SIELANKA _An Idyll_ BY HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ TRANSLATED BY VATSLAF A. HLASKO and THOS. H. BULLICK R. F. FENNO & COMPANY : 9 AND 11 EASTSIXTEENTH STREET : : NEW YORK CITY1898 Copyright, 1897 BY R. F. FENNO & COMPANY SIELANKA. _An Idyll. _ In the woods, in the deep woods, was an open glade in which stood thehouse of the forester Stephan. The house was built of logs packed withmoss, and the roof was thatched with straw; hard by the house stoodtwo outbuildings; in front of it was a piece of fenced-in ground, andan old well with a long, crooked sweep; the water in the well wascovered with a green vegetation at the edges. Opposite the windows grew sunflowers and wild hollyhocks, high, stately, and covered with blossoms as if with a swarm of gorgeousbutterflies; between the sunflowers there peeped the red heads of thepoppy; around the hollyhocks entwined sweet peas with pink blossomsand morning-glories; close to the ground grew nasturtiums, marigolds, primroses, and asters, pale because they were shaded from the sunlightby the leaves of the hollyhocks and sunflowers. The fenced ground on either side of the pathway leading to the housewas planted with vegetables--carrots, beets, and cabbage; further offin a separate fenced-in lot there waved with each breath of wind thetender blue flower of the flax; still beyond could be seen the darkgreen of the potato patch; the rest of the clearing was checkered withthe variegated shades of the different cereals that ran to the edge ofthe lake which touched the glade on one side. Near to the house a few trees were growing. Some were cherry trees, and one was a birch, with long, slender branches which swayed in thewind, and with every breeze its leaves touched the dilapidatedmoss-covered straw thatch of the roof; when the stronger gusts of windbent its boughs to the wall, and pressed its twigs and the waves ofleaves against the roof, it would seem as if the tree loved the houseand embraced it. In this tree the sparrows made their home; the rustling of the leavesand twigs commingled with the chirp and joyous noise of the birds; inthe eaves of the house the doves had built their nests, and the placewas filled with their speech, cooing and calling to each other, entreating and discussing as is customary between doves, these noisyand talkative people. At times it happened that they were startled by some unknown cause;then around the house was heard a loud flapping, the air was filledwith the whirl of wings and a multitude of white-feathered breasts;you could hear tumult, noise and excited cries--the whole flock flewout suddenly, circled round the house, now near, now far off. Sometimes they melted in the blue, sometimes their white feathersreflected the sunlight, again they hung over the house, undulating inthe air, and alighting at last like a downfall of snowflakes on thegray straw of the roof. If this occurred in the rosy morning or in the splendor of the redsetting sun, then in the glory of the air these doves were not white, but tinted pink, and settled on the roof and birch tree as flames orscattered rose leaves. At twilight, when the sun had hidden itself beyond the woods, thiscooing under the roof and chirping in the birch tree became graduallyquiet. The sparrows and the doves shook the dew from their wings andprepared to sleep; sometimes one of them gave voice once more, butmore rarely, more softly, more drowsily, and then all was silent--thedusk was falling from the heavens upon the earth. The house, cherrytrees, and birch were losing their form, mingling together, melting, and veiled in a mist which rose from the lake. Around the glade, as far as the eye could reach, there stretched thewall of dark pine trees and thick undergrowth. This wall was broken inone place by a wide dividing line, which reached to the edge of thelake. The lake was a very large one, the opposite side was nearly lostto view, and in the mist could be hardly discerned the red roof andsteeple of a church, and the black line of the woods closing thehorizon beyond the church. The pines were looking from the high sandy banks upon their reflectionin the lake as if in a mirror, and it seemed as if there was anotherforest in the water; and when the trees were swaying on the earth theywere also swaying in the water, and when they quivered on the earththey seemed to quiver in the water; as they stood in the still airmotionless, then every needle of the pines was painted distinctly onthe smooth, unruffled surface, and the straight trunks of the treesstanding like rows of pillars reaching afar off into infinity. In themiddle of the lake the water in the daytime reflected the sun, and inthe morning and the evening the glories of its rising and its setting;at night the moon and stars; and it seemed to be as deep as the domeof the sky above us is high, beyond the sun, moon, and stars. In the house dwelt the forester, named Stephan, and his daughter, Kasya, a maiden of sixteen. Kasya was the light of the household, asbright and fresh as the morning. She was brought up in great innocenceand in the fear of God. Her uncle, who was now dead, and who