oh! Madame, come," said Victor, "we will form 
 one family; it will be a thousand times more charming, 
 and then we will also be more respectable." 
 
 Victor, as one sees, had ideas of his own about 
 respectability; but his ideas were of very little import- 
 ance in regard to what concerns us ; the lady smiled 
 with an undecided air. 
 
 "Madame, I beg of you!" said Ddmiane. "I am 
 ready to give you half of the profits; it will save us 
 from having recourse to those chance artists, whom one 
 is obliged to endure in towns, and with whom, no 
 matter what one does, one is never quits. Do you not 
 wish to come, Mademoiselle?" added he, turning to 
 Helene. 
 
 She rose and leaned against the piano, and her head 
 was very near her yesterday's bouquet, which was still 
 very fresh and full of perfume. 
 18 
 
290 M A R K O F . 
 
 " I do ! " she replied faintly, in so clear a voice that 
 they all looked at }ier, surprised at her curtness. 
 
 "Come, then ! 'Vsaid her mother .with a sigh. 
 
 " Are you in earnest? " 
 
 " No one could be more so." 
 
 " But we are going to leave this evening," Victor 
 remarked. 
 
 " Well ! we will leave together ! We will make your 
 new dress at Nijni, will we not, little one?" 
 
 IMene approved with a nod. She had become dumb 
 again since the announcement of her resolve. 
 
 " I am going to pack the trunk," said her mother, 
 " will you come ? " 
 
 " I pack so badly, mamma," said she, beseechingly. 
 
 "Let us rehearse, Mademoiselle, let us rehearse," 
 said Demiane, with eagerness. " Who knows when we 
 will have a good piano to practise on. It will do for 
 our second concert ! " 
 
 " That is right, rehearse," said the mamma, disap- 
 pearing. 
 
 Victor, alone acting as the public, placed himself as 
 well as he could on an uncomfortable chair, and a few 
 minutes later, our musicians, lost in the ardor of their 
 study, forgot the police, Madame la Gene*rale, and even 
 their proposed departure. 
 
 Towards midnight, for a boat that is not behindhand 
 on the Volga is no longer a boat, the four travellers, 
 who had not left each other, found themselves on one 
 of those superb steamboats that are so comfortably 
 furnished. They secured places in the saloons and 
 installed themselves on divans, where they were to pass 
 
MARKOP. 291 
 
 I 
 
 the night. ' Just as Demiane was shutting his eyes, 
 Victor approached him and said to him in his ear: 
 
 " Do you know the name of little. Clone's mamma?" 
 
 "TSTo, and you?" 
 
 "Neither do I; we'nfust ask Her what it is." 
 
 The lady was going to and fro, arranging her numer- 
 ous small parcels. 
 
 Ddmiane rose to his feet and approached her politely : 
 
 " I beg you to excuse me," said he, " but I have not 
 the honor of knowing your family name ? " 
 
 She began to laugh ; and Hdlene, who was already 
 stretched out on the divan, turned around to see what 
 amused her so much. 
 
 " How curious ! " said the lady. " Here we are such 
 good friends, we are travelling together, we are united 
 for some time at least, and you do not know my name ! 
 How did you speak of me then between yourselves ? " 
 
 Victor smiled. 
 
 " Little Helene's mamma," said he. 
 
 4< Do your hear, little one ? " 
 
 Helene smiled also, and her smile could be seen on 
 her sweet face, in spite of the uncertain glimmer of the 
 candle, which very feebly lighted the deserted saloon, 
 which they occupied alone. 
 
 " My name is Madame Mianof," said the mamma, as 
 she lay down to sleep in her turn. "Good-night, my 
 dear friends. A good night on the Volga, and may 
 God watch over our journey." 
 
 " Amen ! " replied the three young people, with that 
 earnestness of religious sentiment which one finds every- 
 where in Russia. 
 
292 M A R K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 DESCENDING THE VOLGA. 
 
 WHEN people have travelled together on a boat 
 for twenty-four hours, it seems as though they 
 had known each other all their lives; the sun rose the 
 next morning on the recently formed colony with as 
 little ceremony as though it had already shone on their 
 united heads for twenty years. D^miane's first im- 
 pressions, on awaking, were a little strange; first, he 
 had never before been on a steamboat, and then, he had 
 never slept with so many about him. His first glance 
 met Madame Mianofs feet; she was sleeping calmly, 
 exactly as if she were in her ugly house with columns ; 
 simply from looking at her slumber one understood 
 how very little the idea of travelling could disturb her. 
 She had the manner of a person who had passed her 
 existence on steamboat divans, and who had learned 
 how to derive the greatest possible comfort from them. 
 Demiane rose and tried to collect his thoughts; it 
 was certainly a very extraordinary thing to be sailing 
 thus towards the unknown with people whom he hardly 
 knew; but Russians are not disturbed by such unim- 
 portant facts; he ended by clearly recalling all that 
 had occurred in the last two days, and looked 
 around for his violin-case. It was within hand's 
 reach, and in a safe place ; then he was anxious about 
 his brother. Neither Victor nor little He*lne were in 
 
MARKOF. 293 
 
 the saloon ; De'miane ascended the gangway which led 
 on deck, and the first object which struck his eyes was 
 a white silk neck-handkerchief which he had seen the 
 day before, and which, for the moment, covered Made- 
 moiselle Mianofs head. She was talking with Victor, 
 and they both seemed very much engaged. 
 
 " What are you plotting there ? " said De'miane, step- 
 ping behind and surprising them. 
 
 Heldne blushed and smiled, and Victor began to 
 laugh. 
 
 " We are thinking of turning the boat into a linen- 
 shop. Mademoiselle Helene proposes to occupy the 
 leisure hours of the voyage in mending our clothing, 
 which has great need of it." 
 
 "Ah! bah!" said the young artist, indifferently, as 
 he sat down on a folding-stool, which he had been in 
 search of. "Leave such trifles alone. Fingers are 
 made to play the piano or violin ! " 
 
 44 Mamma and myself would have no dresses for a 
 long while," said Hdlene, smiling, " if I adopted your 
 principles, Monsieur De'miane ! " 
 
 " What do you think of the voyage ? " continued the 
 latter. 
 
 " I am pleased with it, ah ! yes, very much pleased ! 
 How many times have I not looked at the boats descend- 
 ing the river and asked myself if some day I should 
 not do the same ! It was my dream, Monsieur Demi- 
 ane ! I am going now towards my promised land ! " 
 
 " Really? What is the name of your promised land? " 
 
 " It is the Caucasus," said Helene, clasping her hands 
 together. "I have dreamed of the Caucasus all my 
 
294 MARK OF. 
 
 life. It seems to me that if I could see it, I should 
 die without regretting anything ! " 
 
 Demiane, who was troubled, rose and took a few steps 
 on deck. The morning wind beat against Helene's 
 white silk neck-handkerchief, and blew from time to 
 time in her eyes the little locks of brown hair which 
 curled softly on her forehead. The young girl's eyes, 
 which were turned to the south, looked as though they 
 would pierce the horizon and divine in the distance the 
 snowy peak of Kazbek. He looked at her with that 
 sort of kind pity which sensible people feel for poets. 
 
 " Where have you acquired this love for the Cau- 
 casus ? " he asked. 
 
 " In Lermontof," she replied, with some confusion ; 
 4 1 have read and re-read his verses on that beautiful 
 land, and I dream about it always. Do you not love it ? 
 would you not like to go there ? " 
 
 De*miane made a brusque movement. 
 
 44 Would you really go there if I asked you to do so ? " 
 said he, with a singular expression. 
 
 "I I will do anything you wish," said Helene, 
 with a childlike submission. 
 
 " We will go, perhaps," continued Demiane, "I have 
 thought about it for a long time." 
 
 44 You have never said anything to me about it I " ex- 
 claimed Victor, much astonished. 
 
 44 It is an idea that I had in my own mind," the young 
 artist replied, coldly. 44 1 think there ought to be some- 
 thing to do there. Artists cannot go there often it 
 is so far away." 
 
 44 It costs a great deal," observed the practical man, 
 the banker of the troupe. 
 
M A R K O F . 295 
 
 "And one can earn a great deal of money there," 
 replied Demiane, triumphantly. " Moreover, it is only 
 a visionary plan.'' 
 
 After a warm day, the night came down little by little 
 on the widened stream ; the right bank, which is high 
 and abrupt, became almost black, while the other, 
 which is low and covered with meadows, seemed still 
 to retain some of the brightness of the vanished day. 
 The silver stars began to stud the sky here and there, 
 towards the blue zenith, and a grey-pinkish fog rose 
 slowly from the horizon, obliterating the lines and con- 
 fusing the sombre masses of the distant forests. Of a 
 sudden, at a turn in the stream, the young people, who 
 were standing on the deck, uttered together a joyful 
 exclamation. 
 
 " Fireworks ! " exclaimed Demiane. 
 
 " An illumination ! " cried Helene. 
 
 "The port of Nijni-Novgorod," said the Captain, 
 as he passed behind them. 
 
 The Volga in this place is a mile and a quarter wide ; 
 the Oka, which joins it there, divides into two streams 
 at its mouth, and separates the town into two distinct 
 parts. The cliffs on the right serve as a shelter for 
 vessels of all sizes, and on the opposite side the old 
 town spreads out its girdle of crenated ramparts, its 
 many-colored towers and its churches, which are as 
 numerous as they are small and varied in their archi- 
 tecture. The falling night hid the forms and only let 
 one see the outlines of the towers and gardens on the 
 still clear western sky, but the port was a wonder. Each 
 of two thousand vessels anchored in the immense gulf 
 
296 MA UK OF. 
 
 carried a white lantern on the tops of their masts which 
 were of various heights; the signals for navigation 
 were marked out by red or green lanterns, and the 
 bridge which united the banks of the Oka, was illu- 
 minated by innumerable carriages, which formed a 
 chain of light between the two towns, which are so dif- 
 ferent in form and in appearance. 
 
 No words could describe the effect of the lanterns 
 suspended in the air on invisible masts, and which 
 seemed to change their places as the steamboat slowly 
 advanced towards the port; the combinations of these 
 aerial lights were changed every moment, charming the 
 eye without fatiguing it and making a spectacle that 
 was perhaps unequalled in the whole world. The near 
 approach of the annual fair occasioned the large num- 
 ber of vessels, some of which had come from the most 
 distant eastern tributaries of the Volga, and brought 
 with them Tartars who were half civilized. 
 
 Amid a hundred other ships and with many steam- 
 whistles, which the echoes of the banks repeated in the 
 distance, the boat made itself a passage and landed near 
 the bridge of the Oka. Our friends disembarked and 
 found themselves in the centre of a bustling crowd, of 
 many diverse elements, in which no single man was 
 dressed like another, and where they heard all the 
 languages of the East spoken, and even Russ ! 
 
 " It is a dream ! " said little Helene, clinging to 
 Victor's coat-sleeve. " It is like a tale of the Arabian 
 nights." 
 
 " Take care of the Forty Thieves," said Madame 
 Mianof, in French; "for you can count them by thous- 
 ands here." 
 
MARKOF. 297 
 
 From their h8tel, which overlooked the suburb where 
 the fair is held, the travellers had the strange spectacle 
 of that vast, absolutely black space, for they never 
 light it in any way. Crowning the stream and the 
 river which were illuminated with lights, the silence of 
 tliis town, which is dead at night, and so noisy and 
 bustling in the day, contrasted singularly with the 
 animation of Nijni properly speaking, which at that 
 season is scarcely ever still except an hour or two every 
 night, just before the sun rises. They went to bed and 
 their slumbers were cradled by the distant sounds of 
 the strangest instruments. 
 
 The first concert, which was promptly arranged, was 
 not a particularly brilliant one ; our friends who were 
 entirely inexperienced in the art of advertising, thought 
 it was sufficient to present their letters of introduction 
 to the enlightened amateurs of the town. The latter 
 gave them their aid, but the season was not a very 
 favorable one, people were only interested in the 
 approaching fair, and their receipts were small. 
 
 " You should have addressed yourselves to the large 
 merchants," said one of those who had helped them in 
 their unsuccessful concert ; " they are rich, and if you 
 could have said something to them which would have 
 flattered their patriotism, you would have been sure of 
 success. They are tired of German musicians; you 
 ought to have made them understand that you are real 
 Russians " 
 
 " Real Russians ! " exclaimed Victor, " indeed we 
 are ! even to the violin, which is Russian ! " 
 
 The amateur made them tell him the story of the 
 violin. 
 
298 MARK OF. 
 
 " Well," said he, " your affair is settled. Put into 
 your advertisement that Monsieur Markof will play on 
 a Russian violin, which was made in Moscow by his 
 brother Victor Markof, and then go this very evening 
 to the Moskovski-Traktir,* where you must play some- 
 thing on the violin, with the proprietor's consent, who 
 will be delighted, and you will have a full house on 
 Sunday." 
 
 All this did not please De'miane very much, who 
 disliked trickery. 
 
 " I am not good at beating the big drum," said he ; 
 " I am good for playing anything they may wish, but to 
 make an advertisement of myself with what I consider 
 as sacred " 
 
 " You must not give concerts in the provinces then," 
 said the amateur, kindly. 
 
 " I will beat the big drum," exclaimed Victor, with 
 unusual vivacity ; " I must be good at something ! 
 You will play, Demiane, and I will have the advertise- 
 ments printed ; you can trust yourself to me ! " 
 
 " Don 't forget the newspapers," said the amateur. 
 
 " All that will belong to my department ; and you, 
 my king's son, will only be obliged to present yourself 
 before the public, and to charm its soul." 
 
 Therefore, in one day, Victor, who was always 
 very active, became amazingly shrewd. This meta- 
 morphosis, which is less astonishing in a Russian, than 
 in any other, on account of the instinctive prudence 
 and the commercial spirit which is innate in those of 
 his nation, had been in readiness for a long time in 
 
 * .Restaurant of Moscow. 
 
M A R K O F . 299 
 
 advance, and had only been delayed from the want of 
 favorable circumstances. 
 
 Victor had for a long while meditated about the r61e 
 he would be called upon to play with his brother ; he 
 had realized the latter's indifference to external things. 
 
 Demiane knew nothing about the washerwoman's 
 bills ; but on the other hand, when he was obliged to 
 pay her, he exacted a receipt from her, which at first 
 had alarmed the poor woman, who was ignorant of the 
 art of writing, and was convinced they would send her 
 to prison on account of the piece of paper, signed with 
 a cross. Victor had said to himself that all his life 
 henceforth should be devoted to visiting journalists, 
 treating with the owners of concert-rooms, hunting up 
 artists, etc ; and the time seemed propitious for him to 
 enter upon his new career. 
 
 Towards eight o'clock in the evening, the two 
 brothers entered the Moskovski-Traktir, a superb res- 
 taurant, where the merchant aristocracy meet. There 
 is scarcely any nobility at Nijni : the few neighboring 
 land-owners who try to pass the winter there, remain 
 under their tents and bear themselves with dignity. 
 The true population of the city, excepting the employe's 
 of the government who do not so much despise the mer- 
 chants with whom they have business every day, is 
 composed of the great chiefs of commerce. They are 
 men who wear a caftan of dark blue cloth, a fur cap, 
 and knit gloves in winter, and who in their small 
 shops in the bazaar, when the fair is opened, turn over 
 millions of chests of tea, whole caravans of precious 
 furs, tons of Siberian golden ingots and bushels of 
 
300 MARK OF. 
 
 pearls. These people realize their commercial, as well 
 as their personal worth, and wish to be treated with 
 proper consideration on account of it. They know that 
 their retirement from business, should they take a fancy 
 to wind up their affairs, would be a disaster to their 
 country. Without ambition, for they wish neither 
 rank nor brilliant positions, they limit themselves to 
 owning everything: railways, manufactories, canals, 
 mines and capital ; and go tranquilly through the 
 streets of their wooden city, bowing to each other half- 
 way down to the ground when they meet, and keeping 
 the strictest discipline in their families. 
 
 A notable part of this Slite of the population is 
 gathered every evening at the Traktir to take tea. 
 Some dine there the widowers and the bachelors; 
 the married men frequent it between their three o'clock 
 dinner, and their nine o'clock supper. There, they 
 arrange their business, make rendezvous, and some- 
 times they even change the prices of merchandise, and 
 during this time, the waiters, who are agile and quiet, 
 run from one table to another, in black velvet trousers, 
 which are half covered by a shirt of red cotton material 
 for the head waiters, and white ones bordered with red 
 for the others ; their hands are clean, and they serve 
 without an apron or napkin. Their steps cannot be 
 heard on the thick carpet that covers the floor ; and a 
 kind of solitude is assured to each person by the 
 arrangement of the tables, which are separated by parti- 
 tions as high as one's shoulder, and two hundred people 
 take their repasts and arrange their business without 
 making any more noise than a flock of partridges. 
 
M A R K O F . 301 
 
 From time to time an inspector who is placed at the 
 end of the handsomest room, judges when the moment 
 is propitious for regaling the guests with a little music, 
 and pulls a small string. A magnificent organ eighteen 
 or twenty feet high, then bursts forth with a wonderful 
 peal and plays the most brilliant pieces from the most 
 celebrated operas, and above all, "Le vie pour le Tsar," 
 which is as popular in Russia, as La Muette was for a 
 long time in France. 
 
 Our friends began by ordering some choice viands 
 among the most expensive dishes and paid for them 
 at once, according to the custom. Then Victor care- 
 lessly laid on the table the violin case, which was quite 
 new and shining, and which attracted the attention 
 of his neighbors. After a few moments, a large man, 
 clad in the finest cloth, which was cut in a long caftan, 
 after the antique fashion of the merchants, approached 
 the young men and sat down near them. 
 
 " Permit me to ask you," said he, "if there is a violin 
 in that case?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Victor, seizing the opportunity by the 
 horns, "and a good violin, a Russian violin, the first 
 that has been made in Russia, and out of Russian wood 
 by a Russian ! " 
 
 " Do you play it ? " said the merchant without sus- 
 pecting the humiliation he was inflicting on Ddmiane 
 by this simple question. Every individual who attains 
 celebrity, even in a small way, imagines at once that 
 his name and face are known throughout the universe, 
 and he feels a bitter disappointment every time he 
 perceives how much of the universe has remained a 
 stranger to his renown. 
 
302 M ARKOF. . 
 
 " It is my brother who plays," said Victor, proudly 
 pointing to Demiane. " A Russian artist also ; yes, 
 gentlemen," said the hunchback, addressing himself 
 to the crowd which had formed itself by degrees around 
 him ; " we wish nothing except what is national ! For 
 too long a time have we sought in foreign countries our 
 instruments, our artists and our professors ; Russia pos- 
 sesses all that she needs in herself, and we do not wish 
 to borrow anything more from people who, after all, are 
 no better than ourselves." 
 
 "Was it you who gave a concert the other evening?" 
 said a new-comer who had Observed De*miane's hand- 
 some face on the threshhold of the Concert-hall. 
 
 "It was I," replied our friend, who was rather 
 ashamed of the flourishing speech to which his brother 
 had just given utterance. 
 
 "You played some music that was not Russian?" 
 observed the critic. 
 
 "It was for the Germans who are here," replied 
 Victor at once. " You are not in need of Germans in 
 Nijni! You are not in need of anything, moreover; 
 your city at this moment, is the rendezvous of the whole 
 world." . 
 
 A murmur of applause ran through the ranks of the 
 audience, which had now become crowded. 
 
 "Imagine," continued the orator, "that they have 
 told us a falsehood ! It was declared to us that you 
 merchants in Nijni, did not love music ! " 
 
 " How very stupid ! " said a respectable person, with 
 a white beard ; " why then should we have that great 
 organ there ? " 
 
M A R K O F ' . 303 
 
 " Of course, it is stupid," continued Victor unmoved, 
 44 but they told us so, and we believed it, and so when 
 we learned the truth, we came here to ask your help. 
 Is it possible that you would refuse to aid a Russian 
 artist to procure himself a Russian public ? We wish 
 to give a second concert, and this time we will play 
 only national music ; we should never have done any- 
 thing else ! " 
 
 The affair thus begun could not fail to succeed ; all 
 the merchants who were present offered their help in 
 various ways, and De"miane in order to reward them for 
 their good will, showed the"m the famous Russian violin 
 and played them a brilliant improvisation on popular 
 themes, which delighted everybody. 
 
 On returning 'to their hotel near ten o'clock, they 
 hastened to knock at Madame Mianof s door, to inform 
 her of their success ; little Helene went on tip-toe to 
 open it for them. Her mother was sleepy and they 
 must not disturb her. A conference took place in the 
 half-lighted corridor, and was promptly concluded by 
 these words that issued from the room in a doleful 
 tone: 
 
 44 Hlne, come and scratch my back, I can't go to 
 sleep without it." 
 
 44 Directly, mamma," replied the young girl. 44 When 
 shall we rehearse ? " she asked Ddmiane. 
 
 44 To-morrow at one o'clock, in the large room of the 
 town-hall. Is your mamma in the habit of having her 
 back scratched ? " 
 
 44 She never goes to sleep without it," said Hdlcne, 
 disappearing, at another order from her mamma, which 
 was less doleful and more imperative. 
 
304 M A R K O F . 
 
 Victor and De*miane returned to their room, and the 
 former on the way there expressed this irreverent reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 " I am not astonished that little HdlSne should have 
 agile fingers; if she has passed her life in scratching 
 her mother's back, they must indeed have gained some 
 flexibility." 
 
 " Bah ! " said De*miane, " there are a great many per- 
 sons who have the soles of their feet scratched in order 
 to go to sleep ! " 
 
 Victor shivered all over, as though they were the 
 soles of his own feet that were being scratched, and 
 then shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Well, all the same, we have a concert on hand that 
 begins well ! " said he. " Who would have said that I 
 had the making of an orator in me ? " 
 
 De*maine smiled condescendingly. He was nothing 
 loth to have a success, provided he was not obliged to 
 prepare the way for it. He was a dilettante in pride. 
 
MARKOF. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 FARTHER STILL! 
 
 TVHE Russian concert succeeded beyond their hopes. 
 The journals had talked about it, the merchants 
 had endorsed it, and the wives of these gentlemen, 
 who never leave their domestic hearth, had obtained 
 )ermission to make use of the tickets their husbands 
 >ought, which occasioned an unusual activity in the 
 own. Demiane had the pleasure, which was probably 
 are, of seeing before him a feminine audience entirely 
 ;omposed of douchagre'ikas in silks of the most bril- 
 iant colors, with heads surmounted with kerchiefs, 
 >ne end of which hung down their backs, while the 
 wo others, folded closely together under their chins, 
 vere joined on their breasts. And it must not be sup- 
 >osed that all these good souls, who were torn from the 
 obscurity of their homes, did not know how to appre- 
 ;iate the young artist's talent ! More than one among 
 hem, in listening to him, recalled the time when as a 
 ^oung girl, she had listened to the nightingales answer- 
 ng each other in her parents' garden. The aspirations 
 f their youth returned to their minds, and if their 
 syes were moist with tears, it was not perhaps, only on 
 iccount of a nervousness produced by the trembling of 
 lis bow on the strings. In the simple themes of the 
 opular songs a melancholy poetry is hidden, which can 
 )e appreciated by those alone who have lived a contem- 
 19 
 
306 HEREOF. 
 
 plative life in the fields or in the old Russian home- 
 steads, and who have loved it and felt its old-time 
 beauty. 
 
 Little Helene, who was attired for the occasion in a 
 plain, white muslin, with her hair divided in two braids 
 which fell on her shoulders, which were modestly cov- 
 ered with a simple thin muslin fichu, received an ova- 
 tion. She was so simple, so childlike in manner, that 
 all the mothers in the audience were touched with pity 
 for her. 
 
 " So young, and already earning her living ! " said 
 these good souls to themselves. 
 
 Before the day was over, she found her room filled 
 with presents of all kinds ; the matrons who had been 
 touched by her grace and her seriousness, sent her all 
 manner of things : pieces of stuffs, old-fashioned jewels, 
 pieces of fine, white linen, to make underclothing, a 
 box of oranges, and a fur pelisse ; so much in fact that 
 she was obliged to buy a trunk. 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur Markof," said she, when D^miane 
 went to say good-morning to her, " I owe all this to you, 
 I shall never be able to pay the debt ! " 
 
 With a very noble wave of the hand the artist dis- 
 claimed any expectation of gratitude, and only smiled; 
 decidedly the little girl was very charming. He did 
 not know whether she were pretty or not to have 
 been sure of that he would have been obliged to have 
 looked at her more attentively than he had yet done ; 
 but she had an appreciation of the proprieties of life 
 which rendered living in common with her easy and 
 even agreeable. Madame Mianof gave but little 
 
MARK OF. 307 
 
 trouble ; with tea, cigarettes and cards, they were sure 
 to have perfect peace with her ; she did not even exact 
 that they should play cards with her ; in her calm, 
 sleepy state she preferred to play patience, which leaves 
 the mind free to stop its calculations when the combi- 
 nations become too exciting. People are not liable to 
 disease of the heart from playing patience. 
 
 Victor was delighted. The happy success of this en- 
 terprise seemed to promise him a series of concerts in 
 the future which would be finer each than the other, 
 and by which Ddmiaiie would become illustrious and 
 rich. They had, moreover, resolved together to send 
 Father Kouzma a little souvenir in the form of some 
 money, and this resolution gave them a calm joy which, 
 in spite of what may be said to the contrary, accom- 
 panies generous thoughts. The two brothers vaguely 
 felt that from the moment their sister held the purse- 
 strings, their father could not roll in gold. So, Mon- 
 sieur Roussof was commissioned, the next day, to remit 
 discreetly to the priest the relatively large sum which 
 his sons sent to him ; it was done in a way to satisfy 
 everyone, for without having said anything about it, 
 they well understood that the gift was to be sent and 
 accepted in silence, under the penalty of immediately 
 losing its value. 
 
 The letter which bore the souvenir from Kouzma's 
 children to the paternal home, crossed one written by 
 Monsieur Roussof, which brought surprising news to 
 the young men. The physician of the baths at Piati- 
 gorsk having died suddenly, his place had been offered 
 to Valerien Moutine, and after some hesitation, the 
 
308 MARKOF. 
 
 young physician had accepted it. Without doubt, it 
 was hard to be thus banished from home for several 
 years, but the salary offered was considerable, and in 
 the end the wealth which the presence of rich invalids 
 brings to watering places, would permit the young 
 couple to realize in a short time, a competency which 
 would be very like a fortune. They had, therefore, 
 
 decided to leave M , and when Monsieur Roussof 
 
 wrote they were already half way on their journey. 
 
 D^miane read the letter and became thoughtful. 
 Superstitious as is almost every one, he saw in this 
 coincidence of departures for the Caucasus, a myster- 
 ious force which urged him also towards the mountains 
 of the South. 
 
 " Madame Moutine is going to Piatigorsk," said he to 
 Victor when the latter returned from his morning 
 errands. 
 
 The poor fellow's arms fell. He seldom saw the idol of 
 his } 7 outh, but she was not so far away and it seemed to 
 him that it was possible to see her should he wish to do 
 so very much ; but to the Caucasus ! in a distant coun- 
 try ! The tears came to his eyes at the thought. 
 
 " Would you have us go and see her ? " said Ddmiane 
 half smiling. His brother looked at him with astonish- 
 ment. He had long ago quite forgotten the Princess 
 Redine's letter and could not tind any cause whatever 
 for this mention of the Caucasus to which the artist 
 now referred for the second time. 
 
 ' " So far ? " said he faintly, as though he were combat- 
 ing within himself the desire of going to join Groucha 
 beyond the Caspian sea. 
 
M A II K O F . 30 
 
 " Why not ? She goes there, and many others as 
 (well! We will not be the first explorers of a virgin 
 I country," said Ddmiane, with his eyes cast down, and 
 j play ing with the envelope of the letter. " We will give 
 another concert at Saratof, another at Astrakhan, per- 
 haps, if the sturgeon fishermen are fond of music 
 and we will remain half the summer at Piatigorsk. I 
 am sure there is a good orchestra there ; only think ! it 
 is the summer residence of the Grand Duke, the Gov- 
 ernor General of the Caucasus! There is a mine of 
 gold in that place." 
 
 Victor was much surprised at hearing his brother 
 talk from this practical point of view, he who ordinarily 
 occupied himself so little with business, but his sur- 
 prises never lasted very long, thanks to his unconscious 
 philosophy, which made him accept all accomplished 
 facts with resignation. 
 
 " Then, you wish to go to Piatigorsk? " 
 
 Demiane ceased playing with the envelope ; his hand, 
 which rested on the edge of the table, trembled slightly 
 and then remained motionless. He looked within him- 
 self and decided his life. They tell us that we some- 
 times hold our destiny in our own hands, and that at 
 certain hours it belongs to ourselves to choose our path. 
 It was true at this moment with regard to the young 
 artist, and he felt it, not confusedly, as it sometimes 
 happens, but very clearly. He knew that in approach- 
 ing the Princess, he was breaking with his past life ; he 
 had realized that this woman, whatever her real feel 
 ings might be, had manifested no ordinary interest in 
 him ; he said to himself that perhaps she had forgotten 
 him ; but he was sure of not being indifferent to her 
 
310 MARKOF. 
 
 on the day when she should see him again. Should he 
 throw himself headlong into a new passion or remain 
 tranquilly in the beaten track, to wait till chance might 
 come and draw him from it? De*miane had in himself 
 as much of the calculator as of the poet, and the two 
 roads seemed equally dangerous : his twenty years, the 
 memory of the Princess' eyes, of her magical voice, of 
 all her bewildering and fascinating person, gained the 
 upper hand, and in a firm voice, he said : 
 
 " I wish to go to Piatigorsk." 
 
 " It is an excellent idea ! " exclaimed Victor. " For 
 my part " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and, in quite a different tone, 
 said: 
 
 " What will we do with little H&ene ? " 
 
 " If she will come with us as far as Saratof, I shall 
 be very glad; it is a town full of enthusiastic musi- 
 cians; there must be a good harvest to glean there. 
 After that, she will be free to return to her home." 
 
 " Or to come with us ? " suggested Victor, timidly. 
 
 He was attached to the young girl; the idea of 
 leaving her so soon made him sad. 
 
 " Or else to come with us ! " replied Demiane, indif- 
 ferently. " She accompanies very well, and she is not 
 in the least in the way. It is just as though we were 
 still alone." 
 
 " Only our socks have no more holes in them," re- 
 marked Victor, " and that is certainly something." 
 
 " Is it she who mends them ? " 
 
 " You do not suppose it is her mamma?" 
 
 The two brothers laughed, and thus the journey to 
 Piatigorsk was decided upon. 
 
MARKOF. 311 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 TRIBULATIONS. 
 
 y u ^ink me in Moscow, occu- 
 pied in making violins or even altos, and 
 further, in my leisure moments, that I am perfecting 
 Petit-Gris' education ? It is a mistake ! I dwell on the 
 banks of the Don, and I have found my pastures and 
 my buffaloes again, but not my steward, for the good 
 man is dead, and behold me, at last the proprietor of 
 the property which my poor dear uncle may God 
 Vave pity on his soul ! believes me to be in possession 
 of since the day of his death. I have said to myself 
 more than once that the ancients, who discovered Lethe, 
 were not so stupid after all ; if in the other world one 
 remembers what one has desired during one's life time, 
 and if one can see the way in which others conduct 
 themselves in regard to one's last wishes, one must get 
 into a very bad temper; and then what is to be done 
 with the eternal delights of Paiadise ? But it is not in 
 order to discuss this question that I have taken up my 
 pen, but it is to tell you of my annoyance. 
 
 " Yes, my friends, I am the most annoyed man on the 
 face of the globe, and the cause of my annoyance is 
 sixteen years old, and has blonde hair which is always 
 in a tangle blue eyes, which are always full of tears, 
 and red hands and bare feet, which walk in the dust 
 and seem to ridicule my boots most bitterly. 
 
