Boris Lensky

which the charm of music can exercise over huma

the longing, listening expression on the faces of the women who hear him is something which remains forever interwoven in remembrance with the complaining sweetnes

st, and in explanation of the godless charm which glo

like that of all repulsed ones. Then the devil met him, and allured him with splendid temptations. He would lay the whole world at his feet, if the boy would give him his soul for his own in exchange. But the boy felt a terror at this hellish slavery and said: 'No.' Then the devil at firs

devil rejoiced, for he said to himself: 'If I have lost one soul, I have taken ten thou

the world, restless, joyless, and without power over his own demoniac art--a resisting tool in the devil'

he Russ

n him the evermore plainly noticeable signs of physical decay. In his art he stands greater than

st glance one perceived the Englishwoman and the spinster. She sits in a pretty, charming room, furnished

in P

revels is Figaro, and the windows of the pre

same room busies herself in hastily, and to all appearance d

called forth no remark from her list

o you say to

oks, with blameless English accent, but in a decidedly un-English deep, soft voice--"

y; "you surely will not assert that t

calm answer. "I am firmly convinced that Lens

her wrinkled hands sink down on her cinnamon-colored dress. "But, advertisement or not, Nita, Lensky's results speak for themselves. The P

s. Then, see here!" And Nita, for the first time in the course of the above conversation, turned her face to the old lady, while at the same time she drew a number of yellow books out from the package which she had been busy glancing over. Piling these up on each other, she said

ver any Russian worship," remarks the old Englishwoman phlegmatically. "You

olitics is one sentenced to never perceive one's errors. I also once had a violent passion for Russia leather, and I have

ith astonishment, sat there motionless in the position of an Assyrian goddess, still with a hand o

es darkened. "Good-by, Miss Wilmot," said she, without replying

ea before you go, Nita?" the

mised Sonia to come; so once more adieu; and I beg of you, send all this plunder"--pointing to the books---"back

ion at the door which has just closed behind her young friend. Then she wishes to again take up Figaro in order to translate the article