was apoor but devout man, the organist of the neighboring church, hadtaught her to read her prayer book, and her education was perfected byher communing with nature. The bees taught her to work, the dovestaught her purity, the happy sparrows to speak joyfully to her father, the quiet water taught her peace, the serenity of the sky taught hercontemplation, the matin-bell of the distant church called her todevotion, and the universal good in all nature, which reflected thelove of God, sank deep into her soul. Therefore the father and Kasya led a peaceful and happy life, surrounded by the silence and solitude of the woods. One noon, before Ascension Day, Stephan came home to his dinner. Hehad visited a large tract of the forest, so he arrived weary, havingreturned through the thickets of the swamp. Kasya placed the dinner onthe table, and after they had finished and she had fed the dog andwashed the dishes, she said: "Papa. " "What is it?" "I shall go into the woods. " "Go, go, " adding jestingly, "and let some wolf or wild beast devouryou. " "I shall go and gather herbs. To-morrow is Ascension Day and they willbe needed in the church. " "If so, you can go. " She covered her head with a yellow kerchief embroidered with blueflowers, and looking for her basket she began singing: "The falcon came flying, the falcon came grey. " The old man began to grumble: "If you were as fond of working as youare of singing. " Kasya, who was standing on her tiptoes to look on a shelf, turned herhead to her father, laughed merrily, and showing her white teeth, sangagain as if to tease him: "He hoots in the woods and the cuckoo's his prey. " "You would be glad yourself to be a cuckoo until a falcon came, " saidthe old man. "Perhaps 'tis falcon who is at the turpentine works? butthis is folly. You can't earn a piece of bread by singing. " Kasya again sang: "Hoot not thou, my falcon, unhappy thy quest, In the depths of the lake thy cuckoo doth rest. " Then she said: "Wilt thou decorate the room with the evergreens for to-morrow? Ishall return in time to milk the cows, but they should be brought fromthe pasture. " She found her basket, kissed her father, and went out. Old Stephan gothis unfinished fishing-net, and seated himself on a bench outside thedoor. He gathered his twine, and half-closing one eye he tried tothread his netting needle; after several attempts he succeeded andbegan to work. From time to time he watched Kasya. She was walking on the left sideof the lake; against the background of the sandy banks she stood outin relief as if in a picture. Her white waist and red striped skirtand yellow kerchief glistened in the sunlight like a variegatedflower. Though it was spring the heat was unbearable. After she hadgone about half a mile she turned aside and disappeared into thewoods. The afternoon hours were hot in the sun, but in the shade ofthe trees it was quite cool. Kasya pressed forward, suddenly stopped, smiled, and blushed like a rose. In front of her in the pathway stood a youth about eighteen years ofage. This youth was the turpentine worker, from the edge of the woods, whowas now on his way to visit Stephan. "The Lord be praised!" said he. "Forever and ever, " answered she, and in her confusion she covered herface with her apron, peeping shyly out of a corner of it and smilingat her companion. "Kasya, " said he. "What is it, John?" "Is your father at home?" "He is. " The turpentine worker, poor fellow, perhaps desired to speak ofsomething else beside the father, but somehow he was frightened andunconsciously inquired for him; then he became silent and waited forKasya to speak to him first. She stood confused, twisting the cornersof her apron. At last she spoke. "John?" "What is it, Kasya?" "Does the turpentine works smoke to-day?" She also wished to speak ofsomething else. "Why should it not? The turpentine works never stop. I left lame Frankthere; but dost thou wish to go there?" "No, I go to gather plants. " "I will go with thee, and on our return, if thou dost not chase meaway, I will come to thy house. " "Why should I chase thee away?" "If thou dost like me thou wilt not chase me away, and if thou dostnot, then thou wilt. Tell me, Kasya, dost thou like me?" "Fate, my fate, " and Kasya covered her face with her hands. "What canI say to thee? I like thee, John, very much I like thee, " shewhispered faintly. Then before he could reply she uncovered her blushing face and criedout, "Let us go and gather plants; let us hurry. " And so went they, John and Kasya. The radiance of love surroundedthem, but these simple children of nature dared not speak of it. Theyfelt it, although they knew not what they felt; they were embarrassedbut happy. Never before had the forest sung so wonderfully over theirheads, never was the wind so sweet and caressing, never at any timehad the noises of the forest, the rustling of the breeze in the trees, the voices of the birds, the echoes of the woods, seemed to merge intosuch an angelic choir, so sweet and grand, as at this moment, full ofunconscious happiness. Oh, holy power of love! how good an angel of light thou art, how rosyan aureole in the