312 MARK OF. 
 
 "Imagine that my old thief of a steward had a 
 daughter. I think I have entertained you before with 
 an account of this original person, who built himself a 
 cathedral with my cheese and who nourished me parsi- 
 moniously with the waste bits of his work, and I think 
 I even told you that he had some sort of child or other. 
 This daughter is the young lady described above, whom 
 I found on coming here tuned to the highest diapason 
 and ready to poniard me. The old rogue had left this 
 innocent with the idea that my property belonged to 
 her. That he developed this thought, I do not suppose ; 
 it had its birth in Mademoiselle Mouza's odd brain, and 
 he did nothing to drive it out, perhaps he never knew 
 anything about it. The worthy man died suddenly the 
 other day, from drinking too much I have been told, 
 and the law, which is slow in all countries, and par- 
 ticularly so on the fortunate banks of the Don, came in 
 the person of its officers and put seals on what belongs 
 to me. 
 
 " 4 Seals ? ' exclaimed Mouza, ' what are they ? I do 
 not want any of them ! ' 
 
 "They put them on, however, and as one might 
 expect, gave them into the keeping of my steward's 
 daughter. What might equally have been expected 
 was, that my young savage, who had never heard tape 
 or sealing-wax spoken of in all her life, lost no time in 
 removing all the little strings which prevented her 
 acting as she pleased in her house. 
 
 " Pray note well, my friends, that this house was 
 undoubtedly hers, no one during her father's life time 
 having suggested the contrary to her. 
 
M A R K O F . 313 
 
 " Thereupon I arrived, and I found the young person 
 on the threshold, and she welcomed me with a : c What 
 have you come here for ? ' which was not in the least 
 pleasing. 
 
 " 4 1 come,' said I to her, * to take possession of my 
 domain.' 
 
 " She laughed in my face and said to me : 
 
 " 4 You shall not enter.' 
 
 "I wished to put her aside, when she drew out a 
 very pretty knife and handled it so dexterously that 
 she cut as nicely as possible a great gash in the palm of 
 her hand. The knife fell, and she began to cry; I 
 wished to approach her and received a hard blow from 
 her fist on my nose, which I still feel when I shut my 
 eyes. 
 
 "However, we had entered, which was something 
 gained, and my pretty enemy's maid, who was better 
 informed with regard to the situation, had dragged my 
 small valise into the house. I was in the heart of the 
 place, but the question was, how to remain there ? 
 
 " Mouza sat down in a corner, looking at me with a 
 gloomy air, while I was rummaging a little every- 
 where. The breaking of the seals amused me greatly; 
 and, thanks to my rhetoric, I proved to the authorities 
 that if the little one had acted without discernment, 
 they had not evinced much more in placing them in the 
 keeping of a person as little capable of protecting 
 them as a young unchained monkey; and as I made no 
 appeal, the affair was easily arranged. 
 
 " But I had only begun my apprenticeship. When I 
 asked Mademoiselle Mouza what she was going to do, 
 she looked at me alarmed. 
 
314 MARK OF. 
 
 " ' Remain here,' she replied. 
 
 444 Always?' 
 
 44 4 Always.' 
 
 44 4 Are you not going away soon ? ' 
 
 44 1 had less intention of leaving because my prop- 
 erty is an excellent one and in good condition. I 
 suspect Mademoiselle Mouza's father of having placed 
 on his daughter's head at least thirty thousand roubles, 
 while at the same time he was refusing himself nothing. 
 
 44 The old man had a notary a lawyer in a word, a 
 man of business, whose paw he had very well greased 
 during his lifetime, and who takes care not to say more 
 than is necessary. I sent for him in order to escape 
 from this dilemma. He told me that Mouza had enough 
 to live on from her mother's property her mother 
 was a peasant and that she could go wherever she 
 pleased. She has no relations, no friends, and no 
 acquaintances whatever. 
 
 44 4 Will you take her away with you,' said I to the 
 notary. 
 
 444 1 ask nothing better,' he replied, winking his 
 mind's eye, 4 my wife will take charge of her, and I will 
 look after her fortune.' 
 
 44 But when it came to a question of leaving, Mouza 
 clung to the door, declaring she would rather die than 
 leave the old house. 
 
 44 4 Let her remain,' said I to the notary, who did not 
 seem pleased. Mouza threw me a look that was half- 
 sullen, half-grateful. 
 
 44 The idea that I am the master will doubtless enter 
 her head some day; in the meanwhile her maid does 
 
MARKOF. 315 
 
 my house-keeping, for you will easily understand that 
 I have not brought any servants with me. 
 
 " Mouza occupies the left wing and I the right ; we 
 have got as far as eating together, thanks to the maid's 
 persuasions, who did not wish to cook two different 
 meals and who won her cause and I ask myself how 
 long this is going to last? 
 
 44 This, my dear friends, is how I am situated at 
 present, and I would much like to see you in my place ! 
 Write me what you would do if you were in a similar 
 predicament; not that I expect the least help, your 
 experience of life not being superior to my own ; but 
 the stupid tilings you will tell me, will perhaps throw 
 some light on my mind. At all events I cordially 
 clasp your hands. 
 
 44 Your friend, 
 
 ANDRE LADOF. 
 
 44 P. S. I forgot to tell you that from henceforth, 
 my wants being taken into consideration, I shall be as 
 rich as Cro3sus. If, in your travels, you can come and 
 make me a visit, I hope by that time that, through 
 some miracle of our excellent Providence, I shall be 
 delivered from my bare-footed kobold." 
 
 The perusal of this letter made De'miane nearly die 
 with laughter. The thought of seeing his friend Andre*, 
 who was so positive, so skeptical and so philosophical, 
 at war with this little girl who was as intangible as a 
 will-of-the-wisp, seemed to him extremely comical. 
 
 Victor, who was less given to raillery, thought Ladof 
 was very much to be pitied. Madame Mianof was 
 
316 MARK OF. 
 
 rather indifferent to this story, as it did not concern 
 her directly. However, she played several games of 
 patience in order to discover whether Ladof would get 
 rid of his domestic imp, and the cards being consulted 
 having answered "no" as many times as "yes," she 
 ceased to question fate in regard to a thing that was so 
 little worthy of interest. 
 
 Little Helene took the matter differently. 
 
 " The poor child," said she. " I understand that her 
 mind must be all upset ! Her father was very culpable 
 not to have given her more proper notions about the 
 future which was in store for her." 
 
 " It was, you see, because he did not expect to die so 
 suddenly," said Victor with a naive td which provoked 
 the mirth of all present. 
 
 "She must be dreadfully unhappy!" continued 
 Helene, folding her little hands over the sock she 
 was mending; "she has lost everything at once: her 
 father and her property, since she thinks it belongs to 
 her, the loves of her whole life it is a complete des- 
 truction of all that surrounds her, nothing is left her 
 but ruins! I pity her very much very much!" she 
 repeated, as she shook her head and took up her work 
 again. 
 
 " You reason like a little woman, Mademoiselle 
 Helene," said Victor; " where did you learn all that?'* 
 
 She smiled and shook her head again. Since her 
 departure from Jaroslav, she had not been so sad, but 
 perhaps more solemn. A new responsibility had 
 entered into her life, since she had become the accom- 
 panist of De'miane's concerts. Little H61Sne had one 
 
M A II K O F . 317 
 
 of those souls to which every thing is serious, and who 
 never look upon any duty whatever, without a sort of 
 alarm at not being able to perform it properly. 
 
 "We leave to-morrow, do we not?" said she to 
 De'miane, who was looking vacantly out of the window. 
 
 Victor arranged all the details of their life, but she 
 always addressed herself to Dlmiane, without thinking 
 that she did so. 
 
 " To-morrow ? Yes. Have you decided to come 
 with us?" 
 
 Helene looked at her mother, then at the sock she 
 was mending, and then at Demiane again. 
 
 "If it will not incommode you," said she hesita- 
 tingly. 
 
 " As far "as the Caucasus ? Think well about it, it 
 will be for the whole season." 
 
 " If it will not incommode you," she repeated, in a 
 sad and submissive tone. 
 
 " Incommode me ! There can be no possibility of it. 
 I have repeatedly told you that I shall never have such 
 an accompanist as yourself. It depends entirely on 
 you." 
 
 " Let us go there, Hdlene," said Madame Mianof, as 
 she shuffled her cards, which would not mix properly. 
 
 This conversation had taken place at Saratof where 
 our friends had passed a week in a musical orgie, of 
 which the amateurs of the place were not yet weary ; 
 but the artists felt a real need of rest after this excess 
 of harmony. It was the place where they would be 
 obliged to separate, if they were not positively to take 
 the route together for the Caucasus. 
 
318 M A R K O F . 
 
 " As you wish, mamma," replied the young girl, as 
 she busied herself in mending a very small hole in the 
 seam of the sock. 
 
 " Then, Victor, go and secure four places," said 
 Ddmiane, turning to his brother ; " the boat leaves to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 " All aboard, travellers for the Caucasus ! " cried 
 Victor, waving his hat triumphantly above his head. 
 
 Since the feminine element had been added to their 
 society he was wonderfully happy. Little Heltjne re- 
 minded him of Madame Moutine, he kept constantly 
 saying, in order to explain his delight. To tell the 
 truth, there did not exist the least resemblance between 
 the two young women : Groucha was tall and imposing ; 
 Helene was short and slender ; the former's face was 
 round, a little flat, and remarkable for unusual fairness 
 of complexion ; the latter's was oval, with a clear olive 
 paleness ; and they differed in everything else, and yet 
 Victor insisted on proclaiming their resemblance. He 
 was right on one point, and that was something which 
 the others could not see : The sweet gentleness in the 
 two young women's eyes, the tender compassion of 
 their look, the kindness of their smile, and a great 
 wealth of patience and of resignation, gave to both of 
 them a similar expression ; it was not their faces that 
 resembled each other, but their souls. 
 
 When the evening came D^miane went to take a turn 
 in the Assemble e de la Noblesse, where a soire'e was 
 given; he wished to say good-bye generally to all 
 those who had shown him kindness during his sojourn 
 at Saratof. The ladies and Victor remained at home 
 
MARKOF. 319 
 
 in order to make the preparations for their journey. 
 Just as the latter was going to close the trunk which 
 contained their effects, he saw Helene enter the room 
 with her arms full of underwear. She looked embar- 
 rassed and her voice was unsteady. 
 
 " Monsieur Victor," said she, " I want to ask you 
 something." 
 
 " I am at your service, Mademoiselle Helene." 
 
 " I want you to put this in your brother's trunk." 
 
 " We have only one," answered Victor, naively. 
 
 " I would like him to use these shirts which are here. 
 But you must tell him that it was you who had them 
 made for him ! " 
 
 Victor examined the underwear, which the young 
 girl had laid on the table near the light. 
 
 " What magnificent linen ! " said he, with astonish- 
 ment. " It is as fine as cambric ! What does this all 
 mean ? " 
 
 "Well, you see," said she, overcoming her embar- 
 rassment, " a lady at Nijni gave me a piece of linen to 
 make me some underwear, but I have no need of any, 
 and then it is too handsome for me ! While a young 
 man, an artist, can never be too well dressed ; so I had 
 a dozen shirts made here ; they work very well at Sar- 
 atof. I think they will fit him very nicely." 
 
 " How can you know that?" 
 
 "I took a pattern when I was mending the under- 
 wear," stammered Helene, who was as ashamed as if 
 she had been caught in the act of theft, " and I sup- 
 pose these will not fit any the worse ? " 
 
 Victor looked at the young girl, who shunned his 
 
320 MARK OF. 
 
 eyes ; then suddenly he caught her by the shoulders 
 and kissed her heartily on each cheek without her 
 trying to repel him. 
 
 " O ! my sister Helene," said he in a voice full of 
 emotion, " we love our De'miane well, do we not? We 
 are ready to make every sacrifice for him in order that 
 he may be happy ? " 
 
 She made an affirmative sign with her head, and two 
 burning tears which she could not restrain ran down on 
 her hands, which Victor had grasped. 
 
 "You love him as much as I do," continued the 
 young man, who was seeking eagerly on the young 
 girl's face what she was endeavoring in vain to hide ; 
 "and I have loved him from his cradle You play 
 with him, and for him, as you play for no other ; I have 
 heard you accompany amateurs, and it is not in the 
 same way ! He is a god in your eyes, is he not, my 
 sister Hel&ne ? You would like to tear your heart from 
 your breast and put it under his feet, to keep him 
 warm when he goes out in the snow? You love him 
 both as your child, and as your master, enough to for- 
 give him for never having looked at you, for not 
 knowing when you are present, and for not suspecting 
 that you love him? " 
 
 She nodded her head forcibly, and her tears fell 
 faster and hotter. 
 
 "I know very well how people love," continued 
 Victor, who was suddenly enlightened with regard to 
 what was taking place in his heart by the pain he felt ; 
 " but I am only a poor hunchback, and I have no right 
 to love. We will both love him, will we not, sister 
 
MARKOF. 321 
 
 Hlene, and when he is unhappy, we will be the ones 
 who will console him, who will heal the pain that others 
 may inflict upon him ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Helene, in a low voice; then, freeing 
 herself quickly, she hid her head on Victor's shoulder, 
 who gently caressed her stray locks of hair. 
 
 " It is agreed," said he, when after a second she 
 raised her head and wiped her eyes. " I will tell him, 
 it was I who had the shirts made for him." 
 
 "I beg you to do so," she murmured, with the most 
 touching look. 
 
 " And he will not know what you have done for him ; 
 that is right ! that is the way to love." 
 20 
 
322 M A R K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 CLEOPATRE'S PRINCIPLES. 
 
 fTTHE music was playing in the garden of the Bathing 
 JL Establishment at Piatigorsk, and those of the 
 invalids whose health permitted them to walk about, 
 were enjoying the beauty of the afternoon. The blue 
 shadows of the great mountains descended on all sides 
 into the valleys, where the sun had thrown its beams 
 even into the beds of the streams, and their coolness 
 refreshed both plants and men, after the heat of a July 
 day. 
 
 Though one may be in the Caucasus, in one of the 
 most beautiful countries, a hundred leagues away from 
 the West and from the life of the world, a watering 
 place is never anything but a watering place. People 
 wear the same costumes there, and bring with them 
 the same vices, and carry thence the same impressions, 
 that they would from any watering place in France or 
 in Germany. What does it matter after all that the 
 delicate faces of the Tcheremesses, with their black 
 mustaches and gazelle-like eyes, should have replaced 
 the flat visages of the kellners or the pomade-covered 
 heads of garfons? Who looks at the faces of these 
 docile objects of common necessity, and who looks at 
 the landscape, after the first two days, when it is 
 agreed that every one should be enthusiastic about 
 nature ? 
 
M A R K O F . 323 
 
 And, apropos, people are unaware, perhaps, how very 
 dangerous it is not to be enthusiastic about nature at 
 the hours and on the days when it is proper to be so. 
 Evil be to the person who, preoccupied with some 
 sorrow, some physical or moral suffering, neglects to 
 celebrate the splendor of the stars of night or the 
 charms of the forests, when others think it is right to 
 be enraptured with them. The unfortunate man and 
 poet who, with liberal hands, should have poured the 
 overflow of his soul into his pictures, into his music, or 
 into his poems, would be accused of having a cold heart, 
 of remaining indifferent to the beauties of nature, and 
 of being apparently enthusiastic through a frightful 
 duplicity only, and, to use a word of Parisian slang, of 
 "doing the chic" which all are aware is the utmost 
 degree of ignominy. 
 
 The Princess Rcdine, on the first day of her arrival, 
 and even on the next day, had sung the obligatory 
 hymn to the old mountains ; this formality when accom- 
 plished set her mind quite free, and she at once organ- 
 ized her household on the most proper footing. She 
 lived in a beautiful villa, ornamented with sloping 
 gardens, with rocks, springs, trees, lawns, and whatever 
 constitutes an aristocratic dwelling. She gave good 
 dinners three or four times a week, showed herself very- 
 severe on the subject of women, and only admitted to 
 her house those distinguished for virtues, which were 
 proved either by their age, or their ugliness, or else by 
 an insignificance which sheltered them from all sus- 
 picion. In the way of men, she received almost every 
 one, for the very simple reason that it is easy, by a 
 
324 M A R K O F . 
 
 thousand pretexts, not to receive a man any longer, 
 whom one does not wish to see, whereas with women, 
 one makes for oneself many bitter enmities by adopting 
 that style of behavior. The Princess Cle'opatre at 
 Moscow would only receive the women of her own 
 society, and the practice of this principle made many 
 poor little wives of officers and functionaries pass many 
 solitary evenings, as they were banished from the Eden 
 where a dress-coat alone had the freedom of the city. 
 
 The Princess Cldopatre had just been overlooking the 
 installation of the Prince in the shadiest, the coolest, the 
 most perfumed place in all the garden of the Bathing 
 Establishment ; it was a duty which she entrusted to no 
 one else. The Prince had some good cigars within hand's 
 reach, and his own valet-de-chambre read}^ to satisfy all 
 his demands ; further, he looked as though he were quite 
 contented with his lot, and it was therefore allowable 
 that his wife should take a moment of respite, after 
 having displayed so much zeal for the well-being of her 
 husband. So she went about quite easy in her con- 
 science, with the indifferent manner which was peculiar 
 to her, and with that dignity of carriage and of manner 
 which placed her far above all criticism, whether favor- 
 able or otherwise. Count Raben walked by her side ; 
 they scarcely spoke, having said too much to each other 
 for a common-place conversation to interest them. 
 
 The position Count Raben held vis-a-vis to Cleopatre 
 was a singular one ; she had characterised it herself one 
 day in these words: "You came too early on this 
 earth, or else I came too late ; you have gained worldly 
 knowledge, and you judge me before loving me, which 
 is something I cannot permit." 
 
M A R K O F . 325 
 
 " Do you wish people to adore you with their eyes 
 shut ? " the diplomatist had asked. 
 
 " Mon cher, when people adore, it is always with their 
 eyes shut; not only are yours always open, but you 
 make use of an eye-glass besides ! " 
 
 It was perhaps this eye-glass which prevented Cldo- 
 patre from accepting the Count's sighs. The latter 
 moreover had not sighed in the ordinary sense of the 
 word; the court which he paid the Princess strongly 
 resembled a planned battle ; and he felt in addition 
 that if he were ever to triumph, this would be the only 
 wa} r in which he would have any chance of succeeding. 
 The young woman respected his cleverness, which she 
 felt was at least equal to her own, and even occasion- 
 ally she was a little in dread of her adorer's piercing 
 eyes; they treated together as Power with Power. 
 Could they ever have loved each other, it would have 
 been in order not to hate one another ; and as they did 
 not yet love, there was every reason for supposing that 
 they hated. 
 
 Raben had arrived only within a few days, but he 
 did not need so long a time as that in order to dissect 
 from their head to their feet, both body and soul, the 
 people who made up the society of the watering-place. 
 His critical humor had stopped before two alone, Vald- 
 rien Moutine and his wife. The latter had been there 
 only a short time, but Groucha's calmness and the 
 physician's noble assurance offered no material for 
 gossip. 
 
 " Do you receive those people ? " Raben asked. 
 
 " One is always obliged to receive the physician of a 
 
326 MARKOF. 
 
 watering-place," the Princess answered; "he is very 
 rn ' ce I w ill go and return his visit one of these days." 
 
 " The physician's, or his wife's ? " 
 
 Cle"opatre shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "I am not speaking to you about his wife," said she ; 
 " a physician's wife does not exist." 
 
 " One exists enough, however, to defend herself if 
 you should try to take her husband from her ! " 
 
 " Do you think so?" said Cleopatre with a haughty 
 accent. " I would like much to see her ! " she added 
 with a disdainful laugh. 
 
 " Come, Princess, leave that nice little couple alone 
 to add a number of quarters to their honey-moon! 
 Should you destroy that happiness, would you gain 
 much by it? " 
 
 " I care much for other persons' happiness ! " said 
 she with contempt. " Other people's happiness ! what 
 an interesting thing it is ! " 
 
 Raben looked at her from under his eyes ; and she 
 continued proudly : 
 
 " You think me cynical ? Do you dare to say that in 
 a hundred individuals you could guarantee me one 
 who does not feel the same ? Yourself first, particu- 
 larly you ! The only difference between all the world 
 and myself, is that the others hide it from hypocrisy, 
 and that I tell you so plainly, from frankness." 
 
 " That frankness, Princess, might also be called cyni- 
 cism," said Raben in a voice as soft as silk. 
 
 " Cynicism, well ! That is better than hypocrisy ! " 
 
 " Certainly ! " said the diplomatist with exquisite 
 courtesy. " What surprises me can I say it to you, 
 Princess, without incurring your wrath ? " 
 
MARKOF. 327 
 
 " You can say anything that you choose," she replied 
 with the disdain that was one of her originalities; 
 4 - after all the disagreeable truths we -have said to each 
 other, I do not see why you have any need of pre- 
 caution ! " 
 
 " It is habit ! " said Raben to excuse himself. " Well ! 
 dear Princess, what surprises me, is your respect for the 
 truth, your " 
 
 " Cynicism ! " said the Princess tranquilly. 
 
 " It is you who said it this time should limit itself 
 to professions of faith; it is that you should care so 
 much about the proprieties of life, and that you should 
 be such a perfect wife to the Prince " 
 
 She stopped, and putting her nervous, supple hand 
 on the diplomatist's arm, clasped it so hard that she 
 hurt him. 
 
 " If all the world had our strength, mon cher" said 
 she, while a delicate blush mounted to her pale cheeks, 
 "it would be too beautiful! It is with intelligent 
 people that one must throw away the mask and act as 
 one thinks ; but the world is composed of idiots, who 
 are incapable of judging, who are capable at most, of 
 gathering themselves together like frightened sheep 
 and of leaving an empty space around a black one 
 which is black because it has not put its feet in their 
 footprints, and hidden its opinions as they hide their 
 vices. The world is stupid, mon cher, and that is why 
 I tell you what I think, and why I hide from them 
 what I do." 
 
 She withdrew her hand and the blush disappeared 
 quickly from her cheeks. The haughty expression 
 
328 MARKOF. 
 
 returned to her lips and she smiled with the superiority 
 of a woman who has never had a master. 
 
 " Do you blame me for it ? " she went on, as she con- 
 tinued her walk, "you, whose whole life is a falsehood." 
 
 " It is diplomacy," said Raben, smiling. She shook 
 her head with scorn. 
 
 "You lie from habit," continued she, "from taste, 
 and to form your character probably, though by this 
 time it ought to be formed or never ! How many 
 times have you told me that you loved me and with 
 what a pathetic tone." 
 
 "Ah! Princess, I have long since renounced the 
 pathetic tone. It never moved you ! " 
 
 " Nor did anything else come to pass ! All that is 
 false! You hate me; I do not love you very much, 
 and we are the best friends in the world. Did you not 
 come here expressly to see me ? " 
 
 " You are worthy of all homage ! " 
 
 " Journeys included Come, mon cher, let us leave 
 each other alone. I will not interfere with your diplo- 
 matic duties. Permit me to live as I please." 
 
 Raben bowed : the discussion was ended. They con- 
 tinued walking in the gardens, meeting from time to 
 time an acquaintance, and exchanging a bow without 
 stopping. The Princess never stopped to speak to any 
 one ; she thought it vulgar in the extreme. Suddenly, 
 as they approached the orchestra, Raben put on his eye- 
 glass, and, without changing his voice, without showing 
 the least surprise, said : 
 
 " You are worthy of all journeys, Princess, most 
 undeniably; there is some one who has come from 
 Moscow, expressly." 
 
MARK OF. 329 
 
 Cl^opatre followed the direction of his look and 
 perceived De'miane. Standing, with his back turned 
 to the orchestra, he was scanning the crowd with the 
 earnestness of a man who does not wish to make a 
 mistake. The person he was looking for, was evidently 
 not the Princess; he had assured himself at the first 
 glance that she was not there ; it was for some indica- 
 tion of her presence, the face of some one in her suite, 
 some one of those whom he had seen when she left and 
 whom he was sure not to have forgotten. 
 
 " He is a handsome fellow," said the diplomatist, who 
 was still calm. " Did you tell him to come ? " 
 
 She made a negative gesture and put on her eye-glass 
 to examine De'miane. 
 
 " He is handsomer than ever ! What are you going 
 to do with him, Princess ? " 
 
 She turned her back on the crowd and took the road 
 to her villa, without any one's having noticed her 
 presence. 
 
 " It is agreed, Count, that we will not meddle with 
 each other's affairs," said she to him, with her calm and 
 rather drawling voice. 
 
 " Unless it should be for our greater mutual good ! " 
 he concluded, "and never without permission." 
 
 "That is how I understand it," said she as she 
 pushed open the little gate of her garden. 
 
330 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 DEMIANE FINDS HIS MAGNET. 
 
 FOR two days Demiane vainly endeavored to see the 
 Princess ; the latter kept invisible. She quickly 
 found out who composed the little troupe ; she thought 
 HelSne ugly and insignificant, and assigned to Madame 
 Mianof a role of great usefulness, or rather of great 
 uselessness, and looked down upon Victor as a common 
 impresario, whose sole thought was to show his com- 
 pany in the best light. The young artist was superior 
 to his surroundings, which the Princess royally dis- 
 dained from all the height of her own haughtiness, 
 which was increased by the humility of others. De*mi- 
 ane's appearance had made a sensation in the society 
 of the place, and every one declared that he was as 
 handsome as Apollo. 
 
 Demiane cared but little for the opinion of the ladies ; 
 it was the Princess whom he alone wished to see ; soon 
 after his arrival he had learned more from M. and 
 Mme. Moutine perhaps, than he wished to know in 
 relation to her. ValeVien withheld from any too direct 
 criticism about her ; but, in the young physician's pru- 
 dence De*miarie, although inexperienced, had discovered 
 a mistrust, about which he felt as hurt as though it 
 concerned himself personally. 
 
 He mentally accused Vale*rien of allowing himself to 
 be influenced by false reports and calumnies to which 
 
M AKK O F . 331 
 
 a man of his character should not have listened. 
 Madame Mo u tine spoke of the Princess only with the 
 greatest reserve ; she evidently desired that no word 
 coming from her lips, whether good or evil, should be 
 repeated to the star of Piatigorsk. This caution 011 
 the part of his two friends increased D<hniane's impa- 
 tience and inspired him with silent anger towards those 
 who attacked his idol the same anger which he had 
 before felt towards Ladof, but this time he was not des- 
 tined to be enlightened by the bright and caustic wit 
 of his friend. 
 
 At last, on the third day, as De*miane, who was chaf- 
 ing at his curb, was walking to and fro for the tenth 
 time on the road before the villa Rddine, he saw a 
 wheeled chair, pushed by a servant, appear at a turn 
 in the garden; and beside it, shading the happy and 
 drowsy Prince with her parasol, which was lined with 
 rose-color, slowly walked the Princess Cldopatre bend- 
 ing over her husband from time to time to speak to him 
 with an enchanting smile. The old invalid roused him- 
 self and answered his protecting fairy with a dull smile, 
 and then began to look at the trees he was passing in 
 the avenue, as though he were afraid of not being able 
 to count them. 
 
 " What an excellent woman ! " thought De*miane who 
 was fascinated by this scene, and then in defiance of 
 propriety, he stopped near the iron fence, like a beggar, 
 and waited till chance should bring the pedestrians 
 closer to him, before stepping aside, should it be 
 necessary. 
 
 The wheel-chair and the parasol took several turns 
 
332 M A R K O F . 
 
 around the lawn ; then, leaning over the Prince, Cle*o- 
 patre seemed to ask him his advice about something. 
 Here, or there ? her hand seemed to say, as it pointed 
 in turn towards the park and the road. The old man 
 made a vague gesture, and immediately the little car- 
 riage rolled toward the iron fence with extraordinary 
 rapidity. De'miane scarcely had time to walk away a 
 few steps and to return, in order to pass before the gate 
 as the chair came out from it. 
 
 His heart beat very fast, as, with brows contracted 
 by emotion, and with gleaming eyes, he endeavored to 
 assume an easy air, but De'miane was dreadfully pale, 
 in spite of his boldness. However, he executed so 
 adroitly the design he had planned that the little car- 
 riage nearly came full upon him as it turned into the 
 road. He drew back a step and did not dare to raise 
 his eyes, thinking himself ridiculous, but he was not 
 timid, and his hesitation did not last the thousandth 
 part of a second; he raised his head and looked the 
 Princess full in the face. 
 
 "To the right or left?" said the latter, addressing 
 her husband, without noticing De'miane. 
 
 With an indolent air, the former made some indiffer- 
 ent movement, and the carriage passed before De'miane, 
 who* was amazed. 
 
 What, she did not recognize him? It was hardly 
 worth while to have travelled five hundred leagues to 
 meet her, if she did not remember his face ! Had she 
 forgotten the soft glance she had thrown him with that 
 thanks, which accepted the homage of all the violinist's 
 youthful passion ? If she had forgotten it, if Demiane 
 
MARKOF. 333 
 
 had only pursued a dream, were the calumnies then 
 true ? Was this woman playing with the love she had 
 inspired? Were men only jumping-jacks whose gro- 
 tesque movements amused her for a moment, and which 
 she threw away after having broken their strings ? 
 
 Our friend was not patient ; the blood rushed to his 
 face, and he was perhaps about to call to the Princess 
 when she turned half round, as though struck by a 
 remembrance, and her half-closed eyes threw a strange 
 look at De*miane. "I think I know you," said the 
 look, " but I am not sure ; tell me discreetly whether 
 you have seen me before, or whether you are only a 
 stranger." 
 
 Ddmiane's eyes returned the plainest answer to this 
 question. Then the undecided look became suddenly 
 fixed and a gleam shone in the black pupils. " I recog- 
 nize you," said the gleam, and then the near-sighted eyes 
 closed together immediately, and the Princess stopped. 
 Under the reflection of her crimson-lined parasol, her 
 complexion and her magnificent hair assumed a remark- 
 able brilliancy ; she looked like a superb rose that opens 
 itself unblushingly to the mid-day sun. 
 
 The carriage stopped. 
 
 "Monsieur Markof ?" said she, with the haughtiness 
 that was one of her provoking charms. 
 
 Ddmiane bowed in silence. He could not answer, for 
 his parched throat would not allow him to utter any 
 sound. 
 
 "I thought you were in Moscow," said she in her 
 slightly drawling voice ; " have you come here to give 
 concerts?" 
 
334 MARKOF. 
 
 He could do nothing but bow again. 
 
 "We will play some music together, if you would like 
 to do so," said she, with a perfectly queenly motion of 
 her head, which also resembled a bow ; " I receive this 
 evening." 
 
 She turned again towards the Prince, who was grum- 
 bling, impatient at the delay, which, however, was so 
 short. The little carriage began to roll forward again, 
 making the gravel on the newly macadamized pathway 
 grate, and the rose-colored parasol was held with a 
 playful tenderness in the direction of the sun over the 
 old invalid's head, while the Princess fearlessly exposed 
 to the sunshine her dazzling complexion, which had no 
 fear of tan. 
 
 " I am ridiculous ! " said Demiane suddenly to him- 
 self, with an inward shudder; "if she looked back, she 
 will take me for a runaway from college." And he 
 turned from the group which was disappearing. 
 
 He would have liked much, however, to have seen 
 her look round, and he stopped on the road more than 
 once in the hope that she would think of him, and that 
 she would throw him another glance backwards; but 
 he did not perceive one. The Princess never looked 
 back, neither in the street, nor in life. 
 
 When he returned to the hotel, he told his friends, 
 with assumed indifference, of his meeting, and asked 
 them their advice with regard to the way he should act. 
 Would it do to go to the Princess' that same evening, 
 or would it be better to wait till the next day ? Victor 
 and Hlne thought it would be better to go that even- 
 ing; Madame Mianof was rather inclined to the next 
 
MA UK OF. 335 
 
 day; but it was so hot ! It was probably the heat that 
 took away all her courage for others as well as for her- 
 self; at least, so Victor said. 
 
 " I will go to-morrow," Ddmiane declared decidedly, 
 to end the discussion. 
 
 But in the evening, towards eight o'clock, he walked 
 around the drawing-room several times, looked out of 
 the window, said it was stifling in such small rooms, 
 that he did not understand how people could remain 
 shut up in that way, and that as for himself, he was 
 going to take a walk. 
 
 " Let us all go ! " exclaimed Victor. Madame 
 Mianof preferred to remain at home ; He'le'ne went to 
 get her hat, and Ddmiane passed into his room with a 
 solemn step. The friends waited ien minutes, then 
 fifteen, and then Victor, who had grown impatient tried 
 to go into his brother's room, but he found the door 
 locked. 
 