dusk, how bright a rainbow on the cloud of humantears! Meanwhile, in the woods resounded echoes from pine to pine, thebarking of the dog, Burek, who had escaped from the house and ran onthe pathway after Kasya. He came panting heavily, and with great joyhe jumped with his big paws on Kasya and John, and looked from one tothe other with his wise and mild eyes, as if wishing to say: "I see that you love one another; this is good. " He wagged his tail and ran quickly ahead of them, then circled roundto them, then stopped, barked once more with joy, and rushed into thewoods, looking back from time to time on the boy and girl. Kasya put her hand to her forehead, and looking upward upon the brightsun between the leaves she said: "Just think, the sun is two hours beyond noontime and we have not yetgathered any plants. Go thou, John, to the left side and I shall gothe right, and let us begin. We should hasten, for the dear Lord'ssake. " They separated and went into the woods, but not far from one anotherand in a parallel direction, so that they could see each other. Amongthe ferns between the pine trees could be seen fluttering thevari-colored skirt and yellow kerchief of Kasya. The slender, supplemaiden seemed to float amid the berry-laden bushes, mosses and ferns. You would say it was some fairy _wila_ or _rusalka_ of the woods;every moment she stooped and stood erect again, and so, further andfurther, passing the pine trees, she entered deeper into the forest assome spritely nymph. Sometimes the thick growth of young hemlocks and cedars would concealher from view, then John stopped, and putting his hand to his mouthwould shout, "Halloo! Halloo!" Kasya heard it; she stopped with a smile, and pretending that she didnot see him, answered in a high, silvery voice: "John!" The echo answers: "John! John!" Meanwhile Burek had espied a squirrel up a tree, and, standing beforeit looking upward, barked. The squirrel sitting on a branch coveredherself with her tail in a mocking manner, lifted her forepaws to hermouth and rubbed her nose, seemed to play with her forefingers, makegrimaces, and laugh at the anger of Burek. Kasya, seeing it, laughedwith a resounding, silvery tone, and so did John, and so the woodswere filled with the sound of human voices, echoes, laughter and sunnyjoy. Sometimes there was a deep silence, and then the woods seemed tospeak; the breeze struck the fronds of the ferns, which emitted asharp sound; the trunks of the pines swayed and creaked, and there wassilence again. Then could be heard the measured strokes of the woodpecker. It seemedas if some one kept knock--knocking at a door, and you could evenexpect that some mysterious voice would ask: "Who is there?" Again, the wood thrush was whistling with a sweet voice; thegolden-crowned hammer plumed his feathers. In the thicket thepheasants clucked and the bright green humming birds flitted betweenthe leaves; sometimes on the top of the pine tree a crow, hidingitself from the heat of the sun, lazily flapped its wings. On this afternoon the weather was most clear, the sky was cloudless, and above the green canopy of the leaves there spread out the bluedome of the heavens--immense, limitless, transparently gray-tinted onthe sides and deep blue above. In the sky stood the great golden sun;the space was flooded with light; the air was bright and serene, andfar-off objects stood out distinctly, their forms clearly defined. From the height of heaven the eye of the great Creator embraced thewhole earth; in the fields the grain bowed to Him with a golden wave, rustled the heavy heads of the wheat, and the delicate tasseled oatstrembled like a cluster of tiny bells. In the air, filled withbrightness here and there, floated the spring thread of the spider'sweb, blue from the azure of the sky and golden from the sun, as if averitable thread from the loom of the Mother of God. In the vales between the fields of the waving grain stood dark-greenmeadows; here and there were crystal springs, around whose edges thegrass was greener still; the whole meadows were sprinkled with yellowbuttercups and dandelions which struck the eye with a profusion ofgolden brightness. In the wet places there thrived cypress trees, which had an air of coldness and moisture. In the woods among the pine trees there were now both heat andsilence. It seemed as if a dreamy stillness enveloped the whole world. Not a breath of wind stirred; the trees, grain, and grass weremotionless. The leaves hung on the trees as if rocked to sleep; thebirds had ceased their noises, and the moment of rest had come. Butthis rest seemed to come from an ineffable sweetness, and all natureseemed to meditate. Only the great expanse of heaven seemed to smile, and somewhere, high in the unknowable depths of its blue, the greatand beneficent God was glad with the gladness of the fields, thewoods, the meadows, and the waters. Kasya and John were still busy in the woods collecting herbs, laughinggleefully and speaking to each other joyfully. Man is as artless as abird; he will sing when he can, for this is his nature. John now beganto sing a simple and touching song. As Kasya and John