 " Well, De*miane, what are you doing ? " said he as 
 he knocked. 
 
 " I am dressing myself," answered the young man. 
 
 " That's scarcely worth while ! " murmured Victor, 
 "it's as dark as a cellar, and the way in which they 
 light this place might be much improved." 
 
 He went to rejoin little Hdlone, who with her hat on, 
 seated near the window, was looking at the stars forming 
 diadems on the neighboring mountains. He grumbled, 
 but she, who was always calm and grave, made him 
 see that it was of no use, so he became silent, and con- 
 tented himself with looking at the stars also. 
 
 After another quarter of an hour, De*miane made his 
 
336 MARK OF. x 
 
 appearance ; his summer overcoat hid his dress, he held 
 his hat in his hand, and as the drawing-room alone was 
 lighted, no one thought of remarking his white cravat. 
 
 " At last ! " grumbled Victor. They left, and their 
 walk naturally took the direction towards the end of 
 the town ; for they could not find coolness or solitude 
 within it. They then went towards the outer boule- 
 vard, that was bordered by villas, whose trees hung 
 over the walls and threw their black shadows on the 
 road. They walked slowly, a few steps apart from 
 each other, and were enjoying the calm coolness of 
 the night. This coolness was particularly sweet to 
 Helejne, who discovered in it a secret affinity with her 
 own nature. They scarcely spoke to each other, each one 
 being absorbed in his own thoughts ; Helne was enjoy- 
 ing her realized dream. To have reached the Caucasus 
 and to have contemplated the snowy summits of the 
 high mountains ; to be walking thus under the stars, 
 bathed in the perfume of the great pines and the roses 
 blooming in the gardens which never smell so sweetly 
 as at night ; to have Ddmiane quite near to her, within 
 reach of her hand and her voice, was all that she asked 
 from life, and provided this dream would only last 
 long, she would claim no other happiness of Fate. 
 
 Victor was calculating in his mind the advantages 
 which this sojourn at the watering-place would bring 
 to them all, both from a moral and a material point of 
 view. In the first place it was assuredly something to 
 have kept little Helne with them, whose presence 
 added so much peace and sweetness to their lives. 
 Since their conversation at Saratof, neither he nor she 
 
M A R K O F . 337 
 
 had ever made any allusion to their common secret; 
 but he had looked deep enough into his own heart to 
 appreciate what this calm and silent young girl had 
 become to him, in so short a time. He knew that she 
 loved his brother, and it was perfectly natural she 
 should do so. Was not Ddmiane above all a man made 
 to be loved ? Ought not his beauty, talent and supe- 
 rior intelligence win all hearts to him ? And little 
 Helene, who shared with him the daily bread of music, 
 who became intoxicated from the same sacred cup of 
 harmony, was she not appointed by fate to share his 
 existence ? Some day or other, Ddmiane, who was 
 visibly indifferent now, would appreciate the modest 
 treasure which he overlooked, and the happiness of the 
 two young people would know no obstacle. 
 
 It was the thought of this happiness, the painful 
 looking into himself, which apprised Victor how much 
 his heart had been influenced by the young girl's mel- 
 ancholy grace. But to what could his dream lead? 
 Was it not already a great deal that his deformity did 
 not inspire He*le"ne with repugnance towards him, that 
 she permitted him in joke to call her little sister ? He 
 well knew that no woman could feel any love for a 
 poor unfortunate creature like himself ; but would not 
 the happiness of those whom he loved be his joy ? Cer- 
 tainly! And yet, the good fellow had felt scalding 
 tears run down his cheeks at the thought of that happi- 
 ness. But the sacrifice was made, an easy sacrifice, 
 thought he with irony, since he sacrificed what no one 
 had given him. It was therefore much to have brought 
 little Helchie to the Caucasus with them. In this 
 21 
 
33& MARK OF. 
 
 daily intercourse, D^miane's eyes would at length be 
 opened. In a material point of view, it was very fortu- 
 nate also, for the two young men were learning the 
 French language quickly and correctly with the two 
 ladies, a language that is indispensable in good society; 
 and then, the expenses were proportionately less, and 
 the concerts could not fail to be excellent. 
 
 The pedestrians had brought their reveries with 
 them as far as the gate where Dcmiane had waited 
 so long in the morning, and they came suddenly back 
 to reality, when the latter said to them in a deliberate 
 tone of voice : 
 
 " Return alone, my friends, I am going to the 
 Princess'." 
 
 " Going to the Princess' ! " exclaimed Victor ; " but 
 you can only go there in a dress-coat." 
 
 Ddmiane smiled confidently without replying. 
 
 " That was why you were so long in dressing your- 
 self then, mysterious gentleman. ! Why could you not 
 have told us so at home? " 
 
 " I had not decided about it, and then, am I obliged 
 to tell you everything I am going to do?" said the. 
 artist in a piqued tone. 
 
 " Ah ! Heavens ! no ! " said Victor sadly, "you are 
 not obliged to do anything. Good-night." 
 
 "Good -night, Monsieur Dcmiane," said Hone's 
 sweet voice. 
 
 He repeated her words in a brusque way and entered 
 the garden ; the gate was wide open ; and as they were 
 watching him going away, a carriage drawn by two 
 horses nearly ran over them as it turned to enter the 
 
M A R K O F . 
 
 gateway. They simultaneously seized each other's 
 hands and took the road to their dwelling. 
 
 " Have you seen the Princess ? " Helne asked after 
 a moment. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Is she young or old, ugly or handsome ? " 
 
 " She i* young and handsome/' answered Victor ; 
 " at least I have been told so." 
 
 H^lene sighed. 
 
 "We are of very little account to him," said she 
 sorrowfully ; " now he is going into the world ! " 
 
 " It is necessary to go into the world in order to give 
 concerts," observed Victor. 
 
 " Yes, but it is not the same thing." 
 
 They returned home sad and down-hearted. De*mi- 
 ane had cut the wings of their dreams. 
 
340 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE FETISH. 
 
 WHILE his friends were returning to their home, 
 filled with melancholy, De*miane did not make 
 a brilliant appearance at the Princess' ; his name, which 
 was carelessly announced by a valet-de-pied, did not 
 seem to strike any one, neither did his face. Four 
 Generals of a respectable age were playing a game of 
 preference, a fifth was awaiting his turn. The Prince, 
 who was seated in a wheeled arm-chair, which was less 
 ample but more elegant than the one he had used in the 
 morning, was presiding over a table that was especially 
 laid for him, and which was covered with sweet things 
 which he ate slowly, with visible satisfaction ; two old 
 ladies threw an indifferent glance on the new-comer 
 who was neither titled nor commissioned, and the 
 Princess, who was surrounded by charming men, most 
 of them belonging to the military, seemed only to pay 
 slight attention to the young artist's call. After the 
 first words of politeness, and two or three introductions, 
 she occupied herself no more about him, and divided 
 her attentions between the old Generals and her hus- 
 band, who was eating enough bonbons to kill him, and 
 from whom she took his plate, in spite of his protesta- 
 tions. She poured him out a cup of tea, assured herself 
 that he was drinking it properly, then passed near the 
 card table, gave some advice to one of the players, 
 
MARK OF. 341 
 
 sat for an instant between two old ladies, and then 
 returned to her circle of young men. 
 
 Raben then entered without being announced, like a 
 friend of the family, and the Prince saluted his appear- 
 ance with the longest phrase that he had uttered 
 during the day. 
 
 "Delighted to see you, Count. Are you well? " 
 
 After which the old parrot looked around for his 
 plate of bonbons, and, not finding it, to console him- 
 self, took a second cup of tea, that was poured out for 
 him by the valet-de-chambre, who was attached to his 
 person, and who, from the next room, watched all his 
 movements. 
 
 After having kissed the Princess' hand, and ex- 
 changed a few words with each person, Raben sat 
 down in a bergere, neither too near nor too far from 
 every one, and gave himself up to a disguised but 
 attentive examination of De*miane's person. 
 
 " He makes a good figure in a silly situation," 
 thought the diplomatist ; " it is a good sign and speaks 
 in his favor. How bad she must be to make him 
 play that role ! After all, she probably hopes to make 
 amends to him for it soon." 
 
 This thought inspired Count Raben with the desire 
 of making the acquaintance of the happy fellow for 
 whom so many compensations were reserved, and lie 
 rose to join him ; but the Princess passed in front of 
 him and threw herself in a large arm-chair that was 
 quite close to the one on which D^miane was sitting. 
 
 "Well played! " said Raben's eyes, in response to a 
 look of malicious defiance which his beautiful friend 
 
342 MARKOF. 
 
 threw him; then he went towards the Prince, it was 
 an infallible means, as he knew, of preventing the 
 Princess from continuing long her conversation with 
 the young artist. The number of things in which she 
 did not believe was almost unlimited, but she had a 
 blind, absolute faith in a fetish, a porte-bonheur which 
 she wished to keep for herself alone ; this fetish was 
 her husband. 
 
 When she was a young girl, the Princess Cle'opatre 
 had known sorrow; the man -whom she first loved, he 
 who perhaps might have won an irresistible influence 
 over her, had not even deigned to recognize the love 
 with which he had inspired her ; she had spent years in 
 overcoming her feelings sufficiently to be able to speak 
 to him smilingly, as people speak to each other in soci- 
 ety ; she had gained so much control over herself that 
 she was accused of detesting the man; in truth she did 
 detest him ; she had passed from love to hate, as one 
 passes over the water on a bridge, without a shock, 
 "without reluctance; assured of being disdained, she 
 wished now but one thing: the death of him who, 
 without knowing it, had thus humiliated her. It was 
 in this trial that she had gained all her energy ; she had, 
 moreover, gained in it a great disdain, and a great con- 
 tempt for humanity, which is so stupid. 
 
 Then she ha 1 married the Prince, who was twenty- 
 five years older than herself, and many millions richer, 
 and her life had changed its character. All the happi- 
 ness that luxury can give, all the independence that 
 contempt for men can bestow, all the success that a 
 threat name and a high position brings had suddenly 
 
MARK OF. 343 
 
 fallen around her, making a litter for her pride and 
 li'T caprices. The Prince, who was wounded eighteen 
 months after his marriage, had passed through a dread- 
 ful illness in which his mind had been shattered. From 
 the day when cured, but counted out of the number of 
 living beings, he sat on the terrace of their palace to 
 devour sweets, which alone henceforth gave him any 
 enjoyment, the Princess Redine felt a fierce delight as 
 she looked around her. 
 
 " Everything belongs to me ! all that life can bestow," 
 she said to herself. And in truth, she possessed every 
 thing that the earth produces that is most exquisite and 
 most rare all, except the love of an honest man; but 
 this mattered little to her for she did not believe in it. 
 
 On the other hand, she believed that her husband, in 
 the state to which he was reduced, was the visible 
 providence of her life : through what crack in her skull 
 had this idea penetrated into the Princess' powerfully 
 organized brain ? It matters little ; but it was on 
 account of this that she was a good wife, and that she 
 had no interest that did not yield to that of satisfy- 
 ing all the childish wants of the foolish old man ; she 
 held so much to his life that she had the courage and 
 patience to resist for hours any gluttonish caprices of 
 his that might endanger his precious existence. She 
 took him to walk, amused him, put him to sleep to the 
 sound of distant music every night, and left her draw- 
 ing-room to inquire whether his slumbers were not 
 disturbed. 
 
 On seeing Raben approach her fetish, the Princess 
 made a gesture of impatience ; she had a vague dread 
 
344 M A R K O F . 
 
 of what he might say, and of what the other might 
 understand. This was the sword of Damocles in a 
 happiness that would have been too insolent without i f ; 
 this woman who feared nothing, was in dread of an 
 awakening in her husband's mind ; she knew the Count 
 was clever enough to rouse in him at times, fugi- 
 tive returns of memory or intelligence, which caused 
 her an uneasiness that she could not overcome; she 
 feared in such an awakening an attack which might 
 end in death and the Prince must live. While 
 she was addressing a few insignificant words about 
 art and poetry to Demiane, her look never quitted 
 the wheeled chair. Suddenly she rose and took two 
 steps toward the Prince, thus interrupting his con- 
 versation. 
 
 "My dear," said she to him with charming grace, 
 " here is Monsieur Markof, a young man of remarkable 
 talent, one of our future glories; knowing how fond 
 you are of music, I begged him to come and see us ; I 
 am sure you will be grateful to me for it ! and to him 
 also. The Prince, my husband," she added, half turn- 
 ing to Ddmiane, over whom she threw her magnetic 
 glance. Then she passed slowly in front of him, and 
 the folds of her heavy silk dress, which was loaded with 
 trimmings, rose almost to the young man's knees, then 
 fell and followed her at a distance on the Persian carpet 
 which was woven in soft and quiet colors. 
 " Music," said the Prince, " I like music." 
 After this effort, he buried himself in his chair much 
 pleased he almost always had a satisfied look. Demi- 
 ane, who was much embarrassed, did not know what to 
 
MARK OF. 345 
 
 reply. Raben came to his aid, offered him a chair and 
 took one for himself, and immediately, the simple young 
 man thought he had found a friend. 
 
 After half an hour, Raben rose, and Demiane judged 
 it was time to retire. He approached the Princess, 
 who received him amiably and indifferently. 
 
 " When would you prefer," said she to him, " that 
 we should play a little music together ? " 
 
 " Whenever you please, Madame," said he, quickly 
 become joyful. 
 
 " In the morning, will that suit you ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "To-morrow no; day after to-morrow morning, at 
 ten o'clock, will you come ? " 
 
 He bowed and withdrew at once. 
 
 " Still a little awkward," said Raben carelessly, when 
 the young artist had disappeared, " but he has a good 
 amount of assurance and then one gets over awk- 
 wardness with time and with lessons." 
 
 44 He is a little young," replied the Princess. " But 
 youth is a charming defect one gets over it also 
 with time." 
 
 But Raben continued to smile. Epigrams glanced 
 from him. He had fired off so many at others, that 
 they had no more sharp points for him. 
 
346 MARK OF. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 DEMIANE AWAKES. 
 
 DEMIANE had played with the Princess for a week, 
 and every time that he returned home, he was 
 utterly down-hearted. He lived no longer except in 
 this woman, from the air she breathed, from the flowers 
 which her hand grazed as she passed them, from the 
 folds of her dress which touched him sometimes and 
 which made him thrill from his head to his feet. He 
 now scarcely ate, pretending he had taken tea down there 
 down there, was the villa, which he no longer called 
 otherwise he practised no more on his violin, which 
 he left on the end of the grand piano, and passed his 
 days in smoking cigarettes, with Madame Mianof; 
 these two persons did not mutually disturb each other : 
 one being in her somnolent state, the other wrapt in 
 his feverish revery, they passed hours without address- 
 ing a word to one another, and without making any 
 motion. 
 
 After a week of this existence, Helne and Victor, 
 who were very gloomy, ended in not speaking to each 
 other any more, nor did they even look at each other, 
 fearing to understand one another too well. They had 
 seen the Princess when the music played, at the Casino, 
 and the same certainty had torn the veil from their now 
 understanding eyes. Victor recalled the singular scene 
 when Ladof had been almost obliged to use authority 
 
MARK OF. 347 
 
 in order to bring Demiane back to reasonable feelings, 
 and then a thousand incidents of their journey grouped 
 themselves together in his mind and he understood that 
 the Caucasus had always been the goal of their musical 
 journey. 
 
 From the first time he saw her, the Princess had 
 inspired him with a deep and unreasonable antipathy: 
 the beauty of this woman had no influence over his 
 simple soul, and he had declared she was ugly, but in 
 confidence and to Helcne alone. Cle'opatre produced 
 upon him the influence of a siren, of an evil-doing and 
 mythical being, who would necessarily swallow up 
 Demiane some day, should he allow himself to be led 
 away; and how could he be prevented from throwing 
 himself into the wolf's jaws! And then his heart was 
 wounded at the silence of his brother on this delicate 
 subject. He thought he had a right to his confidence. 
 
 H clone had not said so much to herself: she did not 
 know why they had come to Piatigorsk, and if she had 
 been aware of it, it would not have changed her feel- 
 ings very much. Demiane loved that woman, was not 
 that enough ? She did not share Victor's opinion ; who 
 was more worldly, and better enlightened in regard to 
 modern customs. She recognized the Princess' unques- 
 tionable superiority, her strange beauty and her fasci- 
 nating manners, and the abyss into which the poor 
 young girl % fell when she compared herself to this 
 brilliant star, was only the deeper. 
 
 Helene had no great resources to call upon where her 
 feelings were concerned ; she neither knew how to, nor 
 could she struggle with such a rival ; she only wept. 
 
348 MARKOF. 
 
 Dark circles formed around her eyes, and her face grew 
 slightly thin. She was a hundred times prettier, and 
 only Victor peceived it. 
 
 One day, instead of coming home about twelve 
 o'clock, as he generally did, De*miane made them delay 
 breakfast for him ; after an hour our friends decided to 
 take their repast without him, and as they were finish- 
 ing it, he entered, carrying his head high and with a 
 triumphant look in his eyes. 
 
 " We are going to give a concert next week," said 
 he laying down his hat gravely, on an empty plate. 
 " Are you ready, Helene ? " 
 
 It was the first time that he had omitted the word 
 mademoiselle, and this involuntary mark of familiarity 
 comforted the little pianiste's sorrowful heart. 
 
 " I am always ready, as you well know ! " said she 
 joyfully. 
 
 " I do not speak with regard to your piano," con- 
 tinued De*miane, wisely. " The question concerns your 
 toilette. The concert will be very grand. His Impe- 
 rial Highness will do us the honor of attending it with 
 his suite." 
 
 "Highnesses!" said Victor, with a tragi- comical 
 motion. " Must I take off my hump ! " 
 
 " That joke is in bad taste," said the artist, with a very 
 elegant gesture of disdain, which he had lately learned 
 at the villa Rddine ; "but Helene can adorn herself, 
 she ought to do so, in order to do honor to the grand 
 public." 
 
 "And to you ! " said the young girl, raising her honest 
 eyes to her idol. 
 
M A R K O F . 349 
 
 He deigned to smile kindly, and his look fell on his 
 modest accompanist to assure himself that she would 
 not really shame him in the society of so distinguished 
 persons ; he had doubtless learned how to appreciate 
 pure lines and delicate contours, for he started with 
 surprise. 
 
 "Why," said he, "you have improved wonderfully ; 
 I no longer recognize you ! with your clear complexion, 
 your hair, your smile. Do you know you are very 
 pretty ? " 
 
 H61ene smiled and raised her head with a little very 
 natural pride. 
 
 " I did not know it," said she ; " but I am glad that 
 it is so, glad that it should be you who tell me so. * ? 
 
 " Will you please see the little coquette ! You wish 
 people to pay you compliments, then ? " 
 
 "No, Monsieur Demiane," replied the young girl, 
 casting down her pretty eyes, which showed confusion, 
 " it is because no one ever told me so before." 
 
 " You must not spoil young girls," said Madame Mi- 
 anof who, inspired by the feeling of duty that is grafted 
 on maternal prudence, thought it necessary to inter- 
 fere ; " young girls should be ignorant of the natural 
 advantages that nature has bestowed upon them, and 
 above all, not take any pride in them. What dress 
 must my daughter wear at this concert ? I ask your 
 advice, Monsieur Ddmiane, because, as you go into 
 fashionable society, you know better than ourselves. 
 
 " I know absolutely nothing about it ! " Ddmiane 
 declared in all sincerity. 
 
 "But you see ladies at the Princess'." 
 
350 M A R K O F . 
 
 " They are old ladies. That has not the least con- 
 nection." 
 
 " The Princess herself?" 
 
 " Oh ! the Princess it is not the same thing. She 
 dresses like no one else ! " 
 
 Helene stifled a sigh, and Victor repressed a move- 
 ment of impatience. 
 
 "I do not suppose, however, that she wears her 
 bonnets in the way of slippers," said she, in a sour 
 tone. 
 
 " No, she does not go as far as that," replied De*mi- 
 ane, who was too happy that day to take in ill part 
 what he considered as a joke. 
 
 " You have surely some dresses, Helene, show them 
 to me." 
 
 " I have not a single nice dress to show you," replied 
 the young girl timidly ; " I shall be obliged to have one 
 made." 
 
 " A white dress?" Madame Mianof timidly suggested. 
 
 " No, no," said Ddmiane eagerly, " not white,, it is 
 too much worn." 
 
 Helene and her mother looked at each other per- 
 plexed. They did not know thaf white being the 
 Princess' favorite color, the young man did not wish to 
 see any one else wear it. 
 
 "Have you not some pieces of silk from Nijni?" he 
 suggested. 
 
 "Ah! that is true! I had not thought of them," 
 exclaimed Helene, running to her trunk. 
 
 She plunged her pretty little head into its depths 
 and returned gayly, with her arms laden with the most 
 
MARKOF. 351 
 
 remarkable materials, woven in the most brilliant 
 colors, which were very suitable for covering elegant 
 furniture. 
 
 Our friends burst out laughing at the sight of this 
 rainbow display, took a real pleasure in shaking out the 
 heavy brocades and making them shimmer in the light. 
 They were perfectly inadmissible for toilettes. How- 
 ever, underneath them all, Helene found a light grey 
 material, dotted over with little broche stars woven in 
 gold-colored silk ; it was odd, but very pretty, and the 
 young girl pointed it out with her finger to her judge, 
 with some timidity. 
 
 " That is very nice," said the latter ; " we must see 
 what Madame Moutine will say about it." 
 
 Madame Moutine had conceived a friendship for 
 Helene. At first she had been a little troubled in 
 regard to the two women with whom her friends had 
 encumbered themselves, she was anxious about their 
 morality and the plans they might have in view, but 
 she had promptly reassured herself; she did not cer- 
 tainly quite do justice to Madame Mianof, whom she 
 thought less worthy of esteem than she really was, but 
 ittle Helene had inspired her with a tender sympathy 
 ;hat was mingled with an endless compassion for the 
 Door little creature who was cast so early, and so alone 
 into all the difficulties of life. She thought the mate- 
 rial very pretty and wished to procure a dress-maker for 
 Helene. 
 
 " No," said Demiane rather embarrassed, the " Prin- 
 cess wishes her maid to make the dress." 
 
 Helene, who was humiliated, hung down her head. 
 
352 MARK OF. 
 
 She did not wish to be under any obligation to that 
 arrogant Princess, even for the making of a dress ; but 
 De*miane insisted upon it and she was obliged to yield, 
 The maid came and carried away the material, and told 
 her mistress all that the latter wished to know ; after 
 which the noble lady bestowed no more thought upon 
 the little pianiste than she did on the benches in the 
 concert hall. Her maid had told her that she waa 
 
MAR EOF. 353 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 VICTOR ANGRY. 
 
 " said Raben in a low voice, when the day 
 for the concert having come, the young girl 
 appeared upon the platform. " Those who told you so 
 lad not looked at her ! What hair, what eyes, and 
 what a pretty, sweet and delicate face ! That Ddmiane 
 is a lucky rogue ! " 
 
 " Eh ! " said the Princess turning towards him with a 
 ^learn of fury in her strange eyes. 
 
 Raben smiled calmly and put his eye-glasses on 
 again. 
 
 "See, yourself, Princess, how she divines his least 
 intentions, how she follows the motion of his bow ; he 
 does not think any more about the piano than if it did 
 not exist ; it is she who watches over everything and 
 who seems to be a part of the violin itself. One must 
 love a man dearly to identify oneself with him in such 
 away!" 
 
 Pshaw !" said Cle'opatre who had regained her cool- 
 ness which had been disturbed for a moment, " there is 
 no love in that, it is simply mechanical." 
 
 Do you think so ? Look ; they applaud her hero, 
 and it is she who blushes with pleasure. Have no fear 
 that she will take the least particle of his triumph to 
 herself ! She does not even think that she has a right 
 to any praise, she enjoys that which the enthusiastic 
 22 
 
354 M A R K O F . 
 
 crow d brought here by you, clear friend lavishes 
 on the man she loves. And that innocent, timid, happy 
 look which she throws on him just as he takes up his 
 bow to begin again, is that not love ?' But after all, I 
 am wrong, perhaps, to take you as a judge in this ; it is 
 a kind of love that you cannot understand, a 'stupid arid 
 commonplace love that lives of itself and expects noth- 
 ing from the loved one! fools love in this way; but 
 you are too clever " 
 
 " Take care," said the Princess in a very low voice 
 and with -the most charming smile," do not banter me, 
 for I might desire to get rid of you the Techerkesses 
 of these mountains do not think much of a man's 
 life." 
 
 " You would not dare to do so," replied Raben, with 
 the same calmness, "you know that I can be very 
 useful to you, my devotion is too precious to you 
 But how admirably we both understand joking, do we 
 not?" 
 
 She smiled and her smile disclosed her fierce, white 
 teeth. Helene, who was looking at her stealthily as 
 she played, felt such a shiver pass over her when she 
 saw this expression on her face, that she missed a note. 
 A very slight, but almost brutal sign of impatience, 
 escaped Demiane. She cast down her head humbly 
 and applied herself with all her might to play her best. 
 
 " It is true," said Cleopatre, " she loves him in her 
 sheepish fashion; but he does not love her." 
 
 " How could he love her ? He has something very 
 different in his head! To him, she does not even 
 exist ! " 
 
MARKOF. 355 
 
 The Princess smiled again, but her face had changed 
 its expression, and wore for the rest of the time the 
 look of peaceful satisfaction of a woman who adores 
 music. 
 
 When the concert was over, De*miane received the 
 congratulations of several distinguished personages, and 
 felt himself at last lord of the land. It was a success 
 which he owed to the Princess. He wished to tell her 
 so, and to thank her, but she had disappeared in the 
 gardens. A little vexed, he returned to Hele"ne, who 
 was arranging the music; she had already laid the 
 violin in its case, and Victor held it under his arm, 
 ready to leave. 
 
 "Are you coming?" said the latter, turning towards 
 the door. 
 
 Ddmiane shrugged his shoulders angrily. 
 
 " Would not one say that I cannot go out alone ? 
 For God's sake, leave me in peace ! It is intolerable to 
 be watched over like this ! " 
 
 At the first words of this speech, Hdlene left the 
 hall ; with her long train caught up by her left hand, 
 and with a little bachlik of white lace on her head, she 
 walked slowly in the garden, which was deserted at 
 this hour, when every one returned home for dinner. 
 The sun hid itself behind the trees, but then she did 
 not fear the sun any more than the Princess Cldopatre. 
 She walked with her head cast down, going round the 
 garden-plot and waited for Victor, who for the first 
 time in his life had just answered his brother sharply. 
 Her sense of justice told her that De*miane had well 
 deserved some reproaches, and yet like a mother who 
 
356 MARKOF. 
 
 weeps as she chastises her rebellious child, her heart 
 bled for the guilty one. Suddenly a rapid footstep 
 made a noise on the sand ; she raised her eyes, and saw 
 before her the Princess Re'dine, who stopped. 
 
 "Mademoiselle He'lSne?" said the noble lady, with 
 kindness. 
 
 " Yes, Madame," replied the young girl, bowing 
 slightly. 
 
 " Would you kindly play a little this evening at my 
 house, if Monsieur Markof is not too tired, of course ? 
 Do you think he can come ? " 
 
 Helene looked the Princess full in the eyes, and 
 answered in her clear, sweet voice : 
 
 44 1 am sure he will be happy to obey your commands, 
 Madame." 
 
 44 And you?" 
 
 44 1 accompany Monsieur Markof whenever it pleases 
 him to ask me," replied the young girl, without haugh- 
 tiness, but also without cordiality. After a very short 
 silence she continued:- 44 Since I have the honor of 
 speaking to you, Madame, permit me to thank you for 
 the trouble you took in sending me your maid " 
 
 44 The dress fits you very well," said the Princess, as 
 she examined her rival from her head to her feet ; 44 it 
 is a little odd, but very pretty." 
 
 44 Madame is very kind," replied Helene, turning 
 away her eyes. 
 
 Cleopatre looked for an instant longer at her who 
 thus received advances from a lady of rank, then 
 she bowed to her haughtily, and went away. She 
 felt wounded without knowing wherefore, for nothing 
 
3CARKQF. 357 
 
 either in the young girl's words or manner could give 
 her a pretext for any irritation. She consoled herself 
 by thinking that this little savage was badly brought 
 up, and she promised herself that she would teach her 
 better manners, if an occasion to do so should present 
 itself. 
 
 At the same moment, Victor hastened towards Helene 
 much excited, and led her away across the garden to 
 the place where the carriage was awaiting them. 
 
 " The violin ? " said the young girl, on seeing that 
 the precious instrument was not in the little hunch- 
 back's hands. 
 
 " Let him bring it ! " said he, as he sat down in the 
 carriage, whose door he shut angrily ; " let him bring 
 it and let him return on foot ! I will not act as his ser- 
 vant ! Neither shall you, Helene, you shall not mend 
 his linen any more ; he is becoming intolerable with his 
 haughty airs : he has caught them at the Princess', as 
 one catches an illness ! And it is worse than the plague, 
 most assuredly ! But I am his elder brother, and I will 
 not allow him to snub me ! From to-night " 
 
 " To-night we are going to the Princess','' said He*l- 
 Sne, putting her little supplicating hand on the arm ot 
 this avenger of birthrights ; " I implore you, my good 
 Victor, do not scold him to-night ; he will play badly, 
 and you know the harm that might do him ! He has 
 sensitive nerves " 
 
 " The devil take his nerves ! I have some as well, 
 after all ! And you, have you none ? " 
 
 " My good Victor," continued Helene, " I beseech 
 you, if you love me, don't say anything to him, it is 
 
358 MARK OF. 
 
 only a hard moment to pass through; he will come 
 back to us, he loves us " 
 
 At these words she burst into tears and suddenly 
 covered her face with her two hands. She felt so 
 deeply that he did not love her ! The carriage stopped, 
 she wiped her eyes hastily with her little handkerchief, 
 and jumped out with a calm and resigned air. She 
 had long since learned how to assume this expression. 
 But who, on account of this, would have dared to have 
 accused her of hypocrisy? 
 
M A R K O F . 359 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 LITTLE HELENE REVEALS HERSELF. 
 
 THE Princess had invited to her house that evening 
 all the best society in Piatigorsk ; she well knew 
 that whenever a day has been marked by some event 
 that people's nerves are more excited, their minds are 
 more animated, that men are cleverer and women pret- 
 tier, and it seems as though every one has an excess of 
 vitality, which is a rare thing in ordinary existence ; 
 so she threw open her drawing-room almost regularly 
 on such occasions. There was no need of a particular 
 invitation ; two large illuminated lanterns at the garden 
 railing, announced to people that there would be a 
 reception at the villa Redine, and all those who had 
 usual access to it, knew that they could present them- 
 selves. 
 
 Ddmiane went there with Helene. He would have 
 preferred to have gone alone, but he had arrived at 
 that period of his fascination when the least desire is 
 a command. Until then he had floated in the most 
 vague uncertainty ; there were times when he dared to 
 hope everything ; but he oftener fell from his heaven an 
 instant afterwards, called back to reality by a disdainful 
 gesture, an absent smile, or a freezing look that threw 
 him into the most despairing doubts. His complete 
 moral servitude vis-a-vis to this woman, being taken 
 into account, whom he loved passionately, and to whom 
 
360 M A R K O F . 
 
 it was impossible for him to address one word of love, 
 lie could in consequence only obey her caprices. He 
 arrived there about ten o'clock, anxious and discon- 
 tented, but firmly hoping that this evening would bring 
 about a good result for his future. The calculator, 
 which in De*miane went always side-by-side with the 
 artist, whispered in his ear that his presence among so 
 many great personages could not fail to make him use- 
 ful acquaintances; our friend knew too little of the 
 world to understand that in inviting Helene to come 
 with him the Princess had meant to send him back to 
 the rank of a simple artist, who had come to delight 
 her guests, and not as a friend who was received on an 
 intimate footing. 
 
 Certain women, whose principles are assuredly not 
 more narrow than were those of the Princess, and who 
 do not evince any more severity in the practice of them, 
 can love men who are inferior to them in position. 
 Queens have been known to marry shepherds, and 
 even not to marry them at all, which was something 
 still more embarrassing. But they make a sort of code 
 of honor for themselves, which obliges them to elevate 
 as much as possible, and to bring near to them in posi- 
 tion at any cost, him who has known how to win them 
 over to his cause. This need of building a pedestal for 
 the man they have chosen, is a sort of rehabilitation 
 to them ; it is even an unconscious avowal of their 
 weakness, and shows a desire to repair it as far as is 
 possible, or at the least, to excuse it. The Princess felt 
 nothing similar to this, and that was what distinguished 
 her from all other Delilahs ; she did not desire to see 
 
MARKOF. 361 
 
 him who pleased her, great ; what was the use of it ? 
 what could she have gained by it ? On the contrary, 
 should the chosen one become so, he might perhaps 
 arrogate some rights to himself; the Princess was sat- 
 isfied that they should possess a gilded mediocrity, a 
 modesty full of charms, that would attract no one's 
 attention either to themselves or their history. But 
 she had taste, and never looked twice at a fool, though 
 he should be as handsome as Antinous. 
 
 She received the two artists with incomparable grace ; 
 never had Demiane obtained so many kind words from 
 her before ; it is true, that Helene received almost as 
 many for her share, but it is easy to suppose that people 
 are kind to our friends for love of us, and this was what 
 our modest artist did not fail to say to himself. 
 
 " I wished," said Cleoputre, as she conducted them to 
 the piano, " that the Prince, who was deprived of the 
 concert a little while ago, should have his small share 
 in our artistic pleasure. He would really have been 
 too unhappy to have listened to us talking about such a 
 fete and not to have heard the least echo of it." 
 
 The Prince grumbled an assent ; bonbons and music 
 were the two things he loved most in the world, and 
 then the guests made a circle in order to listen. 
 
 Helene sat on the piano stool, which was really an 
 instrument of torture to her, with a resolution full of 
 despair. Until then she had made a total renounce- 
 ment of self, forgetting herself for De*nriane, only happy 
 in completing his success, and unaware that she might 
 have any individual worth; this worth, she felt that 
 she possessed however, but what was the use of bring- 
 
362 MARKOF. 
 
 ing it to light? The necessity of being no longer a 
 shadow, of becoming also a star, became apparent to 
 her at a turn of a pathway, in the garden, at the same 
 time with the Princess. 
 
 " They make no account of me," she said to herself ; 
 " I am going to prove to them that I am not what they 
 suppose ; and who knows ? perhaps he will love me 
 better for it ! " 
 
 At the way in which she played the few bars of the 
 prelude, people looked at each other in the drawing- 
 room. She had not played like that in the morning ; 
 who would have believed that the little accompanist 
 was capable of so much precision, of such an individual 
 accent ? She continued, and, singularly enough, the 
 talent which she developed was so great that it threw 
 D&niane's momentarily into the shade. He felt it, and 
 a sort of rage arose in his heart : 
 
 " Ah ! you wish to play better than I do ? " he said 
 mentally, " we will see whether you are capable of it." 
 
 It was no longer the submissive accompaniment, 
 destined to enhance the worth of the violin's song : it 
 was a struggle between the two instruments, an impas- 
 sioned and passionate struggle, in which Helne had 
 the upper hand, for she was combatting for her dignity, 
 and for her love, while Demiane was only fighting for 
 his pride. 
 
 They were overwhelmed with sincere applause 
 they love music almost to madness in Russia and the 
 Princess, addressing herself to Ddmiane, said to him 
 with an accent he had never before heard : 
 
 " You have surpassed yourself I " 
 
MARK OF, 363 
 
 Raben, who had quietly approached the piano, said 
 to little Helene, in a low tone, while the sound of the 
 other voices covered his : 
 
 " You have a wonderful talent ; play something by 
 yourself, you will please the Princess." 
 
 Helene looked at him undecidedly, then turned her 
 glance upon the group which surrounded De*miane, and 
 shook her head. 
 
 " No, Monsieur," said she ; " I came here to accom- 
 pany Monsieur Markof, not to have them listen to me." 
 
 Raben took off his eye-glass, offered a chair to the 
 little pianist, and stood up before her." 
 
 " I must compliment you, Mademoiselle," he said to 
 her with as much deference as though he were speaking 
 to the inheritor of a great name, " you give proof of no 
 ordinary tact and modesty." 
 
 She received the praise without embarrassment ; there 
 are hours when the most simple young girl feels her- 
 self superior to everything, either criticism or praise; 
 it is when the happiness of her life is in danger. 
 
 " You have a great deal of friendship for Monsieur 
 Markof, have you not ? " continued Raben ; " you 
 ought to advise him not to give himself up to the 
 pleasures of society ; more than one has lost his talent 
 in it, his faith in himself, and many other things 
 besides. Do you understand me ? " 
 
 She looked at him, frightened, and made a sign with 
 her head. 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, your friend is running the risk 
 of no danger, of no material danger, at least ; but it 
 may come. At Monsieur Markof s age, one should 
 
364 M A R K O P . 
 
 work a great deal and not think that one has attained 
 everything, but endeavor to do better, and above all, to 
 live in the bosom of one's family, in a peaceful home, 
 amid pure joys " 
 
 " You have your mother still with you, I believe ? " 
 
 Helene made a motion of assent without replying: 
 she felt her heart tighten and did not dare to saj any- 
 thing. 
 
 " You ought to form one closely united family - you 
 who have influence over Monsieur Markof " 
 
 " No," she said with gentleness, but in a firm voice, 
 " I have no influence over Monsieur Markof." 
 
 He looked at her with increased kindness. 
 
 "Try to acquire it," said he, "you will do him a 
 great deal of good Excuse my frankness, Mademoi- 
 selle, I have not the right to speak to you in this way ; 
 but at my age, one can consider young girls of yours, 
 almost as children " 
 
 Never had Raben spoken about his age before, and the 
 Princess would have laughed heartily if she had heard 
 this new language. New it was in truth, from every 
 point of yiew, for Raben himself had just felt at the 
 sight of this young girl a strange emotion which greatly 
 resembled a tender pity. For though one may be a 
 diplomatist, there remains in the heart some springs 
 that are not dried up, and which suddenly burst forth 
 when one least expects it, reviving a freshness which has 
 been thought destroyed. Raben had just discovered 
 one of these springs. 
 
 " I pass for a bad man," said he to Helene, perhaps 
 to excuse his unwonted feeling. " I am one sometimes, 
 but never with children or the weak ones of this world.' 
 
MAR EOF. 365 
 
 He rose and smiled, and went to join the group 
 where Demiane was triumphing, leaving the little 
 pianiste to follow him with an anxious and grateful 
 look. 
 
 They began to play again, but Hdlene possessed no 
 longer the animation that had so excited her the first 
 time ; she acquitted herself of her task with taste, with 
 talent, but in a way to make Ddmiane forgive her for 
 the wrong she had previously done. Towards mid- 
 night, warned by a glance from Raben, Helene said to 
 the young artist : 
 
 "Is it not time for us to go?" He looked around 
 him, saw that they had forgotten him, and understood 
 that the moment for leaving had come. Approaching 
 the Princess, he wished to address a few words of thanks 
 to her, but she interrupted him without listening to 
 him: 
 
 " Till to-morrow at ten o'clock," said she ; " we will 
 then continue our practising, will we not ? Good-night, 
 Mademoiselle, I thank you." And she turned her back 
 on them with unparalleled grace. 
 
 The next morning, when she awoke, Helene found in 
 a casket that had been brought to her by the Princess' 
 valet-de-pied, a gold ring ornamented with turquoises ; 
 she looked at it for a long time and gave it to Victor, 
 Saying to him : 
 
 " That will do to make you a scarf pin." 
 
 He wished very much to refuse it, but on reflection, 
 said to himself that they would ask what had become 
 of it, and he put it in his waistcoat pocket without any 
 formality. 
 
366 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 PROTECTION. 
 
 fl^EN o'clock sounded when Demiane, who had not 
 JL yet learned the great art of not being quite exact, 
 and yet punctual, ascended the steps of the villa Re'dine. 
 The anteroom was deserted, the drawing-room also; he 
 walked idly about a moment or two, and then sat down 
 in an arm-chair a little impatiently. Never before had 
 he received such a welcome ; the Princess was always 
 there, the ante-room was always full of servants ; this 
 morning the house seemed dead. 
 
 In a few moments a maid appeared. 
 
 " The Princess is a little indisposed, she begs that 
 you will play in her boudoir." 
 
 Ddrniane took his violin case and followed the maid 
 through a succession of differently decorated rooms 
 which he had never seen. Through a window that 
 looked out on the garden, he saw disappearing in the 
 distance in his wheeled-chair the Prince, who was going 
 to seek shade and coolness in the windings of the 
 valley ; at length, the last door was reached, the maid 
 knocked twice softly and passed in first, followed by 
 Demiane who stopped on the threshold. 
 
 "Pray shut the door!" said the Princess smiling, 
 "you make a draught of air ! " 
 
 He obeyed mechanically ; the maid had disappeared 
 no one knew how, and he was alone with Clcopatre, in 
 
M ARKO F . 367 
 
 a room which was rather large, which had a high ceil- 
 ing, and which was hung in brocaded Caucasian silk, 
 with changing and harmonious shades. Gildings here 
 and there, a beautiful Venetian mirror of cut crystal, 
 an upright piano, some low chairs that were of various 
 forms, composed the furniture. There were vases 
 everywhere, and in these vases enormous bouquets of 
 freshly cut roses which gave forth the odor that is 
 peculiar to these flowers when they have just been 
 gathered, an odor that soon changes, and which 
 becomes as overpowering as it is sweet during the first 
 hour after they have been cut. 
 
 Cle'opatre, half lying on her sofa, and surrounded 
 with floating lace and clad in snowy waves of muslin, 
 with bare arms and her neck half-veiled, seemed over- 
 come by the heat and fatigue. However, it was cool 
 in the boudoir, and she ought not to have been wearied 
 by all that muslin. She raised her eyes to De'miane, 
 who was greatly agitated. 
 
 " I am not ill," said she, answering his look ; " but I 
 am weary of always being under arms ; you will not be 
 displeased with me for receiving you en ntgligS as a 
 friend? Pray sit down." 
 
 He seated himself at a little distance, and was very 
 much embarrassed to know what to do with himself. 
 This kindness, the amiable familiarity of this reception 
 bewildered him. However, he had something to say, 
 that his frank and honest nature could no longer 
 restrain, and he spoke: 
 
 " I owe you a great deal, Princess," said he ; " you 
 have encouraged, guided and protected me; yesterday 
 
368 MARKOF. 
 
 will be a marked day in my life, and I owe it to you, 
 Permit me to express my gratitude to you for it." 
 
 Cle*opatre smiled. 
 
 " Child ! " said she ; " what a great child ! One can 
 amuse you with a rattle ! A little satisfied vanity, is 
 not that a fine reason for gratitude?" 
 
 He wished to reply, but she stopped him with a 
 motion. 
 
 " No," continued she, " let us talk of something else. 
 Why have you never told me that you are so intimate 
 with Mademoiselle HelSne ? " 
 
 "I?" exclaimed Ddmiane, rising, and with the most 
 sincere vehemence ; " I do not even know the color of 
 her eyes ! " 
 
 " She knows very well the color of yours ! " replied 
 the Princess, smiling; "although you seem desirous of 
 making me believe you are not so intimate " 
 
 She stopped with a wave of her hand the passionate 
 denial that De*miane had upon his lips. 
 
 " You should not allow her to make her affection for 
 you so conspicuous. I understand that in private you 
 would not attach much importance to such demonstra- 
 tions which are after all, only childish ; but in public 
 you should advise her to be more prudent." 
 
 " Little He'lene ? " said Ddmiane, thus betraying his 
 disdain for the poor child; "she makes her affection 
 for me conspicuous? Pardon me, Princess, I do not 
 understand ! " 
 
 "You are not going to pretend," the Princess an- 
 swered, with a malicious delight in her eyes, " that you 
 do not know that she loves you." 
 
 " She loves me ? Who ? Little Hdlene ? " 
 
MARK OF. 369 
 
 " It is so visible, that I am inclined to doubt the 
 good faith of your astonishment ! " replied the Princess, 
 who was delighted with her success. 
 
 44 She is a silly thing ! " exclaimed Ddmiane, who was 
 divided between the satisfaction to his pride, which the 
 idea of knowing himself loved caused him, and the 
 mortification of having to offer in sacrifice to his 
 goddess so small a thing as little H clone's love; but 
 one gives what one has, and after all to do that is 
 satisfactory. 
 
 " Not so silly! " said the Princess, with so enigmati- 
 cal a smile, so sweet a look, that Ddmiane, who had 
 suddenly grown very bold, left his chair and went and 
 sat on a cushion, which was at the foot of the sofa. 
 No one could ever imagine how much self-possession he 
 had acquired in knowing himself loved by the little 
 pianiste. 
 
 " She has known how to discover your merits, which 
 is a proof of intelligence. Then you do not love her?" 
 
 " Not the least in the world ! " exclaimed the artist, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "It is a pity!" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because because it does a man credit to make 
 victims." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Ddmiane, with a haughty air, that was 
 destined to prove that little Helene and nothing were 
 quite the same. Emboldened by the Princess' look, he 
 added : 
 
 " You know very well that I cannot love any one of 
 those who surround me " 
 23 
 
370 MARKOF. 
 
 "You have not yet made me any confidences!" said 
 Cle'opatre, in an ironical way. 
 
 " Do not joke with me," continued he, his lips trem- 
 bling with emotion. "If you should turn me out of 
 doors, now, it would be very unkind, Princess, very 
 unkind; you know it well " 
 
 She smiled and looked at him again ; she had raised 
 herself a little on her elbows, and was quite close to 
 him, with her eyes fixed on those of the young man, as 
 though she were seeking to read in them a page that 
 was still new. 
 
 " You are a great child," said she, almost in a whisper, 
 "a great artist, a man of genius, but a child what 
 more must one say to you ? " 
 
 He approached her fascinated; she half closed her 
 eyes and said in a still lower voice : 
 
 " And that is why I love you ! " 
 
 How many others had Cle'opatre told that they had 
 genius? It was her way of convincing them, and it 
 had always succeeded. 
 
MARKOF. 371 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 A ROSE. 
 
 DEMIANE passed the rest of that clay in wandering 
 about on the mountain : he had need of air and 
 of exercise in order to re-establish a sort of equilibrium 
 in his mind. So many diverse impressions were clash- 
 ing together in his brain, so many new sensations made 
 his heart beat and his arteries throb, that he could not 
 return home without having meditated on the new turn 
 his life had taken. 
 
 What overpowered all else in him, what produced on 
 his artistic organization the effect of a discordant note 
 that was held with a cruel and unsatisfied persistence, 
 was a discontent, a disappointment, which he could not 
 overcome. He had thrown at the Princess' feet, all 
 that was most noble, most generous, most elevated in 
 him, during those two hours of intoxication that he 
 had passed in the boudoir of roses; he had poured his 
 Boul, that was overflowing with joy and pride, on the 
 beautiful hands which Cldopatre had allowed him to 
 kiss with a smile of triumph. 
 
 " I will become great through you and for you," he 
 said ; " I will compose a chef-d'oeuvre and write your 
 name upon it ! Thanks to you I shall henceforth be a 
 man; yesterday I was only a child; you have given 
 me everything ! " 
 
 She listened to him without interrupting him, and 
 
372 MARK OF. 
 
 seemed happy ; but just as the clock struck twelve, she 
 had sent away the young artist, in spite of his protesta- 
 tions. While he was bidding her adieu, putting all his 
 love in a word, in a glance, in an embrace, she looked 
 vacantly over his shoulder, and this cold look had 
 frozen Demiane's heart. He felt that it was not she 
 who belonged to him, but he who belonged to her; 
 she had kept herself in reserve, or rather had taken 
 herself back again, and even after those two hours, he 
 felt that he had no more right to her than if he had 
 never entered that boudoir. 
 
 This thought irritated him, and at the same time 
 inspired him with a more ardent desire to pass again 
 another hour such as those he had spent that morning ; 
 but the Princess had promised nothing; everything 
 was left to the chance of circumstance or to Cleopatre's 
 caprice, and Demiane felt humiliated, after having given 
 himself wholly, not to have gained anything in return. 
 
 Nothing ! not even a promise, not one of those words 
 which bind one to another, not even a perfume re- 
 maining in his hair, in his clothes; roses belong to 
 everybody ; in that land of roses, the poorest s-e wing- 
 woman can have them on her work-table. Cleopatre 
 was prudent ; for fear of involuntary indiscretions, she 
 never used any perfume except when she went into 
 public. 
 
 He walked for two or three hours led by chance, and 
 then sat down on a fragment of rock, under the shade 
 of some scant bushes, in a lonely and desolate place. 
 He saw a plain before him, with a dried-up river run- 
 ning through it, whose bed, sown with pebbles, made a 
 
MARK OF. 373 
 
 wide gray furrow in the short grass, that was already 
 turning yellow. He was weary with his wandering, 
 but more weary still with the load that weighed upon 
 his mind. 
 
 "She mistrusts me," he said to himself, clasping his 
 head in his two feverish hands ; " she has accepted my 
 love, and yet she has no confidence. What have I 
 done to lose her esteem? What enemy can have 
 calumniated me ? " 
 
 Raben's distinguished and clever profile passed 
 through his mind, and he trembled, thinking that he 
 had made a discovery. Raben displeased him because 
 he was too intimate with the Princess. While saying 
 to himself that she could never have loved him the 
 diplomatist's forty-eight years seemed so prodigiously 
 old to Ddmiane's twenty-four! he found in the evi- 
 dent intimacy of these two persons enough to feed that 
 need of jealousy that lies at the bottom of every lover's 
 heart. He said to himself that Raben must have dis- 
 paraged him, and he immediately took a dislike to him 
 with that extraordinary discrimination which distin- 
 guishes those who are just beginning life. 
 
 He said to himself, and he repeated it over and over, 
 that the Princess did not love him. But if she did not 
 love him, why had she given herself to him? This 
 problem was not one of those which Ddmiane was capa- 
 ble of solving, and as nothing is more humiliating than 
 to confess to oneself that one is ignorant, he tried to 
 delude himself. 
 
 " She loves me," thought he, " but she is aware of 
 the usual fatuity of young men, and she hides her 
 
374 MARKOF. 
 
 affection from me in order to make me love her the 
 more." 
 
 This conclusion satisfied his self-love, and he declared 
 himself pleased with it. His heart still murmured a 
 little, but Cleopatre was so beautiful, so fascinating, the 
 least word that fell from her lips was so priceless, that 
 he reproached himself for his fancies and took the road 
 to the town in a calmer frame of mind. 
 
 He returned to his lodging, prepared for a lecture, 
 for the night was falling and he had not appeared there 
 during the day; to his great amazement, everybody 
 received him as though he had not left them, without 
 any questions, without any surprise. In spite of his 
 surprise he resigned himself to this amiable reception ; 
 but towards ten o'clock he could not help rushing off 
 to the villa Redine. He found the Princess in full 
 toilette, smiling as she usually did, while he trembled 
 inwardly from his head to his feet, as he touched that 
 hand, which, a few hours before, had caressed his brown 
 curls ; she said good evening to him with the greatest 
 calmness, and ordered the butler to bring him a cup 
 of tea. 
 
 He had certainly thought that she would have some 
 control over herself, but not to this degree ; and that 
 she would affect an indifferent manner, but not with 
 that naturalness ; and the same sadness which he felt 
 in the afternoon passed over him with a cold shiver. 
 Almost directly afterwards his eyes filled with a soft 
 light, and warmth returned to his heart. The Princess 
 wore a rose at her waist one of those roses from the 
 boudoir, without doubt and it was to recall his morn- 
 ing's dream to him. 
 
" M A R K O F . 375 
 
 44 You have too delighted a look, Monsieur Markof," 
 said Cleopatre, carelessly to him, who was remarking 
 him very closely, and who feared some foolishness on 
 the part of this novice in life. " Something very fortu- 
 nate must have happened to you to-day?" 
 
 44 Fortunate in truth, madame ! " he replied, with a 
 trembling in his voice which caused the Princess a 
 great deal of annoyance. 
 
 44 He looks like the poor fellow who plays the lovers 
 at the Theatre Michel ! " thought she, with vexation. 
 44 Mon Dieu ! how stupid he is not to understand." 
 
 44 1 will wager," said Raben, who was observing them 
 both from the depths of his arm chair, and who had 
 made sure that there was 44 something new " from the 
 awkwardness and excitement of the young man, as 
 well as from an expression of bad temper which the 
 Princess's lips had assumed, 44 1 will wager that you had 
 a good receipt yesterday ? " 
 
 44 1 believe so," replied Ddmiane, blushing with anger ; 
 why did that courtier remind him here that he earned 
 his living by his violin. 44 1 know nothing about it, to 
 tell the truth," he continued, 44 it is my brother who 
 attends to all that." 
 
 44 Then the Shah of Persia, our neighbor, must have 
 I sent you a decoration by telegraph," said the Princess, 
 44 for upon my word ! one does not wear a happy look 
 like that for nothing ! " 
 
 She turned her back on him to go and speak to her 
 husband, and Raben approached him indifferently : 
 
 44 1 went to see you a little while ago," said he to 
 I Domiane ; and I did not find you, to my great regret 
 
376 MARKOF. 
 
 there will be a concert given for the benefit of the Cau- 
 casian wounded ; you will be very kind not to refuse us 
 your assistance." 
 
 Demiane bowed in silence, and Raben examined him 
 very closely without his eye-glass. This examination 
 satisfied him, without doubt, for he cut it short and 
 began a conversation on music with the young man, in 
 which he astonished him by the extent of his knowl- 
 edge. Although our friend held himself at a distance, 
 on account of his preconceived idea of seeing an enemy 
 in the diplomatist, he could not help recognizing that a 
 less courteous enemy would have left him to endure 
 Cleop&tre's ill humor ; and if he did not bestow upon 
 him much more sympathy, he could not prevent himself 
 from according him some esteem. 
 
MARKOF. 377 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 DEMIANE IS TOO EXACTING. 
 
 A GENERALLY received opinion gives to every 
 j_X clay a morrow; but Demiane's dream seemed 
 destined to make an exception to this rule, for during 
 three times twenty-four hours he could not succeed in 
 meeting the Princess' eyes, except in the most formal 
 and coldest manner. The sense of independence which 
 was carried to a great degree in the young man, rebelled 
 at this sort of slavery in which Cle'opatre controlled his 
 passion, which had been brought to its climax. And a 
 great deal of irritation began to mingle with Ddmiane's 
 love. 
 
 Certain passions flow peacefully, like the streams in 
 the "pays de Tendre" between pleasant banks, with a 
 few chance obstacles in their way, such as a bank that 
 is steeper than others, the stump of a tree thrown across 
 them, perhaps innocently, which are intended rather to 
 beautify the landscape than to trouble the current of 
 the river ; when such passions overflow, it is in a stream 
 of tears, that do no harm to any one ; with a little 
 cambric and a few kind words, peace is soon made. 
 Ddmiane's love was not of this kind. Still less did he 
 understand submission to the loved woman ; in the 
 republican ideas of this revolutionary person who knew 
 nothing of diplomacy, the Princess, in opening her arms 
 to him, had made him her equal. Henceforth there 
 
378 MARK OF. 
 
 was no longer the Princess Refine and the low- 
 born, penniless violinist; there was Ddmiane and Cle*- 
 opatre, exactly as there had formerly been Daphnis and 
 Chloe. 
 
 This belief might meet with some contradictions; 
 but Ddmiane did not take them into consideration. So 
 on the evening of the third day he wrote the Princess a 
 fiery letter, in which he accused her of making sport of 
 him, and of not having any heart. On the perusal of 
 this singular love-letter, Cleopatre, instead of laughing, 
 slowly drew her brows together, and remained buried 
 in deep meditation. This displeased her ; she had no 
 idea of giving herself a master, no matter who it might 
 be, and least of all, this unknown musician, who for his 
 greatest claim, alleged that he had passed two hours in 
 her boudoir ! Never had such a thing happened to her 
 before in the whole course of her life; but that was 
 because, until now, she had never been loved save by 
 well-bred people, men of the world, who knew exactly 
 what they could say, what they could ask, and what 
 they ought never to exact. 
 
 De'miane was not well-bred ; he had superficially pol- 
 ished himself with civilization. He knew at the most, 
 how to enter a room and how to leave it, how to talk 
 and walk like the rest of the world ; but the undisci- 
 plined boy who had fled from the paternal home, rather 
 than return to the Seminary, reappeared at the least 
 blow and roughly pierced through the worldly envel- 
 ope. It was this element of uncivilization which gave 
 him his originality it was perhaps this which made 
 the Princess distinguish him with her favors; but 
 
MARKOF. 379 
 
 what was a charm might become a danger, and Cle*- 
 opatre, for an instant, repented in great sincerity that 
 she had not foreseen this possibility. It was the first 
 time in her life that she experienced a feeling akin to 
 regret, and she was much surprised at it ; but her new 
 proteg6 had many other astonishments in reserve for 
 her! 
 
 The next morning, bidden as he had been before to 
 go to her at ten o'clock, he was likewise led into the 
 boudoir, where he found the Princess standing, clad in 
 Persian silk of sombre colors, wrapped up to her throat, 
 wearing a haughty look and ready to address him the 
 sharpest lecture about the impropriety of his letter. 
 She expected to see a despondent man, mad with love, 
 appear before her, who would cry her mercy from her 
 cruelty, who would implore her to give him her hands 
 to kiss, which would at last give her the rare and 
 exquisite delight of feeling herself absolute mistress of 
 the unfortunate creature, both of his body and soul. 
 Her expectation was disappointed. 
 
 44 How did you dare to write me that ridiculous 
 letter?" said she as she saw him appear. 
 
 "And you," returned De*miane, "how have you 
 dared to treat me like a stranger, after what has hap- 
 pened here ? " 
 
 She trembled and looked him in the face with the 
 movement of a viper caught in his nest. She met two 
 eyes flaming with anger and which looked as though 
 they did not fear her the least in the world. 
 
 These two looks met for an instant and De*miane's 
 did not falter ; it was not tenderness that he felt for 
 
380 MARKOF. 
 
 her, this woman's soul mattered little to him ; what he 
 wished from her, was what she had before given him, 
 the double intoxication of love and of pride. 
 
 Demiane was so handsome in his threatening attitude, 
 that the Princess had not the courage to maintain her 
 severity towards him. She burst out laughing and sat 
 down in an arm-chair. He seated himself in front of 
 her. 
 
 " You have the worst taste possible, mon cher" said 
 she to him, continuing to laugh. " People do not do 
 such things ! " 
 
 " What do they not do ? To my mind, one has no 
 right to say to a man : I love you ! and then to leave 
 him at the door, for three days, like a dog ! " 
 
 " I would observe to you that you have been received 
 here every evening " 
 
 "In your drawing-room!" interrupted Demiane, 
 shrugging his shoulders, "like your friends, like your 
 Raben, whom I hate " 
 
 " You do so much honor to that dear Count ? And 
 why? Because he is paying attention to Mamselle 
 IMene?" 
 
 Demiane, who was astonished, looked at the Princess 
 with amazement. 
 
 "Do you know nothing about it? They don't tell 
 you every thing, mon cher. Leave him alone then! 
 What can that matter to you ? " 
 
 "It matters nothing to me," he continued, regain- 
 ing his calmness. "You receive me in your drawing- 
 room like a stranger; it is here that I desire to be 
 received." 
 
MARKOF. 381 
 
 " The king says ' we desire,' " said Cle*opatre, in 
 French, with an ironical tone. 
 
 " Your French niceties," replied D^miane, " change 
 nothing in the present case ; I am a Russian, and speak 
 to you in Russ. You are making sport of me, and I do 
 not allow people to do so." 
 
 " Then, do not be ridiculous," said the Princess, 
 smiling. " Is this all that you have to say to me ? " 
 
 "This first!" grumbled De'miane, who felt himself 
 growing weak at the sight of her irresistible smile. 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "And then, that I love you, that you know it well, 
 and that you amuse yourself in torturing me. I 
 have asked myself twenty times, since the other day, 
 if I had not dreamed." 
 
 She nestled herself in her arm-chair, folding her arms 
 and half closing her eyes. 
 
 " That is right," said she, in the sweet and drowsy 
 voice that made her so different from her usual self, " it 
 is best always to believe that one has dreamed " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because one may go to sleep again, and then the 
 dream begins anew." 
 
 Ddmiane, who was half wild, caught her in his arms, 
 and clasped her to him passionately ; but she said noth- 
 ing and continued to smile. 
 
 When she was alone again, the Princess walked two 
 or three times round her boudoir, touching mechanically 
 the things that met her hand, then she stopped before 
 her writing-table and took up a delicately carved ivory 
 paper-cutter which she bent like a supple whalebone 
 
382 MARKOF. 
 
 between her two fingers. This pastime seemed to 
 distract her from her nervous irritation ; but, suddenly, 
 the ivory, which was too much strained, broke with a 
 sharp noise and the two pieces flew in different direc- 
 tions. 
 
 "No," she said to herself, almost aloud, without 
 bestowing a thought upon the pretty, destroyed work 
 of art; "if he puts himself on that footing, it will be 
 insupportable. I will not have it." 
 
 She rang, and they brought her breakfast to her. 
 
M A R K O F . 383 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 INDEPENDENC E. 
 
 DEMIANE, who became calmer in proportion as he 
 grew more accustomed to the strangeness of his 
 situation, began to look about him. Many things that 
 had at first passed unperceived in the tumult of his 
 thoughts, returned to him now, and provoked some 
 serious reflections in him. A word uttered by Cle'o- 
 ptitre during their first interview in the boudoir, had 
 at first astonished, then flattered him, and later, after a 
 more deliberate examination, he had begun to doubt 
 the Princess' perspicuity. 
 
 Helene loved him, she said ? Certainly it did not 
 seem as though she did! For since the memorable 
 evening at the villa Redine, little Helene on the con- 
 trary appeared at all times freer and more independent ; 
 she had not ceased being sweet and obliging, but in her 
 behavior, as well as in her playing, she gave evidence 
 of a more marked individuality. If De*miane had 
 known why such a change had taken place, it would 
 not have failed to have increased still more his antip- 
 athy to Raben ; fortunately he was not aware of it. 
 
 When the diplomatist had made his visit to our 
 friends' house, he had not found Demiane there, who, 
 by the way, he knew was absent. But he had talked 
 for a long time with the three other members of this 
 odd association, who were Bohemian in their ways and 
 
384 M A R K O F . 
 
 bourgeois in their instincts, and he was convinced of the 
 perfect honesty of all of them. In Madame Mianof's 
 presence, who on the occasion had had the courage to 
 sit up straight on a chair for nearly half an hour, he had 
 advised little Helene to overcome her useless timidity, 
 he had persuaded her that she possessed the making of 
 a distinguished pianist in herself, and that she ought to 
 play a solo at the proposed concert for the Caucasian 
 wounded. Vainly did the young girl allege her inex- 
 perience, and even her inability. Raben had not passed 
 twenty years in all the European courts not to know 
 how to overcome such honorable scruples; he secured a 
 promise about her little solo, and withdrew delighted. 
 He felt himself on the road to a good work, or at least, 
 what he was pleased to consider as such, and this 
 employment, which was different from those which 
 until now had won him decorations from every known 
 legation, gave rise to something very sweet and new in 
 his mind. 
 
 If Ddmiane had had no knowledge of this conversa- 
 tion, it was because during the week that had followed 
 it, they had scarcely seen him at home, and when he 
 had deigned to show himself there, it was sometimes 
 with a brow " loaded with care," as they say in trage- 
 dies, sometimes with an exuberance of gayety which 
 left no room for anything except his own conversation, 
 and sometimes with a dignity full of pride, which told 
 his friends how much he was their superior. But when 
 he had balanced his mind, he perceived that little 
 HelSne remained much less with him than formerly, 
 that she practised a great deal more on her piano, and 
 
M A R K O F . 385 
 
 that between the three friends there reigned a sort of 
 tacit understanding, which consisted in doing admirably 
 without his presence, and in making him feel that it 
 was not in the least necessary. 
 