sang in unison the last refrain of the song endedmournfully, and as if in accompaniment the echo repeated it in thedark depths of the woods; the pines gave resonance as the words ranbetween their trunks and died away in the far distance like a sigh, less distinct, light, ethereal; then silence. Later Kasya sang a more cheerful song, beginning with the words: "I shall become a ring of gold now. " This is a good song. A willful young girl quarrels with her lover andenumerates the means she intends to use to escape from him. But it isuseless. When she says that she will be a golden ring and will rollaway on the road, he says that he will quickly see and recover her. When she wants to be a golden fish in the water he sings to her of thesilken net; when she wants to be a wild fowl on the lake he appearsbefore her as a hunter. At last the poor maiden, seeing she is unableto hide herself from him on the earth, sings: "I shall become a star in heaven, Light to earth by will be given. My love to thee I shall not render, Nor my sweet will to thee surrender. " But the undaunted youth answers: "Then shall I pray to the saint's grace That the star may fall from its heavenly place. Thy love to me thou then wilt render, And thy sweet will to me surrender. " The maiden, seeing there is no refuge either in heaven or on earth forher, accepts the view of Providence and sings: "I see, I see, fate's decree doth bind me; Where'er I hide, thou sure wilt find me. My love to thee I must now render, And my sweet will to thee surrender. " John, turning to Kasya, said: "Do you understand?" "What, John?" He began to sing: "Thy love to me thou must now render, And thy sweet will to me surrender. " Kasya was troubled, and laughed loudly to cover her confusion; andwishing to speak, she said: "I have gathered a large lot of plants; it would be well to dip themin water, for in this heat they will wither. " Verily the heat was great; the wind had entirely ceased. In the woods, though in the shade, the air vibrated with moist heat, the pinesexuding a strong, resinous odor. The delicate, golden-tinted face ofKasya was touched with perspiration, and her blue eyes showed tracesof weariness. She removed the kerchief from her head, and began to fanherself. John, taking the basket from her, said: "Here, Kasya, stand two aspen trees, and between them a spring. Come, let us drink. " Both went. After a short interval they noticed that the ground of theforest began to slope here. Among the trees, instead of bushes, fernsand dry mosses, there was a green, damp turf, then one aspen tree, then another, and after them whole rows. They entered into this dark, humid retreat, where the rays of the sun, passing through the leaves, took on their color and reflected on the human face a pale greenlight. John and Kasya descended lower and lower into the shadows anddampness; a chilliness breathed upon them, refreshing after the heatof the woods; and in a moment, between the rows of the aspen trees, they espied in the black turf a deep stream of water winding its wayunder and through canes and bushy thickets, and interspersed with thelarge, round leaves of the water-lilies, which we call "_nenufars_, "and by the peasants are called "white flowers. " Beautiful was this spot, quiet, secluded, shady, even somewhat sombreand solemn. The transparent stream of water wound its way between thetrees. The _nenufars_, touched by the light movement of the water, swayed gently backward and forward, leaning toward each other as ifkissing. Above their broad leaves, lying like shields on the surfaceof the water, swarmed indigo-colored insects with wide, translucent, sibilant wings, so delicate and fragile that they are justly calledwater-sprites. Black butterflies, with white-edged, mournful wings, rested on the sharp, slender tops of the tamarack. On the dark turfblossomed blue forget-me-nots. On the edge of the stream grew somealder trees, and under the bushes peeped out heads of thelily-of-the-valley, bluebells and honeysuckles. The white heads of the_biedrzenica_ hung over the waters; the silvery threads of the_strojka_ spread out upon the current of the stream and weavedthemselves into thin and long strands; besides--seclusion--a wildspot, forgotten by men, peaceful, peopled only with the world ofbirds, flowers and insects. In such places generally dwell nymphs, _rusalki_, and other bad orgood forest sprites. Kasya, who was in advance, stood first on thebanks of the stream and looked upon the water in which was reflectedher graceful form. She verily appeared as one of those beautifulforest spirits as they are seen sometimes by the woodsmen or lumbermen who float on their rafts down the rivers through the woods. Shehad no covering upon her head, and the wind gently played with herlocks and ruffled her ray-like hair. Sunburned she was, blond-haired, and her eyes, as blue as turquoise, were as laughing as her lips. Besides, she was a divinely tall, slender, and fairy-like maiden. Noone could swear, if she was suddenly startled, that she would not jumpinto the water--would not dissolve into mist--into rainbow rays--wouldnot turn quickly into