 Victor had invented this way of proving to De*miane 
 that he was in the wrong. But it proved nothing, 
 because wrongs are felt and are not proven, but the 
 young man, who was much piqued at seeing himself 
 thus excluded from the family circle, endeavored to 
 resume his former place in it, the one which the others 
 had allowed him to take, in deference to his talent. 
 
 He found a little resistance that was as delicate and 
 soft as one of those small silk cords with which the 
 Grand Viziers have the honor of strangling themselves 
 by the Sultan's orders. Their faces were always smil- 
 ing, their words always affable, their actions full of 
 affection and forethought, but all this said plainly to 
 him : " You have friends elsewhere, go to your friends, 
 my dear Ddmiane ; your absence does not disturb us at 
 all, oh! not at all; do not force yourself, through 
 politeness, to give us any time which you might better 
 employ." 
 
 Though he tried to prove that his time belonged to 
 himself, that he had no friends elsewhere the small 
 silk cord remained stretched between him and the 
 three others, who seemed, moreover, perfectly happy. 
 
 When they brought him the order for the programme 
 for the concert, so that he might write thereon the 
 names of the pieces he intended to play, he read on it 
 with infinite surprise : " G-rande Polonaise by Chopin, 
 played by Mademoiselle H. Mianof." 
 24 
 
386 MARKOF. 
 
 "You!" said he to the young girl, who with her 
 work in her hands was anxiously awaiting the words 
 that would fall from his omnipotent lips. 
 
 She replied b} 7 a motion, as was her habit. 
 
 " You ? You are not thinking of such a thing ! To 
 play a solo before all those people ! " 
 
 "Do you think I am not capable of it?" she asked 
 with a sort of coquetry, which, though new to her, had 
 none the less charm. 
 
 "I think," he replied, a little displeased without 
 knowing why, " that if you were not capable of it you 
 would not expose yourself to a public fiasco. But you 
 have always protested your repugnance to solos I did 
 not suppose that you had time to change your ideas." 
 
 " It does not take long to change many ideas ! " 
 returned HelSne vivaciously, and blushed immediately 
 at her audacity. 
 
 Dmiane looked at her with an increasing trouble in 
 his mind. Had that little girl divined his feelings for 
 the Princess, or why was she making allusion to a liking 
 she had for him, and which she had overcome enough 
 not to think of it any more? The thought that he 
 might have been loved even by little Helene, and that 
 he was so no longer, was very disagreeable to him. He 
 did not care at all for the little girl, be it understood ; 
 but if, after having loved him, she had allowed herself 
 to take back her heart, it would be manifestly absurd ! 
 What had he done that his accompanist should think 
 less of him ? A most clear examination of conscience 
 proved to him that he had done nothing to make any 
 one in the world think less of him. His feelings for 
 
MARK OF. 387 
 
 Cl^opatre had absolutely nothing to do with those of 
 his friends towards him, that was as plain as the day. 
 
 " What do you mean to say ? " he asked at length. 
 Concluding that this question was perhaps the only 
 means of enlightening himself. 
 
 "Man Dieu!" she replied, very much ashamed at 
 having said so much, " people have ideas and change 
 them, do they not ? It is not a rare thing. It happens 
 to every one, to yourself." 
 
 " There is no question about me ! " continued Ddmi- 
 ane, with the gravity that he had imported from the 
 villa Redine ; " my ideas have not changed, it is yours 
 that have done so." 
 
 So rigorous a procedure was well calculated to 
 disconcert IMene, so she made a desperate plunge 
 which brought her suddenly face to face with a great 
 question. 
 
 " Well, yes ! " said she betraying herself without 
 knowing it, "people sometimes have ideas that are 
 stupid ! They perceive it, and then they do all they can 
 to get them out of their heads, and " 
 
 "And they succeed?" asked Demiane approaching 
 her. 
 
 A sudden interest had taken possession of him at the 
 thought that this poor child might have conceived the 
 heroic idea of struggling against the love with which 
 he had inspired her. And here it was that little Hlene 
 underwent a cruel combat ! To lie seemed odious to 
 her, and, moreover, impossible ; to tell the truth was 
 less odious, but equally impracticable ; she tried twice 
 to pronounce a yes which strangled her, and to stop a 
 
588 MARK OF. 
 
 no that was stifling her ; at length she found without 
 knowing it, a middle term. 
 
 " Yes," said she, boldly, while all her sweet and 
 charming person, her changing blushes, and her eyes, 
 which were asking pardon for the author of this false- 
 hood, said no much louder. 
 
 "Ah!" said Demiane who was strangely moved, 
 " you are brave, Helene." 
 
 " Oh ! no ! " she replied, hastily turning away. 
 
 He remained silent for a moment ; she was brave in 
 all ways, since she used so much courage in defending 
 herself. Poor little one ! He ought to have thought 
 about it ! Of course it would be so ! How could she 
 resist Demiane's daily presence, Dcniiane who led away 
 princesses. At the memory of how he was treated by 
 his pretended conquest, he could not help having a 
 neart-ache. 
 
 44 That is the way I ought to be loved ! " said he to 
 himself. "What a misfortune that all the devotion 
 should be here, and all the rest down there ! " 
 
 " Helene," continued he after an instant, " you are a 
 good creature ; I have a great deal of friendship for you. 
 I did not know you. Now I shall be more just to you." 
 
 She replied a " thank you " that was very feeble and 
 very sweet. 
 
 " You are right," Demiane went on, carried away by 
 his generosity ; " you are perfectly right to wish to play 
 alone ; you must make yourself a name. You must 
 give a concert when you return to Moscow, and I will 
 play for you as you have played for me." 
 
 With the usual greatness of his nature, he held out 
 
MARK OF. 389 
 
 his hand to Hdlfine. He did not know exactly what 
 he expected, but he would not have been surprised to 
 have seen it bathed with tears of gratitude. What was 
 his astonishment to feel it very strongly shaken by lit- 
 tle Helene, who gave him a very hearty grasp, while 
 saying to him in a very joyful tone : 
 
 "Thank you, De'miane, De'miane!" and shaking 
 hands in the English fashion ! 
 
 Nothing but De'miane ! He was so stunned by it 
 that he took his violin and practised scales for at least 
 an hour before he could recover his spirits. 
 
390 MARK OF. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 ANDRE ASKS FOR HELP. 
 
 De*miane : * am not writing to 
 to your brother ; for, in your answer, you for- 
 got one thing: which was to send me your future 
 address. Victor is a practical man, fortunately. Do 
 me the pleasure of telling me how I could have con- 
 tinued the correspondence, if he had not had the bright 
 idea of writing to me a second time, as soon as you 
 reached Piatigorsk! 
 
 " But above everything, permit me to congratulate 
 you on the wonderful chance which has led you into 
 those fortunate regions, at the feet of the most beauti- 
 ful mountains in the world, and at the feet of the most 
 beautiful Princess in the universe 
 
 "There, calm yourself! I will not say anything 
 more about it. You have with regard to that great and 
 good lady, once before desired to eat me up : the lesson 
 will be profitable to me. Let us talk rather of myself. 
 Myself, which is an inexhaustible and charming theme. 
 
 " Imagine, my friend Victor, it is Victor alone 
 whom I am addressing imagine, that my situation 
 has not changed an iota since my last letter. Behold 
 me, turned forever into a china dog, for there is no 
 reason for hoping this will end, on the contrary! 
 Mademoiselle Mouza, the muse, gives proof of a firm- 
 ness of character that is truly admirable. Her absolute 
 
MARKOF. 391 
 
 muteness ends by inspiring me with respect and I shall 
 never have the courage to be the first to break so 
 worthy a silence. Savages are decidedly very superior 
 to us civilized people, who think ourselves great philoso 
 phers because we say over every day from morning 
 until night a long rosary of sentences that are as empty 
 as glass beads. But, O ! Victor, what a service you 
 have rendered me ! Without you, I should have died 
 of an internal hemorrhage of words 
 
 " During the last two weeks, I have had time to go 
 over my domain. How vast it is ! I wore myself out 
 trying to do so on foot. And how beautiful it is too ! 
 I love it as though I had passed a long previous life 
 upon it. My modest house is large enough for me to 
 oe able to shelter you all in it, including the ladies who 
 accompany you and who, perhaps, will do me the great 
 honor of coming here with you. It is built of red 
 brick ; the white plaster covering which formerly spoiled 
 it, has fallen off in places, and that which remains on it 
 has taken the most superb grey tints. In all the rooms 
 of the first story the beaten earthen flooring is as hard 
 as stone, and Mouza spreads hay over it every morning, 
 that is to say bunches of the aromatic herbs of the 
 steppe, whose delicious odor sometimes intoxicates me. 
 Behind the house is a garden full of cherry trees where 
 the nightingales sing ; all around there is a curtain of 
 trees, which is a precious luxury in this country, and 
 around these trees the steppe, the great steppe, which 
 extends on all sides as far as the horizon, like a round 
 table which has not yet been laid, this, in three words, 
 is the new universe where I am living happily, where I 
 
392 M A R K O F . 
 
 shall die perhaps, if Mouza does not drive me away 
 from it by her stillness. 
 
 " I forgot to tell you that in a nook, three or four 
 verstes from my domain, a little village of small white 
 houses is hidden. This village has inhabitants ; these 
 inhabitants have children, and very surly dogs. War 
 is a phenomenon that is as natural as the rain ; it arises 
 from small things, it would arise from nothing at all, 
 rather than not be. The only way to destroy it would 
 be not to have any neighbors. Greece went to war 
 against the Trojans about a woman ; and I have had a 
 quarrel to settle with the village children about a toad. 
 This is how it was : 
 
 "The other day, or rather the other evening, to 
 speak more properly, for the sun had just set, I had 
 gone to take my siesta in the open air, far from the 
 house, in order to rest my ears from little Mouza's piti- 
 less silence. You could not imagine unless you had heard 
 it, what a noise the insects of the steppe make, when 
 the sun is setting, and when one is stretched out on the 
 grass. It is a deafening uproar. You would say that 
 the trumpets of Jericho had all begun to sound at once. 
 Ah! our Gogol is a great poet; he has heard and 
 understood the music of the steppe! His Tarass 
 Boulba could only be the work of a Little-Russian. 
 
 " But he does not love toads enough. Do you know, 
 my friends, a more melodious song than the toad's 
 song? It has only one note, but an exquisite note, 
 that I was incapable of appreciating during my law 
 studies, and which the art of musical-instrument mak- 
 ing has alone rendered me worthy of understanding. 
 This melancholy note produces the effect upon me of 
 
MARKOF. 393 
 
 belonging to a minor scale ; why ? I do not know at all. 
 Demiane can explain it to me, perhaps. It has a pure 
 tone, not silvery, but crystalline, like the sound of a 
 pick-axe on a block of granite when they are cutting it, 
 or like certain light, harmonious notes drawn from the 
 large string of a violin. When the voice of the toad 
 arises in the calm evening air, I have only to close my 
 eyes to feel myself transported into the kingdom of 
 Queen Mab, where one does not find surly dogs, nor 
 boisterous children, nor little dumb girls. 
 
 " Well, then, the other evening, I had finished my 
 siesta and was rubbing my eyes, when I heard, not far 
 from me, something like the clucking of a flock of little 
 turkeys. The barking of a large dog made the bass in 
 this harmonious concert. I turned my head and I saw 
 Mouza standing out in a grey outline against the bright 
 sky, with her arm raised, and threatening with a stick 
 three or four ragged urchins and a monstrous dog. 
 
 " I ran in great haste to know what it was all about, 
 and I heard the following dialogue : 
 
 " ' You shall not touch it, do you hear ! ' 
 
 " 4 Ah ! are you mad ? ' replied the largest boy. 
 
 " 4 Mad or not, I tell you that you shall not touch it.' 
 
 " 4 We will touch it!' 
 
 "'Try and see whether you can!' cried the little 
 amazon. 
 
 " She was as pretty as a pink, with her frowning 
 brows and her tumbled hair. 
 
 "'But toads belong to everybody, the good Lord 
 made them for that.' 
 
 " 4 The good Lord made them for you to leave alone t 
 
394 M A R K O F . 
 
 I do not want you to hurt them ! And besides, that 
 one is on my property.' 
 
 " She said ' my property ' with an accent of conviction 
 that made me tremble. At that moment I reached the 
 scene of warfare, and I perceived behind this odd girl's 
 heels, a toad of quite fine appearance, who must already 
 have received some blow, for it was lying there motion- 
 less and stunned. Without waiting for any further 
 explanation, I picked up a great clod of earth and 
 threw it at the dog, who was barking decidedly too near. 
 He received it in his muzzle and withdrew, howling. 
 To finish my work, I seized Mouza's stick ; seeing which, 
 the boys fled, not without throwing me some Cossack 
 oaths : a kind of oath that is not made of rose-water, I 
 can assure you. 
 
 " Mouza looked at me fixedly, with a half-pleased, 
 half-vexed air. She would, perhaps, have preferred to 
 have come out of the scrape all alone. Without saying 
 a word, she reached out her hand, looking at the stick 
 in a way which seemed to say ; 4 Give it back to me, 
 immediately.' I returned it to her mechanically. 
 Meanwhile the toad had recovered its consciousness, and 
 was disappearing in unsteady bounds. She made s ire 
 that it had no more need of help, and set off quickly 
 towards the house. 
 
 "You imagine perhaps, that after such an epopee 
 peace must have been signed between us. Not the 
 least in the world. Our breakfasts and our dinners are 
 always just as silent as before. She has allowed me 
 two or three times to pour her out something to drink; 
 that is all. What a pity that this droll little girl should 
 have taken in ill-part my arrival on 'her property?' 
 
M A R K O F . 395 
 
 You know, my friends, that I have the bump of profes- 
 sorship: I taught Ddmiane philosophy, the art of making 
 musical instruments to Victor; I would have taught 
 Mouza all that an intelligent woman ought to know, 
 beginning with what the school-master teaches little 
 girls But what would you have me do? She is too 
 large ! She looks like a little woman, and at times, a 
 little Empress ! I do not know how it is, but I feel 
 like a small boy beside her ! 
 
 " All this must end however. This situation cannot 
 last forever. I have now reached the age when people 
 marry ; and how could I bring my wife into a house 
 haunted by this odd imp? It is enough to make one 
 break one's head against the wall ! 
 
 " Here is enough for to-day. If my letter seems long 
 to you, remember that I have no one to speak to, and 
 write to me very soon. 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 ANDRE LADOF. 
 
 "P. S. She has spoken to me! I had just cleaned 
 my gun and was going out, when she stopped me on 
 the threshold : 4 Where are you going ? ' 'I am 
 going shooting.' ' To shoot what ? ' ' Birds, parlleu ! ' 
 4 1 do not wish the little birds to be killed/ 4 Ah ! 
 par exemple ! that is a little too much ! ' cried I. 
 'Then,' this astonishing girl answered me, 'why did 
 you prevent the children from killing the toad?' 
 
 "Finding nothing for an answer, I re-entered the 
 house. I discharged my gun, and put it in a corner. 
 I would like to know what she will forbid me next 
 time ? Hasten to my help with your ladies : perhaps 
 they will succeed in taking her away." 
 
396 MARK OF. 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE ROLES ARE CHANGED. 
 
 HELENE and D^miane were rehearsing a concerto 
 in the large hall of the Bathing Establishment ; 
 they were alone, with all the doors closed, for fear of 
 draughts, which twice already had torn the sheets of 
 music from their desks and made them execute a fan- 
 tastic race under the chairs. Helne laughed over it, 
 but De'miane did not much like to run about on his 
 hands and knees. After all, he was right : a man who 
 passes his time before Princesses' knees, may readily 
 not wish to go down on his own before the empty 
 chairs which were occupied yesterday, which will be 
 occupied to-morrow again, by Madame la Capitaine 
 or Madame la Lieutenante, in other words, by nothing 
 at all ! 
 
 The waiters, after having finished sweeping the upper 
 gallery, pouring the while on the artists, floods of Cau- 
 casian dust, which is not cleaner than any other, had 
 retired, knocking against the glass doors, with the usual 
 carelessness of people who do not pay for the broken 
 glass, and our friends were alone, all alone. Absorbed 
 in their study, neither one nor the other paid any atten- 
 tion to it, nor did they bestow a thought on the garden 
 which stretched before the front doors, with its rich 
 clothing of August flowers, dahlias and chrysanthe- 
 mums, the precursors of the autumnal days which 
 
MARKOF. 397 
 
 [would not now be long in coming. Pages of music 
 succeeded pages, and the two artists seemed to have 
 forgotten that they were not made of steel, and that 
 fatigue is an existing and real state. At length, they 
 reached the final chords, and Ddmiane, putting down 
 his violin on the piano, wiped his brow, saying : " Ugh ! " 
 
 Little Helene looked at him sideways, mockingly, 
 then turned over her music-book and his own, and 
 opened them at the first page to begin again ; this duty 
 accomplished, she allowed herself the relaxation of 
 cracking the little benumbed joints of her red and 
 slender hands. 
 
 " Don't you think it is very warm ? " said Demiane, 
 yawning with a sigh. 
 
 Helene went to one of the doors and fastened it so 
 that it should not be tempted to shut to a hook that 
 was made for this purpose, and returned and sat on the 
 piano-stool. 
 
 " Oh ! pardon me," said the young man, who had 
 jbecome very polite from frequenting such distinguished 
 society, " it is I who ought to have done " 
 
 " And it was I who did it," Helene calmly replied ; 
 " oh ! it makes no difference, I am used to it." 
 
 He looked at her a little surprised: she had not 
 Jaccustomed him to remarks of that kind : he thought 
 Ishe was in a bad humor ; but she was not. She smiled 
 calmly at the garden, which she saw through the 
 'opened door, and executed some very delicate little 
 prills with her right hand high up on the piano keys. 
 
 She had become remarkably pretty. Was it the 
 3 Caucasian table land that suited her temperament, or 
 
398 MARKOF. 
 
 the pure air of the mountains which had given her that 
 slight embonpoint? She was whiter and rosier, in spite 
 of the olive tint of her complexion, and she seemed 
 calm and happy as she had n-ever been before. D^mi- 
 ane could not know that the evening before, little 
 Helene and Madame Moutine had walked together for 
 two hours under the great trees on the Boulevard, and 
 that the young woman had taught the young girl a few 
 of the secrets of life. 
 
 "After having tried strong pepper," she said, "he 
 will return to cream, because it is cream that nourishes 
 one, and that man cannot always live on excitement." 
 
 Besides, if he had heard this unusual kind of conver- 
 sation, he would not have understood much of it, and 
 would have thought it had reference to household 
 recipes for making little cakes, and that probably 
 Valerien had latterly shown a decided taste for spices. 
 
 Since this conversation, Helene felt that a sun was 
 going to rise in her life ; she had passed the night with- 
 out sleeping, and yet she had dressed herself at dawn 
 with a cheerfulness that was not usual to her ; she had 
 looked at her mother sleeping with a tender pity, but 
 had said however, to herself, that her mother was very 
 good and very indulgent, then she set herself to work 
 as she generally did, mending her clothes, refreshing by 
 a few new ruches some almost worn out dresses, and 
 giving to all that her fingers touched that serious and 
 modest look which belonged to Helene. 
 
 As she went over her needlework, she had found in 
 her basket a torn handkerchief, which had great need 
 of a darn, and a pair of much damaged socks. As she 
 
3VIAKKOF. 399 
 
 was about to begin mending them, she stopped, then 
 with a queer smile, she carefully folded up the hand- 
 kerchief, with the tear inside, and prepared the socks 
 ready to be put on, and as ten o'clock struck she had 
 carried these things into Ddmiarie's room, which Victor 
 was arranging, as he always did. 
 
 " Still some more of your work ? " the good fellow 
 said, with a reproachful look. 
 
 With the same smile, and a finger held to her lips, 
 she opened the bureau, and placed the two things which 
 she had brought on the top, so that they should be the 
 first ones taken, then shutting the drawer and leaning 
 her elbows on the bureau, she laughed heartily, and 
 her laugh was musical and frank. 
 
 " What is it ? a surprise ? " said Victor. 
 
 " Yes, a surprise," PIclene replied, as she went away 
 to laugh by herself. 
 
 But Victor was as curious as a cat : he had searched 
 in the drawer, and an instant after he had joined the 
 young girl. 
 
 " I do not understand " said he. 
 
 " He will be furious, will he not? " 
 
 " I am afraid so." 
 
 "And I, hope "so." 
 
 He looked at her more bewildered than ever. 
 
 " You have spoiled him, Helene, he will be furious.'* 
 
 "Well, we will amuse ourselves a little." 
 
 " Do you wish to tease him ? " 
 
 " I wish for him to consider me somebody. And you 
 see, my good friend, if you do not make your services 
 appreciated, no one is grateful to you for them." 
 
400 MARKOF. 
 
 "Oh! Hdlene, I " 
 
 " And," said she delicately laying her hand on Vic- 
 tor's arm, " I do not bring back torn pocket handker- 
 chiefs to you." 
 
 He remained thoughtful for a moment. 
 
 "Suppose we form a plot ? " said he at length. 
 
 " Certainly ! it is agreed." 
 
 Their two heads approached each other and the result 
 of the council was, that they were both merry for the 
 rest of the day. It was this calm merriment that 
 animated Helene's face when Ddmiane took it into his 
 head to look at her, in the large hall of the Bathing 
 Establishment. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? " said he to her with 
 unusual kindness. 
 
 " I am waiting till we begin again," she replied turn- 
 ing towards him her innocent, calm look. 
 
 With a motion of impatience, he took his violin and 
 tuned it. Just as he was about to seize the bow, he 
 stopped and asked his accompaniste : 
 
 "Do you think the concerto does not go well 
 enough ? " 
 
 "I think it does not go at all," replied the young 
 girl as she turned up the corners of her pages ; " you 
 do not come in in time, at the second repetition of the 
 staccato" 
 
 Really ! De*miane laid down his violin. He did not 
 come in in time ! HLene was criticising his playing ! 
 At the bottom of his heart, he knew very well he was 
 not in time, and that was just what annoyed him. A 
 similar circumstance had occurred more than once, and 
 far from making any remarks to him about it, his faith- 
 
MARK OF. 401 
 
 ful accompaniste had hidden these slight defects ; and 
 thanks to her foresight he had even been able to rest 
 himself a little, and to watch less closely over the 
 execution of certain passages Was she going to begin 
 to tutor him now ? He would like to see her ! 
 
 But just as he was about to open his mouth, he closed 
 it and took up his violin haughtity. 
 
 They began, and during three pages, everything went 
 on perfectly ; the most dangerous passage was executed 
 by De*miane with rare perfection, and Helene approved 
 it with a motion of her head, with which, in spite of 
 himself the young man was very much pleased, so 
 pleased in fact, that he took advantage of his triumph 
 to play a doubtful note an instant after. 
 
 ' 4 Aie ! " said Helene stopping. 
 
 "What is the matter?" Demiane muttered. 
 
 " Higher up, your Za." 
 
 Beyond question the la ought to have been higher ; 
 but what difference could that make to Helene ? Would 
 not Ddmiane on the day of the concert know how to 
 play without making mistakes? He said this to her 
 with but little ceremony, and only obtained this in 
 reply : 
 
 " When people allow themselves some carelessness in 
 their practising, they are never sure of making it up 
 before the public. If I practised like that, I would 
 not do you much honor." 
 
 "I believe it!" said Demiane nobly; "but that is 
 not the same thing." 
 
 "I do not know," said Helene, beginning to play 
 again. 
 
 25 
 
402 M A R K O F . 
 
 He had only just time to shoulder his instrument and 
 to seize the melody in its flight. 
 
 He kept himself on his guard, caring little to catch 
 again some other remark of the same kind, when a solo 
 for the piano was reached which was full of expression, 
 and which Hele"ne played admirably, so well indeed 
 that our artist was charmed. 
 
 " How much progress you have made, little Helene ! " 
 said he : " between your way of playing three months 
 ago and that of to-day, there is a world of difference ! " 
 
 She smiled with that enigmatical smile which made 
 her so attractive, and he remained preoccupied while 
 she tinished her solo. 
 
 " It is your turn now," said she, when the time came. 
 
 The artist took up his part; but H61ene played her 
 own too perfectly, so much so that De'miane, who was 
 disconcerted, felt he was losing ground. 
 
 " You play too loud," said he, " you overpower my 
 part with your piano." 
 
 " It is written fortissimo" replied she, pointing out 
 the exact place with the end of her slender forefinger. 
 
 He took up his bow with an angry look, and played 
 with the worst grace possible. Decidedly Helene was 
 becoming tiresome to pay such attention to the least 
 trifles. When they had finished, he carefully arranged 
 his music and his violin while she was doing the same ; 
 and after having accomplished this duty, he turned 
 towards her with a brow like Jupiter's when a little 
 remaining clemency restrains him from hurling forth 
 his thunder. 
 
 "Can you by any chance, Mademoiselle Hel&ie," 
 
M A R K O F . 403 
 
 said he in his most stately tone, " do you pretend to 
 give me a lesson ? " 
 
 " I?" she replied, with a slight start. " Ah ! Heaven 
 is my witness, that I do not wish to give lessons to any 
 one ! But, my dear Ddmiane, is it giving you a lesson 
 
404 M A R K O F . 
 
 She stopped speaking, rolled up her music and shut 
 the piano. 
 
 " But what ? " said Demiane, retaining her by holding 
 her arm. 
 
 He was at once curious and irritated ; he cared but 
 little, in truth, what this young girl without fortune or 
 position thought of him. However, it cost him some- 
 thing to feel a reserve in the opinion she might have 
 about him. 
 
 " Do you wish to know ? " said the little pianist, 
 suddenly turning towards him and looking him full in 
 the face, in spite of the honest blush that covered her 
 own. " Well, I think that you are not careful enough 
 of your dignity ; that at the villa Re'dine they treat you 
 in the evening like a paid violinist, who is asked there 
 to amuse the society ; and that while you believe your- 
 self a guest, like the others, you are only the musician ! 
 And that is not worthy of you, Demiane, and I tell 
 you so." 
 
 The artist would have liked to have informed this 
 little insolent girl what price the Princess paid in the 
 morning for the evening's music, but he did not dare to 
 do so ; however, something in his look spoke for him. 
 
 "Yes, yes," continued Helene, "the the friendship 
 of this noble lady makes you blind with regard to the 
 part that you play at her house ! Has all her friendship 
 for you ever made her take your arm to cross the Bath- 
 ing Establishment garden or to enter the Concert Hall? 
 The friendship which she has for you is a secret friend- 
 ship that she would blush to confess publicly that 
 she would deny to the death if any one spoke to her 
 
M A R K O F . 405 
 
 about it, and that kind of friendship, Demiane, adds 
 nothing to the dignity of a man, on the contrary ! " 
 
 She ended with a sort of stifled sigh, casting her 
 saddened eyes down to the ground. 
 
 The young man, who had nearly burst forth with 
 an angry expression ten times during this little speech, 
 had no reply ready when she had finished. He recog- 
 nized a bitter truth in these cruel words, whose sting 
 he had felt many a time before. Utterly at a loss 
 what to say, he suddenly had an inspiration from on 
 high. 
 
 " You are jealous, Helne," he exclaimed, with the 
 simplicity of a man who knows himself irresistible. 
 
 " Jealous ? of the Princess Redine ? " said Hclene, 
 proudly raising her small head, that was like that of a 
 Greek statue, and looking her friend-enemy in the 
 eyes. " I do not do her that honor," she added, with 
 an accent of incomparable disdain. 
 
 " Helene, you are forgetting yourself! " replied Ddmi- 
 ane, who received the affront to the Princess as though 
 addressed to himself. 
 
 " I think it is you who forget yourself, Ddmiane," 
 returned the young girl, in a calm tone, and without 
 lowering her eyes. " What reason could Mademoiselle 
 Mianof have for being jealous of the Princess Redine ? 
 Between that lady and myself there is a gulf, a gulf 
 which nothing can fill," she continued with sovereign 
 contempt "and across which no bridge can be thrown ! 
 But you, Monsieur Markof, if you are anxious about 
 your honor, look to what they do to you." 
 
 " My honor ! There is, thank God ! nothing to do 
 
406 MAKKOF. 
 
 with that in all this ! " said the young man, with con 
 centrated wrath. 
 
 " Do you think so ? Well then, Monsieur Markof, if 
 you think so, continue to live as you are doing ; if you 
 do not see that they treat you at the villa like a trained 
 dog " she continued, paying no attention to Demi- 
 ane's irritated gesture " it is your own affair ; but for 
 our part, we, who have a share in your dignity, will 
 keep ourselves at a distance from your glory, we will 
 try to live so far apart from it, that they cannot mix 
 up our lives with yours, until the day, when weary of 
 it, you will return to us, who are your true friends, 
 and whom you now do not recognize as such." 
 
 " I think, Helene, you have lost your mind ! " said 
 Demiane, who was exasperated. 
 
 " Do you wish to be sure of what I say to you ? On 
 the evening of the next concert, you will be in all your 
 glory, will you not. Their Highnesses will have con- 
 gratulated and complimented you. Try and say to the 
 Princess that you are tired, and that you do not wish to 
 play in her drawing-room, and you will see how she will 
 treat you. Offer her your arm to return to her home, 
 and yqu will see again. Be free, and talk to her as the 
 other young men do, and you will see whether she does 
 not put you in your place ? " 
 
 " My place ! " 
 
 " The one that in the eyes of the world, to which she 
 belongs, you should occupy towards her. She does not 
 Love you, Ddmiane, she pretends to love you ! " 
 
 " What do you know about it ? " muttered the latter, 
 who was irritated to torture by that voice which ex- 
 
MARK OF. 407 
 
 plained so clearly to him the cause of his dumb anger 
 and secret rage. 
 
 " Because that is not the way that people love. No 
 elevated feeling, no matter by what name it is desig- 
 nated, takes pleasure in leaving in an humiliating ob- 
 scurity the friend that it has voluntarily chosen for 
 itself." 
 
 He looked at her with a bad hidden thought. 
 
 " You talk knowingly about these things," said he, 
 " who has taught you your knowledge ? " 
 
 "Grief!" replied Hdlene, passing proudly in front 
 of him, " the grief of undeserved offenses, and the 
 sweetness of pardon," she added in a lower tone as she 
 went out of the door into the garden. 
 
 He wanted to run after her, to have a quarrel with 
 her, to call her names, and perhaps to shake her a little 
 by the arm, without looking too much as though he 
 were beating her ; he wanted also to make her explain 
 herself ; he would have given a great many things and 
 a great deal of money to have made her confess that 
 she loved him; but he agreed with himself that the 
 above-mentioned means were not the kind that are 
 commonly employed to obtain an avowal of that sort, 
 and, vexed and furious, he returned to his home. 
 
 The first pocket-handkerchief that fell under his 
 hands was the one which Helene had carried back to 
 him that same morning. He took advantage of this 
 happy circumstance to quarrel frightfully with Victor, 
 who listened to him with a placid air while stuifing 
 Turkish tobacco into cigarette moulds, and who an- 
 Bwered not a word. 
 
408 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 HELENE'S BOUQUET. 
 
 DURING the following two weeks, Demiane nursed 
 his anger in every way. Twice the Princess had 
 sent him word not to go to her in the morning at ten 
 o'clock, and the third time it was he who gave himself 
 the royal pleasure of informing her that he should not 
 go. This last trait of character seemed to him worthy 
 of Plutarch, and to put a little balm on his aching pride, 
 he sat down in a corner and gloriously wove for him- 
 self a small crown of laurel. Myrtles did not seem to 
 him to be in season, and for roses, he began to feel 
 but a moderate esteem since he had seen that the 
 Princess wore or did not wear them, according to her 
 caprice whether they had seen each other on the 
 morning of the day or not. Once he begged her to 
 wear one of these flowers in her dress in the evening in 
 memory of their interviews, and Cleopatre had laughed 
 a great deal at this sentimental extravagance. 
 
 " Ah ! mon cher" this truly superior woman said, 
 " do not be sentimental, I beg of you ; nothing is more 
 ridiculous, nor better calculated to displease me ! " 
 
 "You always talk about displeasing you," replied 
 Demiane, " and you never dream of asking yourself if 
 something may not displease me ! " 
 
 "You?" said the Princess, haughtily; "have you a 
 right tc find anything displeasing in me ? " 
 
M A R K O F . 409 
 
 "In what way, Princess?" the sullen young man 
 said. 
 
 Instead of replying, Cldopatre had passed her delicate 
 and soft hand over his eyes, and the quarrel was at 
 once ended. But the Princess was very much annoyed 
 with this private warfare. " Those plebeians have no 
 knowledge of life," she said to herself; "they are ter- 
 ribly ill-bred, and no one will catch me with them 
 again." 
 
 This was why she had made the interval between 
 the interviews in the boudoir longer and longer. But 
 if Demiane were to dare to cease to come to her she 
 would have to regain her empire over him, even were 
 the power thus regained by bravado to last but one day. 
 
 On the morning of the day 'fixed for the " musical 
 solemnity for the benefit of the Caucasian wounded," 
 Cleopatre on waking, said to herself that the occasion 
 would be a favorable one for recalling this young 
 Ma-rkof who was decidedly too independent to the 
 true principles of good breeding, and she begged him 
 to go to her. 
 
 When he received this communication, Dcmiane was 
 busy about his afternoon's toilette the Concert was 
 to take place at two o'clock and he was selecting, 
 not without some trouble, a cravat from among quite a 
 fine collection of little pieces of tumbled cambric. 
 Helene, who was in the next room ironing with a great 
 deal of care some small pieces of lace, said nothing. 
 Just as the messenger entered, she spoke to Victor, 
 saying : 
 
 "Bring me your two cravats, I will iron them a 
 little." 
 
ilO MARKOF. 
 
 Victor hurriedly seized them both and presented 
 them to this modest benefactress. A look exchanged 
 between them, told them of their mutual anxiety; 
 without knowing why, they dreaded this messenger, 
 who seemed to forbode no good. De*miane read the 
 letter, and looked at his watch, then hesitated for an 
 instant, and after having cast a furtive glance into the 
 next room, where his friends, who were motionless, 
 were awaiting his decision, said : 
 
 " Beg the Princess to excuse me. I must be in the 
 Concert Hall in two hours, I cannot comply with 
 her " He sought for the word, and then with some 
 emphasis, concluded : " her commands." 
 
 The careless messenger withdrew, and Demiane, 
 carrying his head higher than usual, went to join the 
 two young people. 
 
 " Will you say again, Helene, that I am a man with- 
 out dignity?" said he with a grand and self-satisfied 
 air. 
 
 She looked at him furtively, and smiled, made a mo- 
 tion with her head which was with her a sign of satis- 
 faction, and then to palliate what there might be too 
 flattering in this approbation, she calmly replied : 
 
 " One swallow does not make a summer." 
 
 " What must you have then ? " said the artist. 
 
 " A whole flock of swallows ! " answered Helene with 
 her mysterious smile. 
 
 " I am very stupid," thought Derniane within him- 
 self, "to bother myself about what she thinks! " 
 
 Poor Demiane was one of those who cannot do with- 
 out the approbation of others ; that was his weakness, 
 
MARKOF. 411 
 
 but that also was the hope of those who loved him, for 
 this desire for approbation would bring him back to 
 them some day or other. Victor who had a naturally 
 compassionate soul, went to join his brother to have 
 a little conversation with him in order to reward him 
 for his fine conduct. This was what between Helene 
 and himself they called " temporarily raising the quar- 
 antine." 
 
 The hall was full. Raben was conspicuous in the first 
 row of chairs, with the newest of all his eye-glasses; 
 the concert began ; several artists of the orchestra of 
 the Bathing Establishment brought the tribute of their 
 talent to the Caucasian wounded ; Helene played the 
 Grande Polonaise and was recalled twice amid the most 
 extraordinary enthusiasm. She was so pretty that she 
 seemed to radiate light around her. Demiane pre- 
 sented himself, bowed to the public, was applauded, 
 bowed again and was re-applauded, and then bowed 
 once more, shouldered his violin and looked around the 
 hall. The Princess was not present at the concert. 
 
 " Yes, my handsome friend, so it is," Raben seemed 
 to say to him who was looking at him with curious 
 eyes : " you wished it, war is declared ! " 
 
 Demiane possessed when it was necessary, an heroic 
 soul : he made a sign to Helene and they played the 
 concerto as they had never played anything in their 
 lives before. 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! " cried Raben half rising to applaud. 
 Nearly all the hall followed his example ; their High- 
 nesses bestowed their compliments on the two artists with 
 the most gracious smile, and three bouquets, which had 
 
412 MARKOF. 
 
 been ordered after the Polonaise, successively reached 
 Helene, who did not know what to do with them anc 1 
 would have much preferred not to have received any 
 thing than to have been thus complimented at Demi 
 ane's expense. 
 
 When they had retired into the artist's drawing-room, 
 our friend, who was a little bewildered with so many 
 diverse emotions, wiped his brow with a handkerchief, 
 which that day was not a torn one, and turned towards 
 Helene to cover his embarrassment. The Princess' 
 absence was, in truth, a declaration of war ; but he had 
 provoked it, and now he asked himself if Cleopatre's 
 love, that was so strange, so intoxicating, so little like 
 any of which he had ever dreamed, was not going to 
 escape him. This idea so filled his heart, that in lieu of 
 something better, he was just perhaps, going to ask 
 little Helcme what she thought of this extraordinary 
 absence, when the latter gently laid her pretty little 
 hand on our hero's arm, who mechanically cast his eyes 
 on what she was holding in her other hand, then raised 
 them again to his friend's eyes, for it is always in the 
 eyes that one seeks for the explanation of a mystery ; 
 it was one of the bouquets which she had just received, 
 that she held. 
 
 " Do you remember," said Helene with a voice whose 
 exquisite sweetness made one think of certain perfumes 
 of oriental flowers, that are as delicate and penetrating 
 as a breath of spring ; " do you remember, Demiane, 
 that you sent me my first bouquet? " 
 
 He suddenly recalled the great empty drawing-room, 
 the grand piano, the fragrant bouquet in its vase and 
 
MARKOF. 413 
 
 the beginning of this strange friendship which had all 
 at once, given him a sort of family relation. 
 
 " Yes," said he with a joyous tone. That time was 
 far, very far away, and still hardly more than a few 
 months really separated him from it ; but his present 
 existence seemed to him as though his temples were 
 bound in an iron band when he compared it to that 
 happy time. 
 
 " One cannot give flowers to men," continued He'le'ne, 
 with a smile full of feeling that played about the cor- 
 ners of her mouth, perhaps to check the tears that*were 
 ready to rise in her heart ; " I cannot offer you these 
 bouquets ; but they are yours Demiane, wholly yours ; 
 take a little sprig of green, some little thing, as an em- 
 blem of all the rest, which belongs to you." 
 
 She did not think it either sentimental or ridiculous, 
 this little Helne ! to give him a souvenir of this day, 
 Demiane extended his hand towards the bouquet, broke 
 off a sprig of myrtle and smelt of it, and put it in 
 his side pocket, and felt no more need of answering 
 his young friend than the latter felt of saying anything 
 further to him. 
 
 They stood thus, one in front of the other, both look- 
 ing at the flowers that said so many and such different 
 things to them ; then their looks met, and they ex- 
 changed a smile that was as furtive and as full of feel- 
 ing as a kiss. She turned away her eyes, but Demiane 
 continued looking at her. The sight of this good and 
 pure young girl did him wonderful good ; it seemed to 
 plunge his soul into a Lethean bath, in associating in 
 his mind the memories of Jaroslav and those of the 
 present time. 
 
414 MARKOF. 
 
 I should be very sad without her," said he to him- 
 self suddenly : " in the fever whieh I have caught hero 
 she has been the spring of pure water that has refreshed 
 me. I thank you Helene," said he, simply, thus ter- 
 minating his thought aloud. And without knowing 
 why, moved by a desire to express his gratitude better, 
 lie raised the little pianiste's eool hand to his lips, kissed 
 it respeetfully, and then pressed it to his moist e\ 
 
 She looked at him surprised: then an indeseribable 
 joy transfigured her faee : and she pressed her bouquet 
 elose to her breast and left the artist's drawing-room. 
 
 B 
 
 An instant later Raben entered and went straight 
 towards Demiane. 
 
 k * The Prineess is a little indisposed," said he with 
 that ease of manner whieh the young artist envied so 
 much? she eommissioned me to beg you to eome this 
 evening and play some musie with Madamoiselle Helene. 
 Where is Mademoiselle Helene ? I thought I saw her 
 here an instant ago." 
 
 " Mademoiselle Mianof has returned home without 
 doubt," said Demiane in a grave tone ; " I do not know, 
 monsieur, whether we ean go this evening." 
 
 fc * Try to do so, my friend, do your best ; you have 
 refused several times to go to the Princess, she told me 
 so." 
 
 "She told you so?" repeated Demiane who was infi- 
 nitely surprised. 
 
 "She told me so ! what is there astonishing in that ?" 
 said Raben with marvellous sang-froid. " You would 
 not like to quarrel with her; she has a great esteem for 
 your talent ; she has even used the word genius in 
 
MARKOF. 415 
 
 speaking of you. Come, I beg of you. in her name and 
 my own, if my voice can have any influence with you." 
 
 " Very well, monsieur, we will go," replied D^miane, 
 affecting the same coolness as Raben, while this event 
 filled him with a mad joy. The Princess begged him 
 to go to her after his morning's refusal ; she, therefore, 
 confessed herself conquered I With the moderation 
 usual to his age, he determined to abuse the superiority 
 she had accorded him, and on returning to his home, he 
 told Helene of this invitation. 
 
 " As you please, my friend," she replied ; and they 
 exchanged only a few insignificant remarks until the 
 evening. 
 
416 MARKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XL VIII. 
 
 INSULT AND SEPARATION. 
 
 npHE drawing-room was more brilliantly lighted than 
 X usual, the servants less respectful, and the service 
 more noisy ; through the open doors and windows blew 
 a slight breeze, making the leaves and flowers, which 
 were placed in large vases, tremble, and which gave 
 them a restless look that was in harmony with all the 
 rest. The Prince, who had come into the drawing-room 
 immediately after dinner, wore a very animated expres- 
 sion ; during the repast he had spoken several times, 
 thus provoking the curiosity of his guests and the 
 anxiety* of his wife, who thought him astonishingly 
 excited, and hardly was he installed in his customary 
 place, than he had imperiously asked for two very dif- 
 ferent things, but which comprised all happiness for 
 him : music and ices. 
 
 Cleopatre had given orders to serve him the latter 
 with moderation, and had promised him that he would 
 not have to wait long for the pleasure of hearing the 
 other. For she had, in truth, invited for that evening 
 not only De*miane, but most of the artists who had taken 
 part in the concert. This was the mortification which 
 she had planned to punish the young man for his pre- 
 sumption, and " to put him back in his place." 
 
 Monsieur and Madame Moutine, who had been invi- 
 ted several times, had limited themselves until then to 
 short afternoon visits ; but they also felt that things 
 
MARKOF. 417 
 
 were coming to a crisis without knowing why. The 
 kind of nervous thrill which runs through all the mem- 
 bers of one society when some moral storm is preparing, 
 had taken possession of them as well as of the others, 
 and it was the physician who had made his wife decide 
 to accompany him, "to keep little Hdlene company." 
 
 Cleopatre had never been as beautiful as she was that 
 evening. Raben, who had dined at the villa, could not 
 help remarking the brilliancy of her eyes, and the 
 changing color in her cheeks, which gave her a more 
 excited air than usual ; from time to time a slight 
 tremor of anger or of impatience passed over her, and 
 made the pendants that hung on a curious bracelet 
 which she often wore, tremble. Her white silk dress, 
 that was made of a lustreless and heavy material that 
 fell in thick folds, moulded her superb form in the Ori- 
 ental fashion, and was only caught up very low down 
 by a winding scarf. This new way of dressing herself, 
 \vhich no one had dared to adopt until then, won cries 
 of admiration for her from nearly all the men, and 
 some half-flattering, half-alarmed remarks from the few 
 women who composed her society, not one of whom 
 would have dared to express the least disapproval of it. 
 
 Raben alone, who had not given up the idea of mar- 
 rying her when the Prince's death would leave her free, 
 allowed himself, as her eventual husband, to express 
 some words of criticism. 
 
 " You are too beautiful," he said to her in a low voice, 
 when she appeared in the doorway, throwing out her 
 wonderful profile against the dark material of the cur- 
 tains. 
 
 26 
 
418 MARKOF. 
 
 She looked at him with a proud smile, in which a sort 
 of interrogation was mingled. 
 
 " You are too beautiful for every one to see," he con- 
 tinued ; " a man who loved you would prefer that you 
 would be as handsome as this for himself alone." 
 
 " Beauty is power, Raben ; I think I have already 
 told you so," she answered, passing in front of him. 
 
 Wearing only white, with gold ornaments, a massive 
 gold comb in her hair, and on her arms bracelets of 
 pure gold, which were almost rude in their form, 
 Cle'opatre could successfully challenge any other won- 
 der in dress ; for no one saw anything else save herself 
 in her drawing-room, which was, however, so rich, since 
 she entirely filled it with the incomparable radiance of 
 her beauty. 
 
 The guests began to arrive ; Valdrien and his wife 
 had the honor of an especially gracious reception ; after 
 having installed Groucha in a comfortable and well- 
 placed arm-chair, the young physician had gone and sat 
 down beside the Prince, whom he had examined for 
 rather a long time. The old man had talked to him 
 with the new loquacity which seemed strange to those 
 who knew him, and on leaving him, Valerien had 
 forbidden his servant to give him any more sweets that 
 evening. " Especially no ices," he said : and then he 
 went to mingle with the other guests. Valerien knew 
 how to make himself a particular place, wherever he 
 went the place of a man whom nothing can injure, 
 who has need of no one, and of whom every one may 
 have need. 
 
 The invited artists had come ; they had already 
 
M A R K O F . 419 
 
 played a little music, but De*miane did not appear. The 
 Princess, beckoning to Raben, made him approach her. 
 
 " Did you tell him ? " said she, with a nervous trem- 
 bling in her lips which grew pale, in spite of the effort 
 of her will to prevent it. 
 
 " Yes, Princess ; do I not do all that you tell me ? " 
 
 " Did he understand ? " 
 
 " He certainly understood, madame, at least, as much 
 as you desired he should understand, perhaps even 
 more." 
 
 She looked at Raben with a sort of fierceness that 
 well suited her thin face and her strange attire. 
 
 44 What do you mean ? " said she, fixing her cruel 
 eyes on those of the diplomatist. 
 
 44 Nothing that you are not capable of having thought, 
 Princess." 
 
 She was going to reply, when a movement at the 
 door made her turn her head away. She was wild with 
 impatience, and yet she made this motion with a noble 
 dignity which Raben admired with all his heart. She 
 was made to wear a crown, and under that crown to 
 receive all homage as well as all affronts, still pre- 
 serving her smile of haughty kindness. 
 
 44 What an ambassadress you would make ! " said he 
 to her, in a whisper. 
 
 She had heard him, and he divined it from a slight 
 movement of her arm ; but she said nothing, and con- 
 tinued looking at the door. 
 
 Demiane had just entered, looking extremely pale in 
 his white cravat, but with his head carried high and 
 with a confident look; the glance of these two persons, 
 
420 MARK OF. 
 
 who had every reason for adoring each other, met with 
 absolute indifference, which, under the existing circunir 
 stances, was the most outrageous of challenges. 
 
 " Good-evening, Monsieur Markof," said the Princess 
 in her clear voice, without making a movement ; " we 
 are waiting for you. Well ! and Mademoiselle Helne ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle Mianof must have come here some 
 moments ago, Madame," replied^ Demiane, bowing be- 
 fore her with respect. 
 
 It was true. Little Helene had entered quietly with 
 some other ladies, and without making any noise had 
 slipped in near to Madame Moutine. 
 
 The eyes of the guests sought the young girl, and this 
 movement of curiosity brought a slight rosy tint to her 
 cheeks. She rose and went straight to the Princess, 
 irreproachable in her modesty, and wortlry of all respect. 
 She was dressed in pale blue, that was as pale and as 
 sweet as the forget-me-nots which she wore in her hair 
 and carried in her hand. These humble brook-flowers, 
 that were grouped in her superb hair in thick masses, 
 were made for her, as she was made to do them honor. 
 
 " You did not come together ! " said the Princess, 
 with that smile that excused the greatest impertinences 
 as they fell from her mouth, for no one ever knew 
 whether she was in jest or not. "I thought you 
 scarcely ever left each other." 
 
 "Mademoiselle Mianof has made herself an inde- 
 pendent place to-day in the esteem of artists and of 
 the public," replied Demiane valiantly, who was piqued, 
 one could not say why, at Cle'opatre's remark. 
 
 "They told me so just now," the latter answered 
 
MAHKOF. 421 
 
 carelessly, letting the challenge fall ; " I congratulate 
 you, Mademoiselle. I was not able to hear you, I regret 
 it." 
 
 Hdldne bowed and answered nothing, to the great 
 scandal of the ladies, who looked at each other. That 
 little musician should have replied by placing herself at 
 the service of the lady of the house. Was it possible 
 to have so little manners ! 
 
 " Some music ! " said the Prince in a hoarse and hesi- 
 tating voice, which was not at all natural to him, who 
 spoke seldom but with a great deal of distinctness. 
 
 These words removed the difficulty of the situation. 
 
 "Do you hear, Mademoiselle?" said the Princess, 
 with the same smile. 
 
 Helene laid down her bouquet on the piano, took off 
 her gloves and began to play. 
 
 A great silence fell upon the large room, so great 
 that they distinctly heard a light breeze pass over the 
 leaves in the garden ; the flame of the candles trembled 
 above their crystal supports, then calm was re-estab- 
 lished, and some sounds that were so delicate, so soft 
 that they seemed to float in the very atmosphere, arose 
 in the drawing-room. After an instant's attention, 
 every one understood that he was going to enjoy one of 
 those delights in pure Art which may be experienced 
 two or three times in an existence, and which make an 
 era in life. 
 
 D^miane had retired a little, and as he stood leaning 
 against the door of an adjoining drawing-room, he lis- 
 tened to what Helene was playing, and thought he 
 heard it for the first time. By degrees he let himself 
 
422 MARK OF. 
 
 be cradled by his revery, he forgot Cleopatre and the 
 struggle begun, closed his eyes and thought that the 
 young girl, playing for him alone, was relating a story 
 to him which it seemed to him he already vaguely 
 knew. 
 
 It was the story of a resigned, but still young and 
 ardent heart, who, in the obscurity of a poor and joy- 
 less life, was ignorant of everything, save Art and the 
 enjoyments it procures; to this humble heart, that was 
 contented with little, each day was pleasant, provided 
 it brought no sorrow with it, and the sighs which it 
 sometimes let escape were not those of envy or regret, 
 but those of a melancholy which had no bitterness. 
 Suddenly, with a few flowers, the sunshine had entered 
 into this soul, but an April sunshine, which was often 
 veiled by clouds, so often, that at times it would have 
 preferred to have been ignorant of the sun and the 
 trouble which its rays had brought forth. Then had 
 come austere work which consoles for everything, that 
 was but little rewarded but yet rich in solemn sweet- 
 ness, and a new struggle, no longer with poverty, but 
 with the enemy, the enemy of happiness, the one that 
 wished to banish the sunshine from this existence ; oh ! 
 then, the wounded heart had found weapons, noble 
 weapons, of the kind which one bears openly, and be- 
 hold now, powerful and as proud as the eagle that beats 
 his wings above the summits of the Caucasus, the vic- 
 torious soul hovered in the ether and sang its triumph ! 
 Yes, its triumph, De*miane ; but to place in your loved 
 hands the palms of its victory, or rather the sprig of 
 myrtle which, still green and perfumed, embalmed your 
 
M A R K O F . 423 
 
 note-book in the pocket of your dress-coat, that sprig 
 of myrtle, which was the symbol of little Helene's 
 whole life, which had been formerly disdained, and 
 which to-day unveiled itself as a greater artist and a 
 greater soul than yourself. 
 
 He opened his eyes, and a thunder of applause, for 
 which the Princess, with perfect good taste, had given 
 the signal, awakened him from his dream. With 
 twenty other people he approached the piano ; but 
 Hdlene was too much surrounded to be able to perceive 
 him ; in an absent way, he took up the bouquet of for- 
 get-me-nots, and plunged his burning face into it to 
 breathe its moist freshness. The rustle of heavy silk 
 made him turn round brusquely, and he saw the Prin- 
 cess slowly enter the long line of drawing-rooms that 
 jed to her boudoir. He rushed after her at once, and 
 joined her in a moment. She did not seem to have 
 heard the noise of his footsteps ; he called to her softly. 
 
 " Princess ! " said he. 
 
 She turned round. 
 
 " What do you want ? " she said, in her indifferent 
 tone. 
 
 They were alone ; the crowd was stifling in the large 
 drawing-room ; some old generals, who were desperate 
 players, of the kind that would play on their death- 
 beds, were playing some games of preference in an ad- 
 joining drawing-room, and the rest of the villa was 
 deserted. The Princess threw a glance down the long 
 line of lighted rooms, and assured herself that no one 
 could hear them. 
 
 u Well, what do you want ? " she repeated, looking 
 Demiane this time in the face. 
 
424 M A R K O F . 
 
 " You cannot receive me when I ask you to do so," 
 said the latter, impelled by an increasing anger ; " you 
 do not love me any more." 
 
 " I might have received you this morning," returned 
 the Princess, calmly. "It was you who refused, I 
 return your assertion to you." 
 
 " You do not love me any more," repeated Ddmiane, 
 who was too much irritated to allow himself to be 
 diverted from his sole thought ; " you are tired of me." 
 
 "Those are things which are not said, monsieur, 
 between well-bred people," replied Cldopatre, with an 
 accent of provoking disdain. 
 
 " But between well-bred people they can be thought, 
 can they not ? provided they do not utter them ? With 
 you appearances save everything." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Monsieur Markof, do not have a scene 
 with me^ I beg of you ! Nothing is more tiresome and 
 more useless." 
 
 " Then," said Demiane, stretching forward his arm 
 violently, to seize her by the liand, " you do not love 
 me any more ?" 
 
 " And who told you that I have ever loved you ? " 
 returned Cldop&tre, drawing back a little, but looking 
 him full in the face. 
 
 Demiane drew back in his turn ; this blow was so 
 unexpected that it found him defenceless. A sort of 
 horror entered into his soul, and he did not wish to 
 believe the evidence of his own senses. 
 
 "You have not loved me," he repeated, slowly. 
 " But if you did not love me " 
 
 Cldopatre shrugged her shoulders and wished to pass 
 him ; Ddmiane barred the passage to her. 
 
MARK OF. 425 
 
 "If you have not loved me," said he, brutally, "why 
 have you received me there ? " 
 
 He pointed to the door of the boudoir, which was at 
 a little distance. The Princess shrugged her shoulders 
 again, and, instead of pursuing her way, she returned, 
 without hastening, towards the drawing-room. 
 
 " If you have not loved me, why am I here ? why " 
 
 "Why?" returned Cleopatre, measuring him with 
 superb contempt, "to play the violin, my dear Mon- 
 sieur Markof." 
 
 Struck to the heart, Demiane stood motionless and 
 stunned, mechanically listening to the noise which the 
 long silk train made as it swept slowly away with a regu- 
 lar movement. When the Princess reached the large 
 drawing-room and he had seen her disappear among the 
 guests, he came back to himself and rushed after her. 
 She was already seated in an arm-chair and was talking 
 with her usual grace. In the door of the card-room, he 
 met Raben who put his hand on his arm : 
 
 " No scandal," said the diplomatist to him, in a very 
 low but firm tone ; he had divined the preceding scene 
 from the little he had been able to observe from a dis- 
 tance. " A scandal would be the ruin of you." 
 
 " I am not afraid of anything ! " said Ddmiane 
 proudly. 
 
 " Bah! it is a great deal better to live in peace, happy 
 and honored " 
 
 De'miane qast down his head ; the word " live " made 
 him shudder. He followed Rabeii into the. drawing- 
 room, and found himself near Hlene who for a moment 
 had been looking for him, with an anxiety which she 
 
426 MARKOF. 
 
 scarcely knew how to dissimulate. He saw her, but 
 vaguely, his eyes that were blinded by a desire for 
 vengeance, only perceived the shimmer of the Princess' 
 heavy white silk dress, with its clinging folds, as she 
 sat in her arm-chair. 
 
 "Another ice ! " said the Prince very loudly, who had 
 taken advantage of his wife's disappearance to stop a 
 waiter passing before him and to have himself helped 
 abundantly by a servant who was ignorant of the phy- 
 sician's orders. 
 
 Cle'opatre rose hastily, addressed a few words of 
 reproach, consolation and tenderness to her husband, 
 and after having calmed him, she returned to her 
 guests. The animation of the soire'e, which had been 
 BO great, seemed to languish. On meeting De'miane's 
 eyes that were steadily fixed on her with a mixture of 
 stupor and indignation, an idea that was worthy of 
 her struck her mind. 
 
 " It is your turn now, Monsieur Markof," said she, 
 " a little music, if you please." 
 
 Her voice which was as clear as a clarion made the 
 Prince tremble, and he sat motionless, looking at her 
 with his mouth half-open. All eyes were turned towards 
 the young violinist. 
 
 "Will your Highness excuse me," replied Demiane 
 in a voice that was equally clear and aggressive. " I 
 am fatigued from the morning's concert." 
 
 "Do you refuse me?" said Clopatre ; slightly re- 
 treating. 
 
 He bowed respectfully ; all his calmness had returned 
 to him ; and he now felt master of himself, for he had 
 taken his revenge. 
 
MARKOF. 427 
 
 " It is not a refusal, your Highness, it is a prayer." 
 
 " I did not know that you were so easily discouraged," 
 returned the Princess wickedly ; " it is since Mademoi- 
 selle Helene's great success that you refuse to let 
 yourself be heard ! " 
 
 The entire company trembled. Demiane's eyes shot 
 forth a gleam ; then suddenly joy overspread his face ; 
 he seized Helene's hand, who, wounded to her heart, 
 was looking at him with anguish. 
 
 " I could not be jealous," said he, " of Mademoiselle 
 Mianof s talent, for in a short time she is going to 
 become my wife." 
 
 "Bravo!" said Raben advancing towards him to 
 shake his hand. His example was followed by a great 
 many good people who did not suspect the least in the 
 world, the heroism of which their musical-leader had 
 ust given proof. 
 
 Cle'opatre had almost imperceptibly drawn back 
 again, and her hand rested on the back of her hus- 
 band's arm-chair. For the first time in her life she 
 was conquered, and the shock staggered her. 
 
 "He he is going to marry her?" stammered the 
 Prince pulling her by the dress. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, yes, he is going to marry her," 
 replied Cleopatre with instinctive solicitude. 
 
 "Present him present him my congratulations " 
 continued the old man persistently. 
 
 Slowly Cleopatre approached the group which sur- 
 rounded the young people, and which opened before 
 her. 
 
 "I offer you my congratulations," said she in her 
 
428 MARK OF. 
 
 ringing voice, "and the Prince begs me to bear his 
 congratulations to you. But one sees plainly that you 
 are an artist, Monsieur Markof, for you are fond of 
 theatrical surprises nothing had made us foresee this 
 happy ending." 
 
 The Princess' clear and disdainful laugh rang through 
 the apartment, but without finding an echo. 
 
 " It is not so extraordinary," said Raben, thus pre- 
 venting an answer which would, perhaps, have been 
 sharper from Ddmiane's side ; " such a charming 
 couple " 
 
 " Oh ! Count, you are romantic," said Cldopatre with 
 indescribable contempt. 
 
 At this moment Valerien Moutine approached the 
 Princess, while his wife was taking Helene aside. 
 
 "Dismiss your guests, Madame," said the physician 
 in a low voice, "the Prince is not well, I fear he is 
 going to have an attack." 
 
 Cleopatre turned eagerly to her husband. For him 
 alone she could depart from her apparent calm. Let 
 the world crumble, it matters little provided her fetish 
 was spared! The Prince, who continued motionless 
 and stunned, looked at her, and his expressionless 
 eyes seemed to grow dim. She laid her hands which 
 trembled, this time, on her husband's cold hand, and 
 addressed the physician a mute and despairing question. 
 
 He answered with a sign ; the servants immediately 
 rolled the arm-chair with the invalid into the private 
 apartments, and no one perceived his condition. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," said the Princess, when the 
 object of her solicitude was sheltered from curious eyes, 
 
MARKOP. 429 
 
 "the Prince is slightly indisposed, you will kindly 
 excuse me if I do not keep you company any longer." 
 
 A tumult of questions interrupted her. 
 
 " Ah ! nothing serious," replied she smiling ; " a 
 trifle, but my duty " 
 
 A thousand regrets, a thousand praises, smothered 
 the remainder of her sentence, and five minutes later 
 the hinges of the iron gateway closed behind the last 
 guest. 
 
 Cle*opatre, without taking the trouble to change her 
 toilette, joined the physician and his invalid. Already 
 the most powerful remedies fought against the evil, but 
 without success. At the first ray of dawn, in her white 
 silk dress, which was stained by the ice she had held 
 all the night through on the dying man's head, the 
 Princess Redine knelt mechanically near her husband's 
 bed-side ; but it was a mere form of proper piety ; for 
 she did not think of praying, in the great and hopeless 
 grief that filled her soul : her fetish was dead. 
 
430 MAKKOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 HELEN E REFUSES. 
 
 HELENE and De'miane, escorted by Madame 
 Moutine, had returned home without having 
 exchanged a word. Each of them felt that a little 
 repose and reflection were necessary in order to permit 
 them to clearly face the new situation which the young 
 artist had just created by a few words. On the thresh- 
 old of their rooms, they exchanged a good-night, with- 
 out even accompanying it with the habitual shaking of 
 hands, and separated immediately. 
 
 Victor welcomed his brother with two or three com- 
 mon-place questions; he had not expected him so soon; 
 how had the evening passed ? 
 
 "Very well," replied Demiane with a preoccupied 
 air ; " the Prince had an attack and the Princess sent 
 us away." 
 
 Victor looked at him twice, to assure himself that he 
 was not jesting, but the young violinist did not look as 
 though he wished to mystify him. * 
 
 "In the name of Heaven, brother, what has hap- 
 pened ? " exclaimed the good fellow, putting his hand 
 on D^miane's shoulder, and trying to read Iris face. 
 
 " I am going to marry little Helene," said the artist, 
 with a gloomy air. 
 
 The poor hunchback withdrew his hand, looked at 
 his brother with profound astonishment, and then sud- 
 denly a cry broke forth from his oppressed heart. 
 
MARKOF. 431 
 
 " You, De*miane ? Ah ! how glad I am, how glad I 
 am!" 
 
 He was so glad that he went and threw himself on 
 his bed, and hid his face in the pillow, sobbing. 
 
 " Is that the effect this news produces on you ? " 
 grumbled De*miane, who was less angry than surprised. 
 
 Victor rose, wiped his e} r es, and held out his arms to 
 his brother, saying to him : 
 
 " Excuse me, it is joy." 
 
 " A droll kind of joy ! " said Ddmiane, yielding him- 
 self to his fraternal embrace, but without warmth. 
 
 The two brothers sat down face to face, and looked 
 at each other for an instant. 
 
 "And she" hazarded Victor, "what does she say 
 about it?" 
 
 " Whom do you mean by she ? " 
 
 "HlSne, my sister Hdldne?" 
 
 "Your sister Helene says nothing at all." 
 
 " How nothing ? Is she not happy ? " 
 
 " I suppose so ! " replied Demiane, with a slight smile 
 of fatuity. 
 
 And he certainly believed that little Hdlene was 
 happy. However, he thought it strange that she had 
 not said ariythftig on their way home, but he himself 
 had not opened his mouth. 
 
 " I do not understand," said Victor, with hesitation. 
 " How does it happen that you do not know what she 
 
 thinks?" 
 
 
 
 " We were not alone," replied De'miane, not without 
 some repugnance, for the recital of what had taken 
 place " down there " seemed to him difficult. 
 
432 MARKOF. 
 
 44 Was it at the Princess', then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 44 Before everybody ? " 
 
 "MonDieu! how many questions!" said D&niane, 
 impatiently. 
 