a water-lily or _kalina_ tree, which, whenrobbed of its flowers, remonstrates with a voice so human, yetrecalling the sigh of the forest: "Don't touch me. " Kasya, bending over the water so that her tresses fell on hershoulders, turned toward John and said: "How shall we drink?" "As birds, " answered John, pointing to some silver pheasants on theopposite side of the stream. John, who knew how to help himself better than the birds, plucked alarge leaf from a tree, and, making a funnel out of it, filled it withwater and gave it to Kasya. They both drank, then Kasya gathered some forget-me-nots, and Johnwith his knife made a flute from the willow bark, on which, when hehad finished, he began to play the air which the shepherds play in theeventide on the meadows. The soft notes floated away with ineffabletenderness in this secluded spot. Shortly he removed the flute andlistened intently as if to catch an echo returning from the aspentrees, and it seemed that the clear stream, the dark aspen trees, andthe birds hidden in the canes listened to these notes with him. All became silent, but shortly, as if in answer--as if achallenge--came the first faint note of the nightingale, followed by astronger trill. The nightingale wanted to sing--it challenged theflute. Now he began to sing. All nature was listening to this divine singer. The lilies lifted their heads above the water; the forget-me-notspressed closer together; the canes ceased to rustle; no bird dared topeep except an unwise and absent-minded cuckoo, who with her silentwing alighted near by on a dry bough, lifted her head, widely openedher beak, and foolishly called aloud: "Cuckoo! cuckoo!" Afterward it seemed as if she was ashamed of her outbreak, and shequietly subsided. Vainly Kasya, who stood on the edge of the stream with theforget-me-nots in her hand, turned to the side from whence came thevoice of the cuckoo and queried: "Cuckoo, blue-gray cuckoo, how long shall I live?" The cuckoo answered not. "Cuckoo, shall I be rich?" The cuckoo was silent. Then John: "Cuckoo, gray cuckoo, how soon will I wed?" The cuckoo replied not. "She cares not to answer us, " said John; "let us return to theforest. " On returning they found the large stone by which they had placed thebasket and bunches of herbs. Kasya, seating herself beside it, beganto weave garlands, and John helped her. Burek lay near them, stretchedhis hairy forepaws, lolled out his tongue and breathed heavily fromfatigue, looking carefully around to see if he could not spy someliving thing to chase and enjoy his own noise. But everything in thewoods was quiet. The sun was traveling toward the west, and throughthe leaves and the needles of the pines shot his rays, becoming moreand more red, covering the ground of the woods in places with greatgolden circles. The air was dry; in the west were spreading greatshafts of golden light, which flooded all like an ocean of molten goldand amber. The wondrous beauties of the peaceful, warm spring eveningwere glowing in the sky. In the woods the daily work was graduallyceasing. The noise of the woodpecker had stopped; black and bronzedants returned in rows to their hills, which were red in the rays ofthe setting sun. Some carried in their mouths pine needles and someinsects. Among the herbs here and there circled small forest bees, humming joyfully as they completed their last load of the sweetflower-dust. From the fissures in the bark of the trees came gloomyand blind millers; in the streams of the golden light circled swarmsof midgets and gnats scarcely visible to the eye; mosquitoes begantheir mournful song. On the trees the birds were choosing their placesfor the night; a yellow bird was softly whistling; the crows flappedtheir wings, crowding all on one tree and quarreling about the bestplaces. But these voices were more and more rare, and became fainter;gradually all ceased, and the silence was interrupted by the eveningbreeze playing among the trees. The poplar tree tried to lift herbluish-green leaves upward; the king-oak murmured softly; the leavesof the birch tree slightly moved--silence. Now the sky became more red; in the east the horizon became dark blue, and all the voices of the woods merged into a chorus, solemn, deep andimmense. Thus the forest sings its evening song of praise, and saysits prayers before it sleeps; tree speaks to tree of the glory of God, and you would say that it spoke with a human voice. Only very innocent souls understand this great and blessed speech. Only very innocent hearts hear and understand when the first chorus ofthe parent oaks begins its strain: "Rejoice, O sister pines, and be glad. The Lord hath given a warm andpeaceful day, and now above the earth He makes the starry night. Greatis the Lord, and mighty, powerful and good is He, so let there beglory to Him upon the heights, upon the waters, upon the lands, andupon the air. " And the pines pondered a moment upon the words of the oaks, and thenthey raised their voices together, saying: "Now, O Lord, to thy great glory, we, as censers, offer to Thee theincense of our sweet-smelling balsam, strong, resinous and