 Under any other circumstances Victor, seeing him 
 disinclined to answer, would have ceased interrogating 
 him and would have waited till the next day, which 
 could not have failed to have furnished him with the 
 desired explanation ; but Helene's happiness was too 
 dear to his heart, and he continued : 
 
 "Does the Princess know it?" he asked, touching 
 the sore point with a precision which made De'rniane 
 tremble. 
 
 44 Yes." 
 
 44 Then," continued Victor with increasing emotion, 
 in which this time joy had its place, " you have quar- 
 reled with the Princess ? " 
 
 44 Yes," almost screamed De*miane, who was furious. 
 44 And now, do you know enough ? " 
 
 44 Ah ! my brother, how glad I am ! " exclaimed the 
 good fellow, this time from the bottom of his heart and 
 without any reservation. 
 
 He seized his brother in his arms with a joyous out- 
 burst, and suddenly raising his hand, he made the sign 
 of the cross on his rebellious brow : 
 
 4k In the name of our absent father, Deiniane, I bless 
 you in your new life," said he, solemnly. 
 
 The artist lowered his brow and remained bowed 
 beneath his elder brother's hand. Their father's image 
 came and stood between them, recalling the family fire- 
 side and filial duty. 
 
M A R K F . 433 
 
 "Listen to me, Victor," said the young man in a 
 calmer voice, "I am going to relate to you what 
 occurred this evening, and you will tell me whether I 
 have done right." 
 
 Having resolved to make this confession he did it 
 honestly and faithfully, without taking from or adding 
 anything to the truth, and when he had finished he 
 waited in silence for what his elder brother should say 
 to him. 
 
 " Hdle'ne has not replied to your proposal?" said the 
 latter in a doubtful tone. 
 
 " No ! What need was there of replying ? " 
 
 " Well, brother, I am not sure that she will accept 
 it." 
 
 Demiane started up. 
 
 " And why ? " he began 
 
 His brother stopped him with a gesture pointing to 
 the drawing-room door which alone separated their room 
 from that of their friends. 
 
 "Because she may have understood that you were 
 not going to marry her for herself." 
 
 D&niane's head drooped and he walked to and fro in 
 evident agitation. 
 
 " May the devil take all women ! " said he as he was 
 getting ready to retire. 
 
 "Not all ! " protested Victor with a half smile ; "let 
 him content himself by taking one only." 
 
 The next morning, Demiane, who had awakened 
 
 early, he had scarcely slept left Victor who had 
 
 also not enjoyed a very refreshing rest, still slumbering, 
 
 and gently opening the drawing-room door, entered and 
 
 27 
 
434 MARK OF. 
 
 closed it after him and went to the window to breathe 
 the morning air. His sleeplessness had left him hot and 
 feverish; the cool breeze which tossed his hair on his 
 forehead did him good and calmed him. As he stood 
 with his hand resting on the window-sill, looking 
 beyond the town at the tops of the mountains piling 
 up one above the other towards the heavens, he heard 
 a door open, and turned round brusquely, thinking it 
 was his brother. 
 
 It was Helne who, moved by the same need of soli- 
 tude and coolness, had left the room where her mother 
 was sleeping, and had come to breathe the morning air. 
 She had shut the door before she perceived De'miane ; 
 deceived by the artist's lazy habits she thought she had 
 found Victor instead of his brother. However, Helene 
 was valiant; she let go the handle of the door and took 
 two steps forward. De'miane approached her. She 
 saluted him with a nod of her head. He placed two 
 chairs in the embrasure of the window ; she took one of 
 them and he remained standing in front of her, with his 
 hands resting on the other. They both felt that this 
 interview which they had not sought would decide 
 their future existence. 
 
 "Victor said something to me last night which made 
 me afraid," began Demiane with an unsteady voice; 
 " he fears that you will not consent to marry me ; how- 
 ever, yesterday, you did not say 110, Helene ; his fear 
 is ill-founded, is it not?" 
 
 She listened to him motionless ; her little white peig- 
 noir did not tremble : with her hands clasped on her 
 knees, and her head a little bent down, she seemed a 
 statue of attention. 
 
MAEKOF. 435 
 
 " Yesterday," she replied in a low voice, for she did 
 not wish to wake those who were sleeping near, "I 
 could not answer you; you had disposed of my future 
 fate without my consent ; I am not angry with you for 
 doing so ; it was a vengeance which you had under your 
 hand, and you made use of it it was very natural." 
 
 " Then, you consent ? " said Ddmiane who was uncer- 
 tain, and did not know whether he should rejoice or be 
 sorry. 
 
 " No," said little Helene softly, lowering her head. 
 
 De'miane bit his lips and let go the back of his chair ; 
 this mortified, and even caused him some grief. 
 
 "I understood very well that you should desire to 
 make that lady think that I have consented," con- 
 tinued Helene calmly. " So, during the time which we 
 still have to spend here, a few days, is it not ? " 
 
 "We will leave to-morrow if you desire it," replied 
 D^miane. 
 
 "Very well. Until then, you need not contradict 
 the announcement which you gave yesterday of of 
 that marriage ; but when we have left this place, we 
 will each take back our liberty, and if later you should 
 meet some one who should ask you why we have not 
 acted upon it, you will reply that we have changed our 
 minds." 
 
 " Then," said De'miane, who was overcome at the 
 tranquil manner with which she arranged all this, " you 
 refuse to marry me ? " 
 
 " You do not love me ! " replied Helene gently, whose 
 cheeks had grown a little pale while she was speaking, 
 and who turned away her face. 
 
436 MARKOF. 
 
 He looked at her surprised. She loved him, and she 
 refused him because he did not love her! What a 
 proud soul was little Helene's ! He looked at her with 
 new respect. For some time past this respect had been 
 increasing, and he had not yet found where it would 
 end. Then he felt hurt at this judgment passed upon 
 him. How could she know that he did not love her?" 
 
 "But I do love you, Helene! " he continued, implor- 
 ingly. 
 
 She shook her head with that sweet sadness that 
 gave her so much charm. 
 
 " Oh ! no," she said, " you do not' love me enough ! 
 you love to be loved, Ddmiane, and you yourself do 
 not love." 
 
 He felt that she spoke the truth, but in these words 
 he found a new hope. 
 
 " If you love me a little I love you more than 
 you think. We could still be very happy." 
 
 She made a negative wave of the hand. ' 
 
 " You would be very happy," said she ; " you would 
 love me just enough to return home whenever people 
 should cause you any grief elsewhere ; you would be 
 glad to find your things in order, your drawers arranged, 
 some good music to divert you, a good accompaniment, 
 not too good, however ; you do not like people to accom- 
 pany you too well, Demiane ; and after you were rested, 
 happy and comforted, you would return to the world to 
 pay attention to some Princess. You would be very 
 happy, Demiane, and I would be very unhappy." 
 
 The young man had blushed from shame at first and 
 from anger afterwards ; he controlled himself, however. 
 
MARK OF. 437 
 
 " How well you know life," said he with bitterness ; 
 " and how well, too, you know my character ! But do 
 you not fear that in occupying yourself so much about 
 your own happiness you may become a perfect egotist ? " 
 
 " Egotist ? " she replied, smiling, " that is a word 
 which we will share together if you choose. And do 
 you not see what a singular union ours would be ? We 
 quarrel incessantly ! " 
 
 " For some time past, it is true," replied Ddmiane ; 
 " formerly we used to agree." 
 
 " Because I always yielded," said little Helne, 
 sweetly. 
 
 " And why will you not yield now ? " 
 
 She blushed ; it was since she loved him that she had 
 held out against him, since she hoped to see him one 
 day worthy of the love she had given him so gener- 
 ously in advance. 
 
 " Because one only yields to children and weak peo- 
 ple," said she. It is a proof of esteem to struggle with 
 those who deceive themselves." 
 
 "Do I deceive myself?" 
 
 " You deceived yourself once, at least, when you 
 thought that I would accept your name." 
 
 D^miane was conquered ; it is always hard to be con- 
 quered, but especially so the first time. 
 
 " Then you finally refuse me ? " said he, sad and hu 
 miliated. 
 
 She nodded in the affirmative. 
 
 " Forever ? " 
 
 Here she felt herself grow weak ; forever, that was 
 very cruel ! Suppose she should discourage him and 
 
438 MARKOF. 
 
 throw him into new perils? She blushed, and in spite 
 of herself her eyes filled with tears. He took her hand 
 with genuine tenderness. How much dearer she be- 
 came to him in proportion as her refusal became plainer 
 and more certain ! At the thought that she might go 
 away, that he might lose all the domestic joys of which 
 she had ironically painted him the picture an instant 
 before, he felt himself overcome with a regret which 
 greatly resembled love. 
 
 " I do not know," said she, in a broken voice, " what 
 may happen later." 
 
 He sat down beside her, keeping the young girl's 
 small, cold and trembling hand in his. Since she re- 
 fused him, they would separate, and he would lose the 
 charm of her presence. Those calm and intelligent 
 eyes, which so well divined his thoughts, had brought 
 so much joy into his life. She wished to withdraw her 
 hand, but he retained it ; she turned away her head, 
 but too late ; for a tear had fallen on her dress, and 
 Demiane had seen it. 
 
 " You are weeping, Helene," said he to her, feeling a 
 sweet warmth rise from his heart to his brain, and be- 
 coming bolder than he had thought himself capable of 
 being with this young girl, who was formerly so indif- 
 ferent to him; you are weeping, because it pains you 
 to part from me; it is true, is it not? You do love 
 me? Why do you wish to refuse the happiness that 
 comes to you." 
 
 She withdrew her hand hastily from the young man's, 
 and looked him in the face, trying no longer to conceal 
 the tears that streamed down her cheeks. 
 
MARKOF. 439 
 
 " Yes, you are right/' said she, " what is the use of 
 lying ! and I do not know how to lie ! Yes, I love you ; 
 I love you more than my life, more than my own happi- 
 ness ; and that is why I will not marry you ! I do not 
 wish to grow to hate you some day, to despise you, per- 
 haps. I would despise you if you were to me the 
 husband you offered me last night. A man who would 
 have taken me from spite, from anger, in order to get 
 out of a disagreeable affair, and who would despise me 
 for having accepted him, knowing that he did not love 
 me ! If I accepted % you to-day, De*miane, you would 
 think that I had not been aJble to resist my love for 
 you, that I considered the happiness of being your wife 
 above my honor, my dignity, my whole future. No, I 
 love you, and I will not marry you so long as you have 
 not the same love for me as I have for you, a love which 
 places the esteem for the person one loves above every- 
 thing in this world." 
 
 " Helene ! " exclaimed Ddmiane, overcome and seized 
 with admiration for the character which thus revealed 
 itself, u you shall be loved as you wish, I swear to you! 
 Ah ! I did not know you ! " 
 
 " I know it," said she, returning to the sweet melan- 
 choly which was familiar to her. She wiped her eyes 
 with the loose sleeve of her peignoir and looked va- 
 cantly out of the window. 
 
 " But I know you now, and I will love you I Dear 
 Helene, one prayer only ! Do not leave us ! Let me 
 continue to live near you, to learn from your example 
 all that I am ignorant of about my dut} r ; and later, 
 perhaps Yes, will you not ? " 
 
440 M A R K O F . 
 
 had struggled bravely ; she was weary, and 
 she yielded. 
 
 " Let us go to Moscow," said she ; there we will sep- 
 arate." 
 
 " We will see, will we riot ? This is not your last 
 word?" 
 
 " We will see," said she. 
 
 He kissed her hand, which he had taken again, and if 
 Clopatre could have seen him, she would have been 
 wounded to her heart, for never had he shown her such 
 profound respect nor such grave tenderness. 
 
 "We will not speak of this to any one?" said 'the 
 young girl; "mamma knows nothing about it; she 
 shall remain ignorant." 
 
 "Not always, Helene?" implored De*'miane, as she 
 passed before him. 
 
 She smiled faintly and returned to her room. 
 
 " She is an angel, Victor ! " said our friend, returning 
 to his brother, who was all dressed and awaiting with 
 anxiety for the end of their interview. " Have you 
 heard our conversation ? " 
 
 " You spoke loud enough for me to do so ! Yes, she 
 is an angel, only you were not capable of knowing it." 
 
MARKOF. 441 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 ANDRE STRUGGLES AGAINST VARIOUS TROUBLES. 
 
 " II /TY dear friends, who have become my confidants, 
 JjJL in spite of my aversion for confidences, come 
 to my help ! I am positively losing my mind, and if 
 any one of you thinks he can infer from that that I 
 have not a sound mind, let him put himself in my place ! 
 Moreover, if you had any compassion for a poor lonely 
 man at bay, you would leave on the receipt of this 
 letter, and you would see for yourselves whether there 
 exists under Heaven a more bewildered man than my- 
 self. 
 
 " I believe I told you in my last letter that my 
 domestic imp had opened her mouth for the sole pur 
 pose of forbidding my going shooting. Since then I 
 have vainly alleged that as beasts were not birds, and 
 as I would respect the little birds, I would like very 
 much to shoot a hare but beast or bird is all one to 
 her, and the hares of the steppe are henceforth sure of 
 a fabulous longevity, unless I set some snares for them. 
 But what can you do with a hare unless you eat it ? 
 And can you imagine how my game would be welcomed 
 at home ? I tremble to think of it ! 
 
 " My Kobold knows how to read and write ; she has 
 even some notions more strange than extensive on what 
 ,is commonly called, I know not why, Sacred History ; 
 
442 MARK OF. 
 
 for assuredly nothing is less sacred, and if But this 
 would make us digress from my subject; she is not 
 sure whether the Jews and the Israelites were the same 
 people ; but on the other hand she knows the history of 
 Joseph very well, and the other day, when I insinuated 
 that hare was excellent dressed with sour cream, she 
 told me I was as barbarous as the brothers of that 
 patriarch. 
 
 "I think that in order to inspire me with more 
 respect she had called all her knowledge to her aid, 
 but it is nevertheless a fact that this rural muse has 
 a little shade of what it is agreed to call the indis- 
 pensable. 
 
 " Well, the other day, I had gone to wander round 
 the steppe, exactly as the Parisians go to the Bois de 
 Boulogne ; for it is the ne plus ultra of my worldliness, 
 but the sun broiled me so that I returned home unex- 
 pectedly. As I went into my room, which is the 
 coolest in the house, what did I perceive ? this extra- 
 ordinary girl seated on the ground, almost bent double 
 in the extreme interest with which she was reading in 
 my Lermontof the sad story of Bela. When she saw 
 me, she sprang to her feet like a child caught in the 
 act of disobedience, and went towards the door, with 
 my book, when she was seized with remorse. Although 
 her ideas with regard to property are as strange as the 
 rest of her education, she has well proved it, the poor 
 child ! still apparently my books are mine, more cer- 
 tainly mine than my house ; for when she had reached 
 the threshold, she turned round with the pretty gesture 
 of a child who is obliged to do some tiresome act. 
 
M A R K O F . 443 
 
 " c May I take it with me ? ' said she pointing to the 
 volume. 
 
 " ' Certainly, Mademoiselle,' I replied with a ,grand 
 bow. 
 
 "She made me a very noble bow which probably 
 signified thank you, and disappeared. I had the curi- 
 osity to follow her to see what she would do with her 
 booty. She had taken refuge in an arbor of young 
 vines at the extremity of the garden, and, seated on 
 the ground, that is her favorite position she was 
 devouring the novel ; great tears were running down 
 her face without her heeding them, and I saw her 
 droop her head in her hands and sob. She had finished 
 her chapter. 
 
 " She wept so bitterly that it seemed to me a case of 
 conscience not to allow her to grieve in such a way. I 
 approached with all possible precaution, and in my 
 sweetest voice said to her : 
 
 " ' Don't cry, Mouza, it did not really happen.' 
 
 " She looked at me through her dishevelled hair 
 My friends, if you only knew how pretty she was ! 
 
 " c It did not happen,' I repeated ; 4 it is a story they 
 have invented.' 
 
 " 4 That is not true ! ' replied this innocent at once ; 
 'it is you who are inventing that now. And they 
 killed her, that poor Be* la ! And with a blow from a 
 poniard ! Oh ! the wicked people ! And he, he did 
 not love her, that Petchorine ! He was wicked too ! ' 
 
 " She spoke ! and of her own accord. The chance 
 was too good, and I took advantage of it to deliver 
 Mouza an abridged lecture on the literature of our 
 
444 M A R K O F . 
 
 country; she listened to me with a contempt which 
 clearly informed me how perfectly indifferent all those 
 things were to her. When, my eloquence exhausted, 
 I had finished speaking, she rose, brushed her hair back, 
 and wished to go away with the book. I extended my 
 hand. 
 
 " i I am going to take it,' said she, l you gave it to 
 me.' 
 
 "'To finish the story about Bela only, and it is 
 finished. Return me the book, the rest is not inter- 
 esting.' 
 
 " She hesitated and I thought for a moment that she 
 was going to run off with my little volume, in which 
 case I would have been obliged to have given up trying 
 to catch her; but she submitted, for the first time in 
 her life, and, very reluctantly put her treasure into my 
 hand. 
 
 " * I know a great many stories,' said I to her, c I could 
 relate them to you ; but you detest me and you never 
 wish to speak to me.' 
 
 " She threw me a glance in which confusion, reproach, 
 curiosity and something else which was very evasive, 
 and very sweet were strangely mingled, and she cast 
 down her head. This was a victory. I retired majes- 
 tically, bearing my trophy with me. 
 
 " In the evening after dinner, instead of retiring as 
 she did every day after she had nibbled a little fruit, 
 she rose slowly, took several turns round the room, 
 gave mysteriously an order to the servant-maid who, 
 an instant later, brought me all my smoker's appa- 
 ratus, an attention that was as delicate as unusual, 
 
M A R K F . 445 
 
 and ended by sitting down in her place again, opposite 
 to me. 
 
 " I smoked in silence ; she stifled a little sigh of im- 
 patience from time to time ; at* length, seeing that I 
 was as mute as a granite sphinx, she said to me with 
 the voice of an enchantress : 
 
 " 4 Tell me a story!' 
 
 "And since that time, my friends, I tell her stories 
 all day long ! She accompanies me in all my walks, 
 prepares my cigarettes for me, questions me a great 
 deal, answers me as little as possible, and evidently con- 
 siders me in the new light of a portable encyclopedia, 
 'easy to consult in travels,' as the prospectus of an 
 encyclopedia in two volumes says, in which one never 
 finds what one looks for. This role of Larousse's Dic- 
 tionary is charming and perilous. Mouza is extraordi- 
 narily pretty, almost prettier than she is uncivilized; 
 and she does not suspect it ; she seems as though she 
 had the sort of friendship for me that one has for an 
 old horse to whom its rest has been given ; and I evi- 
 dently was not born for this r61e of tutor to young 
 ladies, and I know no longer what to do. Yesterday, I 
 spoke of taking a journey to Moscow, to go after all 
 my violins that were begun and remain unfinished; 
 she began by being sulky with me, and at night I saw 
 that she had been crying. 
 
 " My friends, my dear friends, come and take me out 
 of this, and since your ladies are sweet and compas- 
 sionate, implore them to come with you, so as to try 
 and take Mouza away to some boarding-school, no 
 matter where. This life is no longer bearable, and I 
 
446 M A R K O F . 
 
 am a great fool not to have understood from the begin- 
 ning what would inevitably happen. Answer me by 
 return mail with some advice, while awaiting your 
 coming, which would be better than all the rest. 
 
 " Your much perplexed friend, 
 
 ANDRE LADOF." 
 
 De*miane was alone when this letter reached Piati- 
 gorsk; he read and re-read it two or three times 
 attentively, and then began to walk up and down the 
 drawing-room. Helne had gone out with her mother 
 to make some purchases, and Victor was busily occupy- 
 ing himself with preparations for their departure. 
 
 After a few seconds of reflection, he sat down at his 
 desk, and wrote on a sheet of paper : 
 
 "If you wish to be happy and without reproach, 
 marry her. Your friend, DEMIANE." 
 
 After which he sealed the letter and continued his 
 walk. 
 
 The Prince's death had delayed their plan for an 
 immediate departure. Raben, who had gone to an- 
 nounce it to the young artist on the day that it 
 occurred, had advised him to wait for a few days. 
 
 " You have been well received at the house," said 
 the diplomatist kindly ; " the Prince showed you a 
 great deal of friendship, it is proper that you should 
 attend the funeral services which will take place here 
 before the transportation of that poor friend's remains 
 to the chapel where all the members of his family 
 repose, on his estate in the neighborhood of Moscow ." 
 
M A R K O F . 447 
 
 It was thus, that in memory of the Prince's friend- 
 ship for him it needed Raben to invent that friend- 
 ship Demiane had written his name in the book at 
 the Princess', and had been present at the customary 
 prayers in the drawing-room, which was hung in black 
 and transformed into a chapelle ardente. He had seen 
 there, during these prayers, which lasted for hours, 
 Cleopatre, more beautiful than ever in her long crape 
 veil, bow and prostrate herself with all the dignity of 
 a widow who has fulfilled her duty to the end. 
 
 That night of anguish had changed her; her com- 
 plexion had grown dark, her eyes had become sunken, 
 her sculptural beauty seemed refined by grief. Those 
 who surrounded her were astonished at the havoc 
 which a loss that was of such little importance in every- 
 body's eyes, had caused ; the Prince was not interest- 
 ing enough to occasion so many regrets, and if Cle'o- 
 patre had not maintained so irreproachable a manner 
 that no one could accuse her of making a parade of her 
 despair, they would perhaps have considered her as an 
 unskilful actress. But she did not speak of her loss ; 
 and her haughty coldness did not permit either allu- 
 sions to or consolations about it, and what she felt 
 inwardly remained a secret to herself alone. 
 
 She was "struck," as old women say; the death of 
 her fetish coinciding with Ddmiane's rebellion had 
 seemed to her a decree of fate. Without asking her- 
 self why she had deserved to be punished more this 
 time than so many others, she had bowed her head, 
 accepting this chance as a chastisement; and for her 
 proud nature nothing was more terrible than to submit. 
 
448 MARKOF. 
 
 She saw Demiane, and bowed to him, as to the others, 
 without speaking to him. She spoke to no one except 
 Raben, who had taken charge very naturally of the 
 material part of the troubles which follow such events. 
 Demiane, as he bowed before this widow of the day 
 before, felt nothing tremble within him of that which 
 had formerly made him beside himself. She was pun- 
 ished by himself and by fate ; he was satisfied, and 
 even he had pardoned her. Now he was sure of never 
 having loved her, for one does not cure oneself thus of 
 a true love that has been wounded. 
 
 Once only, he was disturbed by a passing emotion. 
 The day that was designated for the removal of the 
 body a magnificent service took place in the church ; 
 he attended it, with all the town, and behind him, just 
 when Raben was giving his orders to the pall-bearers, 
 ne heard these words : 
 
 " The Count gives himself a great deal of trouble." 
 
 " Why not ? It is natural enough, when one wants 
 to move into a house, to help move out of it those who 
 give up the place." 
 
 " Then she will marry him ? " 
 
 " Of course ! They have said so for ten years at 
 Moscow and even at the Court. They will make him 
 an ambassador." 
 
 Demiane had trembled at the thought of seeing 
 Raben take the place which he had occupied himself 
 such a short time before ; and then the thought that it 
 was not his place, but that of the Prince which the 
 future ambassador would take, made him shrug his 
 shoulders with a smile of pity. 
 
 A week had scarcely passed since these events, and 
 
M A R K O F . 449 
 
 the Princess had left, accompanying her husband's 
 body. If the authorities could have allowed her to 
 carry it about with her during the remainder of her 
 days, she would have done so with joy, so as not to be 
 separated from what remained to her of her talisman. 
 This woman, who was afraid of nothing, had an un- 
 healthy dread of what would happen to her when the 
 sepulchral slab would be sealed over her husband's body ! 
 Raben had remained, in order not to make evident a 
 haste that would be in bad taste, but he was going to 
 leave Piatigorsk, and would arrive at Mpscow at the 
 same time with the Princess, who was travelling by 
 short stages. Our friends, whom nothing detained, 
 had lost some time, thanks to Madame Mianof 's want 
 of energy, and they were only to leave that town the 
 next day. 
 
 Demiane, while thinking of Ladof s letter, recalled 
 many different emotions, and with them the life he 
 had led with his friends. Would Andre do as he had 
 nearly done himself! Would he pass near happiness 
 without knowing it, preoccupied as he was with other 
 dreams and other fancies ? This young girl about whom 
 he spoke was imperfect without doubt, wild and fan- 
 tastic, but she was good and tender to the weak and to 
 the young ; she was intelligent ; what could not one do 
 with a child of sixteen who was endowed with so many 
 good qualities together with her faults ? Faults ? What 
 did those matter ? Demiane also had his faults, he 
 recognized them now; he found more in himself than 
 he really had; and did he not hope, however, that 
 Hclcne would one day accept him from pity. 
 28 
 
450 M A R K O F . 
 
 As a conclusion to these meditations, he took the 
 letter and carried it to the post. On returning he heard 
 Victor's voice, who was saying to the ladies : 
 
 " To-morrow, at eight o'clock in the morning." 
 
 " So soon ? " said Helene, with a little regret. 
 
 " Do you wish to remain longer ? " 
 
 " No, oh, no ! But we are going to leave Madame 
 Moutine, and that gives me a great deal of sorrow." 
 
 De'miane did not hear his brother's answer, for it was 
 whispered in H^lene's ear, for whom alone it was in- 
 tended. 
 
 "And I also; it gives me a great deal of sorrow, 
 more than you believe, perhaps ; but I have a consola- 
 tion, which is that I take you with me." 
 
 She smiled and looked at Victor, doubtfully. 
 
 "So much sorrow as that?" said she. "I did not 
 know that you were such a great friend of Madame 
 Moutine's; she is kind to all, but " 
 
 Victor hesitated for an instant, then a thought of 
 sacrifice arose in his heart and he decided suddenly to 
 put an impassable barrier between Helene and him- 
 self. They were alone, for Demiane was talking with 
 Madame Mianof at the foot of the stairway. 
 
 "At the risk of appearing ridiculous to you," said 
 he, " I am going to confide to you the secret of my life ; 
 a poor hunchback can also love, provided he keeps his 
 love to himself alone; Madame Moutine, long before 
 her marriage, was the star of my life, and she will 
 always remain the ideal of woman to me. I loved you 
 at once, my sister Helene, because you resemble her 
 and now forgive me for having had the folly of loving 
 and the vanity of telling you so." 
 
MARKOF. 451 
 
 HelSne held out her hand to Victor with a mixture of 
 compassion and tenderness. In spite of the charity of 
 her nature, she could not help thinking that, in truth, 
 to love was folly, when one had so little chance of 
 making oneself loved; but she did not express her 
 thought. Victor, who was happy at the subterfuge 
 which would shelter from all suspicion the entire de- 
 votion which he might henceforth give his "sister 
 He'ldne," felt the bitterness at the same time that he 
 felt the sweetness of the sacrifice; but he had done 
 right and did not wish to repent of it. 
 
452 M A R K O F . 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 THE LITTLE WILD GIRL. 
 
 LADOF was awaiting his friends on the threshold of 
 his latticed doorway. His domain was not osten- 
 tatious, but he possessed what is worth more than 
 worldly luxury, fat cows and fine sheep. Buried up to 
 his knees in the grass of the steppe, he was looking at 
 the road impatiently; the shadows of his trees were 
 already lengthening on the ground, and he feared to see 
 the day pass by without bringing him his friends. 
 Mouza, who had become, not more wild but timid, had 
 approached several times to scan the road as he was 
 doing, but she had hastily withdrawn every time that 
 he had wished to retain her. 
 
 Mouza was much afraid of the ladies who were going 
 to arrive, and still she had a great desire to know them. 
 What could ladies be like who went into society and 
 who played the piano ? She almost regretted to have 
 her solitude disturbed, which for some weeks she had 
 willingly shared with Andre*; however, her natural 
 curiosity drew her to these unknown beings who were 
 going to give her a little glimpse of the world. 
 
 In her odd little brain, a great work had been going 
 on by degrees. The stories which Andr told her, and 
 some books which he had made her read, had informed 
 her of the existence of a society in which the habits of 
 the steppe were not in usage. She understood the 
 
MARKOF. 453 
 
 strangeness of her behaviour ; and she realized Ladof s 
 rights over this house which until then, she had con- 
 sidered as her own, in spite of all the arguments used 
 to convince her of the truth. With the conviction that 
 she was not in her own home, and that consequently 
 she was enjoying the young heir's hospitality, shame 
 had entered her mind at having acted as she had done ; 
 all this was very vague, and in the state of a sensation 
 and not of reasoning. But these new meditations had 
 made her timid ; and with timidity, modesty had enter- 
 ed her soul ; the story of Bela had revealed to her what 
 is called love, and she had perceived that Ladof held 
 henceforth the first place in her life, since her old father 
 slept under the graveyard trees a few verstes away. 
 Thus ripened suddenly, Mouza had formed a great 
 resolve, which she could not execute alone, and for 
 which she hoped some aid from those who were 
 coming. 
 
 A ray of red sunlight shone on a little cloud of dust 
 on the road. 
 
 " There they are ! " exclaimed Ladof turning towards 
 his little friend. 
 
 The latter had disappeared. The cloud of dust 
 approached quickly, for Russian postillions make it a 
 point of honor to arrive at galoping speed. The two 
 tarantass that were carrying the artists and their 
 renown stopped before the brick house, and Andre* 
 found himself clasped in his friend's arms before he 
 had time to offer the ladies his hand. 
 
 When Helene and her mother reached the ground, 
 which was the easiest of operations for the young girl, 
 
454 M A R K O F . 
 
 but which was not without danger for Madame Mianof, 
 they all looked at each other a little astounded ; then, 
 after the necessary presentations, they went towards 
 the dining-room. 
 
 To Andrews inexpressible surprise, Mouza was stand- 
 ing near the samovar, before a table covered wih white 
 linen and furnished with a very appetizing collation. 
 The good fellow had given some orders to the maid, 
 but he was far from expecting that his little savage 
 would do so much herself; he thanked her for it by 
 the most gracious smile, which she accepted as her due 
 with a great deal of dignity, and a blush which made 
 her charming. After a quarter of an hour, she answered 
 Hel&ie, in monosyllables, it is true, but with a timid 
 grace which at once won for her the young artist's 
 heart. 
 
 The next morning, very early, Demiane and Victor 
 went to find Andre*, who was walking in one of the 
 pathways of his kitchen-garden with his hands behind 
 his back. 
 
 "Well?" said De*miane, "has my letter brought 
 forth fruit?" 
 
 " What does the grave Victor say about this absurd 
 plan?" 
 
 " I say that my brother is right ; " I would never 
 perhaps, have thought of this ending, but I approve it ; 
 It was D6miane's part to find it ; he had a particular 
 grace for it!" 
 
 " Eh ! " said Ladof passing his arm familiarly in that 
 of the young violinist ; " grace ! What grace, and in 
 what particular ? " 
 
MARKOF. 455 
 
 " Nothing," murmured De'miane who was much em- 
 barrassed, " it is nothing at all, Victor is joking. Then, 
 you are going to get married ? When ? " 
 
 " When Mouza wishes." 
 
 "Have you spoken to her about it?" 
 
 It was Andrews turn to appear confused. He hesi- 
 tated, wished to speak two or three times, but could 
 not find any words, and ended by laughing. 
 
 "What an idiot I am," said he plucking up his 
 courage ; " no, I have not spoken to her about it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Don't I tell you that I am an idiot ? I am afraid 
 she will refuse." 
 
 Our friends looked at each other anxiously. That 
 was true, suppose she should refuse ? 
 
 " Would you like He*lene to speak to her about it? " 
 Victor suddenly suggested, his face radiant with delight 
 at the thought of such an excellent plan. 
 
 " Indeed I would ! " exclaimed Ladof ; " that is a 
 capital idea! Your Hlne is charming! And you, 
 De'miane, why do you not marry her? She is just the 
 woman that you need ! She seems to be as sensible as 
 you are far from being eh ? " 
 
 This time it was De'miane who put on a foolish look. 
 
 " Are you also afraid that she will refuse you ? " con- 
 tinued Andre*, without meaning any harm. 
 
 De'miane had no desire to laugh nor had Victor, and 
 yet they all three burst out laughing together at the 
 same time at the sight of each other's expression. 
 
 " She has refused you ! " said Andre, with the tone 
 of a doctor; "it is written on your red ears, my friend 
 Ddniiane ! Don't bear me any spite and try not to 
 
456 M A R K F . 
 
 make me lodge at the same inn ! You are not vindic- 
 tive ? No ? So much the better then ! Help me and 
 I will help yon, which is the motto of a prudent man 
 and of societies for mutual assistance ! " 
 
 A few hours later, Helene, who was much troubled 
 by the mission she had accepted, joined Mouza under 
 the hop-vine arbor where she had wept so many tears 
 over Lermentof's novel. The little wild girl smiled as 
 she saw her approach ; she kept herself apart from the 
 new-comers through timidity, but she was very glad 
 to find herself sought after. She made a place for 
 Helene on the small worm-eaten bench, and they both, 
 remained silent for a moment. It was the young mu- 
 sician who broke the silence. 
 
 " It is pretty here," said she in her tuneful voice. 
 
 " Is it not ? " exclaimed Mouza, who w r as glad to be 
 able to be enthusiastic quite at her ease. 
 
 " One ought to live happily here," continued Helene. 
 " You are happy here, are you not ? " 
 
 Mouza, who was suddenly perplexed, became sad 
 and disquieted. She knew nothing about the art of 
 managing transitions ; that was why, after a moment 
 of hesitation, she uttered the following words, which 
 were well calculated to excite surprise : 
 
 " Will you take me away with you ? " 
 
 " Do you wish to go away ? " 
 
 " I must ! I ought to have gone when he came 
 but I did not know it ! I do not wish to go to the law- 
 yer's, I detest him. I would like to go with you." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " I do not know ! " said Mouza, with a sigh. " Where 
 does one go when one cannot remain any longer at 
 
M A R K O F . 457 
 
 home ? That is to say, not in my home, since this house 
 belongs to kirn, but " 
 
 She stopped. It was very difficult for a mind so 
 little given to the solution of such problems to express 
 itself. 
 
 Helene seized the occcosion which presented itself. 
 
 " He does not wish that you should go away, Mouza," 
 said she, caressing the brown hand of the little undis- 
 ciplined girl ; " he wishes, on the contrary, that you 
 should always remain here he would like that this 
 house in which you were born should become your own, 
 so as to live and die here with him." 
 
 Mouza looked at this tranquil person, who in her 
 sweet voice said such astonishing things to her, and 
 saw that she was speaking seriously. 
 
 " How ? " said she, hesitating. 
 
 " There is only one way, Mouza, which would be to 
 take the house with its owner. Have you any any 
 friendship for Monsieur Ladof?" 
 
 The young girl blushed suddenly. 
 
 "He is good," said she, with vivacity; "he is very 
 good and very obedient; he has always done what I 
 told him to do." 
 
 If Andr<j had heard her he would have been but 
 slightly flattered at the compliment. 
 
 " Then you do love him ? " 
 
 Mouza did not reply. 
 
 " Would you like to pass your whole life with him, 
 or else leave him to go elsewhere, as you said a moment 
 ago?" 
 
 " He is good I " repeated the ingenuous girl, without 
 daring to raise her eyes. 
 
458 MARKOF. 
 
 " You will consent to marry him, will you not ? " 
 " To marry him?" said Mouza, rising, "does he wish 
 to marry me ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! What were you thinking of then ? " 
 The poor little girl's face became covered with 
 blushes. She was the daughter of a peasant of the 
 steppe, and no one ever really knew whether her father 
 was married or riot : Mouza had heard this spoken of, 
 for the children of the neighboring village had not- 
 spared calling her names in their youthful quarrels, 
 and the idea of marriage was to her a sort of imagined 
 but unattainable Eden. 
 
 " Will you marry him ? " continued He*l&ne with her 
 perfect grace ; " and be to him a good, submissive and 
 devoted wife until your death, and aid him to bear 
 unhappy days and rejoice with him on the happy ones ? 
 That is what marriage is, it is devotion on both sides, 
 and he will protect and will love you." 
 
 " He has already protected me," stammered the little 
 girl " Where is he ? " 
 
 " In the kitchen-garden, he is waiting your answer." 
 Without speaking a word, Mouza rose, and contrary 
 to her habit, she walked sedately as far as the kitchen- 
 garden gate. She opened the little door and entered 
 the pathway courageously where Ladof was walking 
 quite alone, ruminating on what he called his stupidity. 
 At the sound of Mouza's light footsteps, he turned 
 round ; and she went up close to him and bowed down 
 before him, as peasants do. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked in a sullen tone, thinking 
 that she had not seen Helene, or that some freak of her 
 capricious mind urged her to a childish joke. 
 
MARKOF. 459 
 
 "I am your wife and your servant," said Mouza 
 humbly, who felt her eyes fill with tears. 
 
 He seized her in his arms and raised her from the 
 ground with a cry of joy. 
 
 " Do you love me then?" said he as he placed her on 
 the ground again, but without releasing her from his 
 embrace. 
 
 " I do not know, but I do know that I cannot live 
 apart from thee ; I wanted to go away, and it was so 
 hard! I think I never could have done so, I would 
 have come back." 
 
 He looked at her entranced, with a gleam of merri- 
 ment in his eyes. 
 
 " It makes no difference if I say thee to thee, does 
 it ? " continued Mouza : " before thou didst come I had 
 never said you to any one, except to the lawyer, and I 
 do not know whether I ever spoke a word to him since 
 my birth. It annoyed me very much to say you to 
 thee!" 
 
 44 Do not annoy thyself any longer," exclaimed Ladof 
 laughing with all his heart; 44 Paradise is opened, we 
 are going to be as happy as the little birds which thou 
 didst forbid my shooting." 
 
 The joy of these two beings soon filled all the house. 
 It was arranged that the wedding should take place the 
 following week, and that our friends should be present, 
 and then depart the same day, leaving the couple to 
 their honey-moon. 
 
460 MARK OF. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 THE VICTORY OF HELENE. 
 
 THE atmosphere of this house, where Ladof was 
 singing all day long, and where Ddmiane, for 
 want of a piano to accompany him, improvised for 
 whole hours together, confiding to his violin the task 
 of expressing all that his disquieted soul felt, was as 
 exciting as a strong perfume. Madame Mianof had 
 made herself a little Thebaid in her room. She had 
 drilled the servant-maid to bring her tea four or five 
 times a day, and she passed her time there as pleasantly 
 as anywhere else, between games of patience and cigar- 
 ettes. * 
 
 Victor devoted himself to preparations for the wed- 
 ding, as though he had never done anything else all his 
 life. With a hammer in his hand, and nails in his 
 pockets, he could be seen perched on a ladder, arrang- 
 ing and disarranging, putting up curtains here, de- 
 molishing partitions there, and 'playing his part of 
 upholsterer in a perfectly serious fashion. Ladof had 
 profited by his good will and his intelligence to execute 
 a thousand little alterations in the house, which, would 
 make it more comfortable, and which till then he had 
 not had the courage to undertake. 
 
 Demiane seemed desirous of regaining the time he 
 had lost at Piatigorsk, and practised on his violin with 
 
MARKOF. 461 
 
 a persistence that was worthy of all praise. He spoke 
 but little and seemed sad, and his friends clearly saw 
 that he was overwhelmed with regret. But did this 
 regret have relation to Cle*opatre's love, which had been 
 so suddenly lost, or to the precious time which he had 
 spent on that dream ? Did he regret Cleopatre? or did 
 he reproach himself for having loved her ? 
 
 Helene alone could have solved this question. De'mi- 
 ane's new humility, and affectionate sadness, she felt 
 was remorse, and not regret ; but she took good care 
 not to say anything about it, not wishing to lose by 
 too prompt a pardon the benefit of this return to 
 better feelings. Moreover, she was disquieted herself ; 
 not that she had any fear about her future ; she knew 
 she possessed a talent that was capable of supplying 
 henceforth all her wants and those of her mother ; but 
 the happiness of others is a sorrowful sight to those 
 who suffer, and sne was suffering. All the jealousy 
 which she had forbidden herself to feel for the Princess 
 when the latter was reigning over Dmiane, returned 
 to her now with singular bitterness ; and then she 
 feared her friend's instability : she asked herself if he 
 would love her long, if he would be a good husband : 
 if aristocratic beauties would not regain a sovereign 
 control over ^ this ambitious plebeian ; and such ques- 
 tions did not bring her a consoling answer. 
 
 The day before the wedding, Mouza went- to find her 
 in the drawing-room where, all alone, seated by the 
 window, she was questioning the future with a heart 
 heavy with fear. It was raining, and the autumn wind 
 made the yellow leaves that had 7 been torn from the 
 
462 MARK OF. 
 
 poplars, whirl round in the evening air. It had already 
 grown dark. The day and the hour were sad, but 
 Mouza knew no more sadness. She sat down beside 
 her new and only friend, and without speaking to her 
 she took her hand and caressed it in her own for some 
 time. 
 
 " I wanted," said she timidly at length, " to beg you 
 to thank your great friend for what he has done for 
 me." 
 
 " Who is my great friend ? " asked Helene surprised. 
 
 "The one who plays the violin Demiane he 
 loves you more than all the others ; he loves you as 
 much as I love Andre*." 
 
 " Who told you so ? " said the young artist, blushing. 
 
 " I have seen it ; I am wise now ! I have learned 
 many things since last spring. Will you thank him for 
 me ? I am ashamed and do not dare to." 
 
 " I will thank him, willingly," said Helene, " but for 
 what?" 
 
 " For having told Andr that he ought to marry me." 
 
 " Was it he who advised Monsieur Ladof to do it ? " 
 
 " Why yes ! did you not know it ? " 
 
 No, Helene had never heard anything about it; it 
 mattered little to the others whether the idea had come 
 from Ladof himself or from another ; but to her alone 
 this fact had some importance. 4 
 
 " I will thank him," said she, pensively; "he has done 
 well, it was from a good heart." 
 
 " Was it not ? I am only a little uncultivated child, 
 not much better than a peasant ; and Andr is a lord ; 
 but when people love each other, that makes no longer 
 any difference. Do you not think so Helene?" 
 
MARK OF. 463 
 
 " Certainly," replied the latter, passing her hand over 
 Mouza's hair. 
 
 "And you," continued the young betrothed girl, 
 " why do you not marry your friend. He would be 
 very happy, any one can see that. Do you not love 
 him?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes," said He*lne, who was agitated. 
 
 "Well, why do you not wish to see him happy? 
 Look at Andre, how gay he is since we have come to an 
 agreement ! Does it give you pleasure then to see him 
 sad?" 
 
 " No, oh ! no ! " said Hdlene, bitterly. 
 
 " Is he not rich enough ? " 
 
 " It is not that, either." 
 
 " Then, he is not good enough " 
 
 "He is good," interrupted Helene, "but to marry 
 one must be something else besides good." 
 
 " Why ? Just see how bad I am ! I know nothing, 
 I am good for nothing, I have tormented Andre* dread- 
 fully, and still he is going to marry me. It is because 
 he loves me; but you, you do not love your friend 
 enough." 
 
 Helene hung down her head. What a singular 
 Mentor was this odd and ignorant child. However, she 
 was right, Andr6 was going to marry her in spite of her 
 faults ; why, then, did she wish that Ddmiane should be 
 faultless to give him her life ? Would she not have a 
 thousand times more influence over him in the privacy 
 of domestic life ? Had she not taught him to respect 
 her henceforth, to consult her in everything ? Was it 
 not he who had need of her, when she could live away 
 
464 MARKOF. 
 
 from him? Away from him! Without doubt she 
 could do it, but at the cost of what bitter pain ! 
 
 A noise of footsteps was heard in the next room. 
 
 "There he is," said Mouza, "I am going to run 
 away; tell him what you promised me?" 
 
 She slipped out of the room, passed Ddmiane on the 
 threshold, gave him a smile and disappeared. 
 
 Demiane did not expect to find HdlSne alone ; he was 
 bewildered for a moment, and then he sat down on 
 the chair which Mouza had just left. Since the morn- 
 ing interview at Piatigorsk, they had not been alone 
 together before. He thought of it, and she also, for 
 she turned her face away and looked at the window, 
 where the water was streaming down the panes. 
 
 "We leave to-morrow," said the young man, in a 
 constrained voice ; " we will not see each other again 
 quite alone, Helene, let us speak frankly to each other, 
 
 She made a little sign with her head, indicating that 
 she consented to it. 
 
 " You are coming to Moscow with us ; and then what 
 do you intend to do ? " 
 
 " I do not know ! " said she, despondingly. 
 
 The thought of the separation took all her energy 
 from her. 
 
 " Would you like to remain at Moscow and try to 
 make yourself a name there ? I will aid you with all 
 my power. But, dear Helene, have you thought of the 
 danger there would be in two young persons such as 
 you and myself helping each other mutually? Have 
 you considered what the world would say at seeing us 
 always together ? " 
 
 She looked at him, amazed that of himself he should 
 
MARKOF. 465 
 
 have thought of all that. He had been occupying him- 
 self a great deal about her, then! The egotism of 
 which she had often reproached him must have given 
 place to more generous preoccupations. 
 
 " I will do whatever you command, Helene," con- 
 tinued Demiane. "If you would like me to speak 
 about you to Monsieur Roussof, he can begin again for 
 you among his friends, what he has already done for me , 
 and I will go somewhere else, wherever you will tell 
 me to go, so as not to do you any harm ; only you will 
 permit me to write to you, will you not ? " 
 
 Helene did not reply immediately. 
 
 u Mouza asked me to thank you," she said after a 
 silence ; " she says that you have given proof of great 
 kindness in advising Ladof to marry her. I think as 
 she does, Demiane, and I say also that you are good." 
 
 " Good ! oh, no ! " said the young man sadly. " For 
 three weeks, I have been weighing what I am worth, 
 and I am not worth much ! I have weighed also my 
 conduct towards you, Helene, and I have found myself 
 very culpable. When I disposed of you in such an in- 
 solent manner at the villa, you know ? I was mad ! 
 simply mad ! And you have been very generous not to 
 throw my madness in my face ! It is since then that I 
 have understood my stupidity and my pride. You did 
 well to refuse me, Helene, I am not worthy of you. 
 Shall I be some day ? I want to be ! Oh, yes, I want 
 to be ! But can I ? " 
 
 He sighed deeply, and his sigh came from the most 
 sacred part of his being, that part which weeps over 
 our faults when we have returned to reason. 
 29 
 
4G6 MARK OF. 
 
 " One can do all one wills ! " said Helene. " But 
 one must have the will." 
 
 " I will it with all my heart ! " replied De'miane, with 
 force. " But alone and without any advice you will 
 write to me ? " 
 
 " We will remain together," said the young girl, 
 softly. The increasing darkness gave her courage. 
 
 " And the danger of which I spoke just now, and 
 the rumor of our engagement, and the wrong that I 
 have so foolishly done you, and which nothing can re- 
 pair ? Ah ! if you loved me, if you would only love 
 me!" 
 
 " I told you that I do love you," murmured Hdlene. 
 
 " Then, you it is not possible ! Say it to me that 
 I may hear it : you do consent ? " 
 
 " I consent," said the young girl with a voice that 
 had grown firmer. " But, listen to me, De'miane. I 
 can forgive you everything so long as you do not lie. I 
 could forgive you even for failing in your sworn faith 
 to me, which, God forbid, should ever be ! But you 
 are weak. Only, what I would never forgive would be 
 a word of contempt to me or a disdainful action ! I 
 may be wrong, I may do wrong, but I have a soul that 
 is as noble as your own, and in becoming your wife I 
 remain your equal. Let us each be indulgent to the 
 other, dear. We are so weak in the face of evil ! " 
 
 He knelt down before her, and it was on his bowed 
 head that she herself put the kiss of betrothal. 
 
 The next day, at the same hour, our friends took 
 leave of the new couple who had been united in mar- 
 riage that morning. They left the happy little house 
 
MARK OF. 467 
 
 that was going to shelter so much joy, with a feeling 
 of regret that was sweetened by hope. Andre* prom- 
 ised to go and pass the winter in Moscow. It. was at 
 some hundreds of verstes from there that Madame 
 Mianof first heard of her daughter's future destiny. 
 This prospect filled her with perfect happiness, and for 
 a long time all her games of patience were devoted to 
 solving a wise problem : must Helene's wedding dress 
 be of white silk or tarltane ? 
 
 " Not white silk," said De*miane, with a slight shiver, 
 who was finally consulted about it , " I have a horror 
 of white silk ; anything you please, except that." 
 
 Six months after their marriage the couple went to 
 make a visit to Demiane's father, and passed through 
 
 M . The archimandrite had grown old very fast, 
 
 but it seemed as though he would fade away rather 
 than die. He became very fond of little Helene, and 
 confided to her when she was leaving him, a secret 
 which he had kept all his life : it was a roll of sacred 
 chants of which he had composed the music. 
 
 " When I am dead," said he to his little friend, "you 
 will play them. You will have them sung if you can ; 
 but only when I shall have returned to earth ; I do not 
 wish to give myself vain thoughts of pride ; perhaps 
 after my death the good Lord will forgive me them 
 easier." 
 
 His wish was too soon answered, for the following 
 winter he died quietly, without a pain or struggle ; his 
 chants, which were given to the public under a bor- 
 rowed name, have now obtained a wonderful success. 
 The good man was a great musician. 
 
468 MARK OF. 
 
 The Princess married Raben : they alwa} r s live in 
 foreign lands. Since her new marriage Cleopatre has 
 changed her mode of life. It was not because her for- 
 mer one displeased her; but she is afraid horribly 
 afraid of succumbing to some frightful catastrophe if 
 she should step aside from virtue ; since she has lost 
 her fetish, she has become pious. 
 
 It is not rare in the domain of art to see a husband 
 and wife who are united in their hearts and minds, 
 attain, one through the other, a great renown. This 
 destiny has been that of Ddmianc and Helene : fortune 
 and glory have come to them at the same time. Victor 
 teaches their children and is perfectly happy. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Henry Greville's New Works. 
 
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 Married in Haste, 
 
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 Ruby Gray's Strategy 
 
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 The Wife's Secret,.... 
 
 Mary Derwont, 
 
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 75, The Old Homestead,. 
 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 
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 75 
 
 75 
 75 
 75 
 75 
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 75 
 75 
 
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 75 
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 75 
 75 
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 THAT GIRL OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of "That Lover of Mine." 
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 A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN, By Miss Mulock. 
 
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 THE PRIDE OF LIFE. A Love Story, By Lady Jane Scott, 
 
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 TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY; or, Is It Love, or, False Pride? 
 
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feat Works 
 
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 FANCIION, THE CRICKET; or, "LA PETITE FADETTE." By GEORGE 
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 INDIANA. A Love Story. By GEORGE SAND. With a Life of Madame Dudevant, 
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 FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. By GEORGE SAND. Translated from the French. 
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RS. BURNETT'S CHARMING STORIES. 
 
 FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLKltS, AND PUBLISHED BY 
 
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 REPRINTEI> FROM PETERSON'S MAGAZINE," FOR WHICH 
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 [EO." A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
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 .THLEEN. A Love Story. /;// Mrs. Frances Hodgson Bur- 
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 QUIET LIFE; and THE TIDE ON THE MOANING 
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 1SS CRESPIGNY. A Powerful Love Story. By Mrs. Frances 
 
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 toove are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1,00 each in cloth, black and gold. 
 
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 MAJOR JONES'S SKETCHES OF TRAVEL. Full of Illustrations. 
 
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ALEXANDER DUMAS' GREAT WORKS, 
 
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Three New American Novels* 
 
 A HEART TWICE WON 
 
 OR, 
 
 BY MRS. ELIZABETH VAN LOON. 
 
 Author of " Under the Willows ; or, The Three Countesses," 
 
 "The Shadow of Hampton Mead," etc. 
 Bound in Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black. Price $1.50. 
 
 UNDER THE WILLOWS 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE THREE COUNTESSES. 
 BY MRS. ELIZABETH VAN LOON. 
 
 Author of "A Heart Twice Won." 
 Bound in Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black. Price $1.50. 
 
 THE SHADOW OF HAMPTON MEAD. 
 
 A STORY OF THREE FAMILIES. 
 BY MRS. ELIZABETH VAN LOON. 
 
 Author of "A Heart Twice Won." 
 
 Bound in Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black. Price $1.50. 
 
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MRS, SOUTHWORTH'S WORKS. 
 
 EACH IS IN OXE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTH, GILT BACK, PRICE $1.75 EACH. 
 
 All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 
 ISHMAEL; OP, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being "Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.") 
 SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. The Sequel to "Ishmael." 
 THE PHANTOM WEDDING; or, the Fall of the House of Flint. 
 THE "MOTHER-IN-LAW;" or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 
 THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 
 
 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to " A Beautiful Fiend." 
 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 
 THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 
 FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 
 HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to "Fair Play." 
 THE CHANGED BRIDES ; or, Winning Her Way. 
 
 THE BRIDE'S FATE. The Sequel to "The Changed Brides." 
 CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 
 TRIED FOR HER LIFE. The Sequel to " Cruel as the Grave." 
 THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse. 
 THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 
 
 A NOBLE LORD. The Sequel to "The Lost Heir of Llnlithgow." 
 THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 
 THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to "The Family Doom." 
 THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 
 THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 
 
 THE THREE BEAUTIES; or, SHANNONDALE. 
 FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL'S LOVE. 
 THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle. 
 THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 
 THE TWO SISTERS; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 
 THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 
 
 INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON, 
 THE WIDOW'S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. THE WIFE'S VICTORY 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. THE SPECTRE LOVER. 
 
 ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, EUDORA, THE ARTIST'S LOVE. 
 
 THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER. THE FATAL SECRET. 
 
 VIVIA; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. LOVE'S LABOR WON. 
 
 THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. THE LOST HEIRESS. 
 
 BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. THE DESERTED WIFE. RETRIBUTION 
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Emile Zola's Great Works! 
 
 HE ABBE'S~TEMPTATM. 
 
 (LA FAUTE DE L'ABBE MOURET.) 
 
 A. LOVE STORY. 
 
 TVT 
 JML 
 
 AUTHOR OF " L'ASSOMMOIB," " HLANE," ETC., ETC. 
 TRANSLATED PBOM THE PBENCH BY JOHN STIRLING. 
 
 P 1 ' THE ABBE'S TEMPTATION/ " by Emile Zola, writes one of the most noted literart 
 liters in New York, to John Stirling, the translator, "is the sweetest love story I 
 er read, and is a great book, for there is much in the work that is lovely and pathetic. 
 | is a work of marvellous ability, not immoral in any sense, while it teaches a lesson. 
 le Abbe Mourc-f, brother of Helene, who serves to point the moral in Zola's previous 
 >rk, entitled, ' H.'lOne, a Love Kpisode,' is the Cur6 of a poor village whose inhabitants 
 e steeped in all the degradation of peasant life. In the Abbe" is developed the devo- 
 mal spirit of his mother. Innocent of all guile, uncomfortable and blushing at the 
 nfessions of his female parishioners ; l.-v >; <! to the worship of the Virgin Mary, he, 
 jth his half-witted sister, lives a life of purity and happiness, until his mind is 
 ^balanced by the suggestions of a zealot, and by the constant strain on both mind 
 |d body, caused by his incessant vigils. To save his life, his uncle, Dr. Pascal, takes 
 m to a deserted v'illa. and confides him to the care of a half-wild niece of the man 
 charge. Gradually his reason is restored ; and with returning reason comes health, 
 ength and love. His fault no one can condemn but himself. Jn his own hard, 
 iflinching style, Zola dissects the vices of the peasantry, the .salacious nature of the 
 alot, and the animal instincts of his sister; but when he depicts the innocent love 
 
 Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 
 
 EMILE ZOLA'S OTHEE WOEKS. 
 
 'ASSOMMOIR. lly tin He Zola, author of "The Abbe's Temptation," " II61ene," 
 Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 
 
 !; or, UNE PAGE D'AMOUR. T??/ Kmilf 7<>ln, author of " L'Assommoir,* 
 Abbe's Temptation," etc. Pric.- L paper, or $1.25 in oloth. 
 
 \%' Above Book* are for sale ly all Sooktdlen cmd Xcws Agents, or copies Witt b* 
 to any pl<icr ) at once, pfr mail, post-pnift, on, rcmiflinr/ y J\iblwher8, 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
Rancy Cottem's Courtship. 
 
 1V1TH EIGHT FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 BY M^LJOR JOSEPH JONES. 
 
 (OF FINEVILLE, GEORGIA.) 
 
 II 
 
 y 
 
 I- 
 
 k 
 
 s 
 
 t 
 
 II 
 
 It 
 
 " Rancy pulled his chair a little closer, and caught hold of the thread, while she went on kuittin." 
 
 ONE VOLUME, SQUARE 12mo., PAPER COVER. PRICE 50 CENTS. 
 
 SSF Rancy Cottem's Courtship is for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copiet 
 qf it will be sent at once, post-paid, on remit tiny Fifty cents in a letter to the publishers, 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
By author of " L' Assommoir." 
 
 A X.OVE EPISODES. 
 
 (UNE PAGE D'AMOUR.) 
 
 
 AUTHOR OF "I/ASSOMMOIR," "THE ROUGON-MACQUART FAMILY," OR. 
 
 "LA FOR 1 INF. DES KoUtloN," "THE AIJUE'S TEMI'TATlUN," OR, 
 
 "LA 1.M1E L-E L'AI:l;K MuLKET," LIC. 
 
 "EMU.!-: 7<>i.\" r in Franco nt the present day. LTis novel, 
 
 IMOIR," published by T. H. ivti-r^.n ^ lin.thers, Philadelphia, has already 
 lad a sale in Fran< : .. lliimin-fl Thousand Copie, and (< fi KI.KNK; OK, UNK 
 
 ?AGK J>' \vlii.-u is extrenu-ly intt-ri-stin^ indeed, exciting lately issued 
 
 hen-, }\.\.< .-fiu'hth edition. One of tlie most noted liter- 
 
 ary edit rs in New York wrote as follows to the translator: " I have just finished 
 reading, and retarn to yoa by mail, your advance copy of ' ZOLA'S* extraordinary 
 book, ; on, i'NK I'A(.I: D'A.Mouu.' It is admirably written, and is full of 
 
 jowerful and life-like delineation-; -if eharaeter, and in this respect surpasses any of 
 lis preceding j>u!)li<v. \vith your skill, will have no difficulty in ren- 
 
 dering it into pure En^li>li. h it at once, and your publishers 
 
 will have the honor of introducing t,. - hook as well as the greatest writer 
 
 of the day to the Am>-rieau public.." And in a i vi-d by the translator from 
 
 one of the most celebrated critics i:i Paris, hr says : " Why do you not translate 
 ZOLA'S' new book, HKI.KNK; <>i:, L'si: I'AC.I; D'AMoru' at once? It is the great 
 sensation over here. The book is admirably written by a truly groat artist, with a 
 >owerful realism and . Interest, and would he a sj)lendid card for you to play, 
 
 ind woald prove to be a gr in America. The characters and scenes of the 
 
 story are well conceive 1 and well executed, and it is impossible to deny the author's 
 great skill, for e r will acknowledge ' ZOLA'S' gnat power in 'llEi.fiNE.' 
 
 Besides the story, there are many to rapturous descriptions of Paris at 
 
 sunri id at ni^ht. 7-ola ha> made his name famous, and he 
 
 will lind plenty of'readers for all he writes. His name alone will make any book sell." 
 
 Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 
 
MAJOR JONES'S TRAVELS, 
 
 By Author of "Major Jones's Courtship." 
 
 " Says she to Major Jones, I'm a poor woman, my husban' s sick, won't you hold this hundle for me till I g< 
 n the drug-store for some medicin'. I did so, got tired of waiting, and walked down to the lamp-post to se 
 vhat it was. ' It was a live baby,' and the sweat poured out of me, I tell you, in a stream." Page. 114. 
 
 [>NE VOLUME, SQUARE 12mo., PAPER COVER. PRICE 75 CENTS 
 
 $3^" Major Jones's Travels is for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copies of 
 'i will be sent at once, post-paid, on remitting Seventy-five cents in a letter to the publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
Emile Zola's Greatest Work! 
 
 OVER 100,000 COPIES S01D IN FRANCE. 
 
 'ASSOMMOIR! 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE ABBE'S TEMPTATION," " HELENE," ETC. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE TRENCH BY JOHN STIRLING, 
 
 lead u'Jint Dr. G. I). Cor, tfic TAtrrary Editor of TJtc, Philadelphia, Chroniflc- 
 lltrald, sai/s oj ' < L' A.s.sotitmoir," Editorially, in that Paper. 
 
 I* L' ASSOMMOIR," a Novel, by Emile Zola, translated from the French by John Stir- 
 
 |g, is published this day ly T. 15. Peterson A: Brothers, Philadelphia, and is one of 
 
 most wonderful novels ever printed, and for intensity of realism, has no equal, 
 
 ing already alUiim-d a sal.- in France of over One Hundred Thousand Copies. 
 
 e publication in English of this, the greatest novel of the greatest French realistic 
 
 'elist, is, in all scn<f<, an experiment. The 'Assommoir' probes to the uttermost 
 
 )ths the spring* of degradation and depravity among the lower orders of the Parisian 
 
 halation, and the picture presented has not a single touch of varnish. There it is in 
 
 [its hideous and sickening reality, even the coarse local slang is reproduced in such 
 
 Idness us to make the render start, and Zola stops at nothing. He takes his subject 
 
 [he finds it, and reproduces it with the most scrupulous fidelity. Such a novel as 
 
 ^ 'Assommoir,' and such a novelist as 'Zola,' are new to the American public, 
 
 Mr. Stirling, at the instance of his publishers, has undertaken the herculean task 
 
 Mirifying the. 'Asxommoir,' that our readers may get the gist of the great book 
 
 let yet not be shocked. It is but just to say that he has done his work with much 
 
 ill" and judgment. Mr. Stirling gives the story, its animus and its vivid local color- 
 
 f, but he does so in a refined way, and, strange to say, he has not weakened the 
 
 ssommoir' in the Iea<r by so dofng. He shows Gervaise, her struggles to be an 
 
 [nest woman, her troubles, and her final fall into the slough of sin, ending in a 
 
 luper's death. He shows ( 'nupeau, at first a good citizen and an estimable man, then 
 
 jsing through all the stages of drunkenness to his end by delirium tremens in th 
 
 spital. The smooth-tongued Lantier, Nana, who took naturally to sin, and Goujet, 
 
 manly and virtuous blacksmith, are all there. We would advise all who cannot 
 
 ..ci the 'Assommoir' in the original French to read Mr. Stirling's version of it. 
 
 icy will find the book a curiosity, to say the least of it." 
 
 Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 
 
 Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copies will bt 
 to any place, at once, per mail, post-paid, on remitting price to the Publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSOX & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
Major Jones's Courtship, 
 
 WITH 21 FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 BY MA.JOR JOSEPH JOISTES. 
 
 (OF PINEVILKE, GEORGIA.) 
 
 i 
 
 84 
 
 M 
 
 IS 
 
 i 
 
 s 
 
 * /^ 
 
 If 
 
 II 
 
 "By this time the galls was holt of my coat-tail, hollerin as hard as they could.'* 
 ONE VOLUME, SQUARE 12mo., PAPER COVER. PRICE 75 CENTS, 
 
 Jtep" Major Jones's Courtship is for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copies oj 
 8 be sent at once, post-paid, on remitting Seventy-five cents in a letter to the publishers, 
 T. B. PETEKSOX & BliOTHJtiKS, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
AJOR JONES'S COURTSHIP 
 
 AND HIS OTHER BOOKS, FOE SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, AXD PUBLISHED BY 
 
 B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 Major Jones's Courtship. 
 
 IAJOR JONES'S COURTSHIP. Detailed, with Humorous Scenes, Inci- 
 its, ami Adventures. l>y Major Joseph Jones, author of "Ilancy Cot- 
 In's Courtship," " Major Jones's Sketches <>!' Travel," "Major Jones's 
 [ro nicies of Piueville," e -ed and Enlarged. With Twenty-One 
 
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