fragrant. 'Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. '" Then the birches said: "Thy evening brightness illumines the heavens, O Lord! and in Thysplendors our small leaves golden are and burning. Now with our goldenleaves we sing to Thee, O Lord, and our delicate twigs play as thestrings of the harp, O good Father of ours!" Again the sorrowing cypress said: "Upon our sad foreheads, exhausted with the heat, softly falls theevening dew. Praise be to Thee, O Lord; brothers and sisters rejoice, because there falls the cooling dew. " Amid this chorus of trees the aspen alone trembles and is afraid; forit gave the wood for the Cross of the Saviour of the world; at timesit faintly groans: "O Lord, have mercy upon me. Have mercy upon me, O Lord. " Again, sometimes, when the oaks and pines cease for a moment, thererises from under their feet a faint, modest voice, low as the murmurof insects, silent as silence itself, which says: "A small berry am I, O Lord, and hidden in the moss. But Thou wilthear, discern and love me; though small, devout am I, and sing Thyglory. " Thus every evening prays the forest, and these orchestral sounds riseat every sunset from earth to heaven--and float high, high, reachingwhere there is no creature, where there is nothing only the silverydust and the milky way of the stars, and above the stars--God. At this moment the sun hides his radiant head in the far-distant seas;the farmer turns upward his plowshares and hastens to his cottage. From the pastures return the bellowing herds; the sheep raise cloudsof the golden dust. The twilight falls; in the village creek the wellsweeps; later the windows shine, and from the distance comes thebarking of the dogs. The sun had not gone beyond the woods when Kasya had seated herselfunder the mossy stone to weave her garlands. Its rays were thrown uponher face, broken by the shadows of the leaves and twigs. The work didnot proceed rapidly, for Kasya was tired from heat and running in thewoods. Her sunburnt hands moved slowly at her work. The warm breezekissed her temples and face, and the voices of the forest lulled herto sleep. Her large eyes became heavy and drowsy; her eyelashes beganto close slowly; she leaned her head against the stone, opened hereyes once more as a child looking upon the divine beauty of the world;then the noise of the trees, the rows of the stumps, the ground fullof pine needles, and the skies that could be seen between the branchesall became indistinct, darkened, dissolved, disappeared--and shesmiled and slept. Her head was hidden in a soft shade, but thecovering of her breast shone all rosy and purple. Her soft breathinglifted her bosom gently; so wonderful and beautiful she looked in thisquiet sleep in the evening rays that John looked upon her as if uponthe image of a saint, glorious with gold, and colored as the rainbow. Kasya's hands were clinging yet to the unfinished garland of herbs. She slept with a sleep light and sweet, for she smiled through herdreams as a child who speaks with the angels. Perhaps she verilyconversed with angels, for pure she was as a child, and had dedicatedher whole day to the service of God by gathering and weaving thegarlands for His temple. John was sitting by her side, but he did not sleep. His simple breastcould not contain the feelings that arose there; he felt as if hissoul had got wings and was preparing to fly away to the realms ofheaven. He knew not what was happening to him, and he only raised hiseyes to the skies and was motionless; you would say that love hadtransfigured him. Kasya slumbered on, and for a long time they both remained there. Meanwhile the dusk came. The remnants of the purple light fought withthe darkness. The interior of the woods deepened--became dumb. Fromthe canes of the lake near the glade with its cottage came the buzzingof a night beetle. Suddenly on the other side of the lake from the church rang out theAngelus bell. Its tones floated on the wings of the evening breezeover the face of the quiet waters, clear, resonant, and distinct. Itcalled the faithful to prayer, and also proclaimed: "Rest! Enough ofwork and the heat of the day, " spoke the bell. "Wrap yourself to sleepin the wing of God. Come, come ye weary to Him--in Him is joy! Here ispeace! here gladness! here sleep! here sleep! here sleep!" John took off his hat at the sound of the bell, Kasya shook the sleepfrom her eyes, and said: "The bell rings. " "For the Angel of the Lord. " Both kneeled near by the mossy stone as if before an altar. Kasyabegan to pray with a low, soft voice: "The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary, " "And she conceived by the Holy Ghost, " answered John. "Behold the handmaiden of the Lord; may it be done to me according toThy word. " * * * * * Thus kneeling, prayed these children of God. The silent summerlightning shone from the east to the west, and upon its light flewdown from heaven a radiant host of winged angels, and hovered abovetheir heads. Then they blended with the angels and were themselves asif angels, for upon earth there were no two souls more bright, morepure, more innocent. ORSO. The last days of autumn in Anaheim, a town situated in SouthernCalifornia, are days of joy and celebration. The grape gathering isfinished and the town is crowded with the vineyard hands. There isnothing more picturesque than the sight of these people, composedpartly of a sprinkling of Mexicans, but mainly of Cahuilla Indians, who come from the wild mountains of San Bernardino to earn some moneyby gathering grapes. They scatter through the streets and marketplaces, called lolas, where they sleep in tents or under the roof ofthe sky, which is always clear at this time of the year. Thisbeautiful city, surrounded with its growths of eucalyptus, olive, castor, and pepper trees, is filled with the noisy confusion of afair, which strangely contrasts with the deep and solemn silence ofthe plains, covered with cacti, just beyond the vineyards. In theevening, when the sun hides his radiant head in the depths of theocean, and upon the rosy sky are seen in its light the equallyrosy-tinted wings of the wild geese, ducks, pelicans and cranes, descending by the thousands from the mountains to the ocean, then inthe town the lights are lit and the evening amusements begin. Thenegro minstrels play on bones, and by the campfires can be heard thepicking of the banjo; the Mexicans dance on an out-spread poncha theirfavorite bolero; Indians join in the dance, holding in their teethlong white sticks of kiotte, or beating time with their hands, andexclaiming, "E viva;" the fires, fed with redwood, crackle as theyblaze, sending up clouds of bright sparks, and by its reflection canbe seen the dancing figures, and around them the local settlers withtheir comely wives and sisters watching the scene. The day on which the juice from the last bunch of grapes is trampledout by the feet of the Indians is generally celebrated by the adventof Hirsch's Circus, from Los Angeles. The proprietor of the circus isa German, and besides owns a menagerie composed of monkeys, jaguars, pumas, African lions, one elephant, and several parrots, childish withage--"_The greatest attraction of the world. _" The Cahuilla will givehis last peso, if he has not spent it on drink, to see not only wildanimals--for these abound in the San Bernardino Mountains--but to seethe circus girls, athletes, clowns, and all its wonders, which seem tohim as "a great medicine"--that is, magical feats, impossible ofaccomplishment except by the aid of supernatural powers. Mr. Hirsch, the proprietor of the circus, would be very angry with anyone who would dare to say that his circus only attracted Mexicans, Indians, and Chinese. Certainly not; the arrival of the circus bringshither not only the people of the town and vicinity, but even those ofthe neighboring towns of Westminster, Orange, and Los Nietos. OrangeStreet is crowded with buggies and wagons of divers shapes, so that itis difficult to get through. The whole world of settlers come as oneman. Young, bright girls, with their hair prettily banged over theireyes, sitting on the front seats, drive some of these vehicles, andgracefully upset passing pedestrians, chatter and show their whiteteeth; the Spanish senoritas from Los Nietos cover you with theirwarm, ardent glances from under their lace mantillas; the marriedwomen from the country, dressed in their latest and best fashions, lean with pride on the arms of the sunburned farmers, who are dressedin old hats, jean pants, and flannel shirts, fastened with hook andeye, and without neckties. All these people meet and greet each other, gossip, and the womeninspect with critical eye the dresses of their neighbors, to see ifthey are "very fashionable. " Among the buggies are some covered with flowers, which look like hugebouquets; the young men, mounted on mustangs, bend from their highMexican saddles and peer under the hats of the young girls; thehalf-wild horses, frightened by the noise and confusion, look here andthere with their bloodshot eyes, curvet, rear, and try to unseat theirriders, but the cool riders seem to pay no attention to them. They all speak of "the greatest attraction, " which was about to exceleverything that had been seen before. Truly the flaming postersannounced genuine wonders. The proprietor, Hirsch, that renowned"artist of the whip, " will in the arena give a contest with a fierce, untamed African lion. The lion, according to the programme, springsupon the proprietor, whose only defense is his whip. This simpleweapon in his hands (according to the programme) will change itselfinto a fiery sword and shield. The end of this whip will sting as arattlesnake, flash as lightning, shoot as a thunderbolt, and keep at aproper distance the enraged monster, who vainly roars and tries tojump on the artist. This is not the end yet: sixteen-year-old Orso, an"American Hercules, " born of a white father and Indian mother, willcarry around six people, three on each shoulder; besides this, themanagement offers one hundred dollars to any man, regardless of color, who can throw Orso in a wrestling match. A rumor arose in Anaheim thatfrom the mountains of San Bernardino comes for this purpose the"Grizzly Killer, " a hunter who was celebrated for his bravery andstrength, and who, since California was settled, was the first man whoattacked these great bears single-handed and armed only with a knife. It is the probable victory of the "Grizzly Killer" over thesixteen-year-old athlete of the circus that highly excites the mindsof the males of Anaheim, because if Orso, who until now, from theAtlantic to the Pacific, had overthrown the strongest Americans, willbe defeated, great glory will cover all California. The feminine mindsare not less excited by the following number of the programme: Orsowill carry, on a pole thirty feet high, a small fairy, the "Wonder ofthe World, " of which the poster says that she is the most beautifulgirl that ever lived on this earth since the beginning of the"Christian Era. " Though she is only thirteen years of age, themanagement also offers one hundred dollars to every maiden, "withoutregard to color of skin, " who will dare to compete and wrest the palmof beauty from this "Aerial Angel. " The maidens of Anaheim, both greatand small, make grimaces on reading this, and say that it would not beladylike to enter such a contest. Nevertheless they gladly surrenderthe comfort of their rocking chairs rather than miss the show and thechance of seeing their childish rival, in whose beauty, in comparisonwith the sisters Bimpa, for instance, none of them believed. The twosisters Bimpa, the elder Refugio, and the younger Mercedes, sittinggracefully in a handsome buggy, are now reading the posters; theirfaces show no trace of emotion, though they feel that the eyes ofAnaheim are on them, as if supplicating them to save the honor of thewhole county, and with a patriotic pride, founded upon the convictionthat there is none more beautiful than these two California flowers inall the mountains and caņons of the whole world. Oh, beautiful indeedare the sisters Refugio and Mercedes! Not in vain does the pureCastilian blood flow in their veins, to which their mother constantlyrefers, showing her disdain for all colored races, as well as for theAmericans. The figures of the sisters are slender, subtle, and full of mysteriousgrace, quiet, and so luxurious that they greatly impress all young menwho come near them. From Donnas Refugio and Mercedes exhales a charmas the fragrance from the magnolia and the lily. Their faces aredelicate, complexions transparent with a slight rosy tint, as ifillumed with the dawn; the eyes dark and dreamy, sweet, innocent, andtender in their glances. Wrapped in muslin rebosos, they sit in theirbuggy adorned with flowers, pure and innocent, unconscious of theirown beauty. Anaheim looked upon them, devoured them with its eyes, wasproud of them, and loved them. Who then is this "Jenny, " that can winvictory over these? "Truly, " the _Saturday Review_ wrote, "when littleJenny had climbed to the top of the mast, resting on the powerfulshoulders of Orso, and from this eminence, suspended above the earth, in danger of death, she outstretched her arms and poised like abutterfly, the circus became silent and all eyes and hearts followedwith trembling the movements of this wonderful child. That he who sawher on the mast or on a horse, " concluded the _Saturday Review_, "willnever forget her, because the greatest painter in the world, even Mr. Harvey, of San Francisco, who decorated the Palace Hotel, could paintnothing equal to it. " The youths of Anaheim who were enamored by the Misses Bimpa wereskeptical of this, and affirmed that it was a "humbug, " but thisquestion will be settled in the evening. Meanwhile, the commotionaround the circus is increasing each moment. From among the long, lowwooden buildings surrounding the canvas circus there comes the roar ofthe lions and elephant; the parrots, fastened to rings hanging to thehuts, fill the air with their cries and whistles; the monkeys swingsuspended by their tails or mock the public, who are kept at adistance by a rope fence. At last, from the main inclosure theprocession emerges for the purpose of whetting and astonishing thecuriosity of the public to a greater extent. The procession is headedby a gaudy band-wagon, drawn by six prancing horses with fine harness, and feathers on their heads. The riders on the saddles are in thecostume of French postilions. On the other wagons come cages of lions, and in every cage is seated a lady with an olive branch in her hand. Then follows an elephant, covered with a carpet, and a tower on itsback, which contains several men arrayed as East Indian hunters. Theband is playing, the drums are beating, the lions are roaring, thewhips are cracking; in a word, this cavalcade moves forward with greatnoise and uproar. But this is not all: behind the elephant therefollows a machine on wheels, with a locomotive pipe, somewhatresembling an organ, which, blown by steam, emits the most discordantyells and whistles intended for the national "Yankee Doodle. " TheAmericans cry "Hurrah!" the Germans, "Hoch!" the Mexicans, "E viva!"and the Cahuillas howl for joy. The crowds follow the procession, the place around the circus becomesdeserted, the parrots cease their chatter, and the monkeys theirgymnastics. But "the greatest attractions" do not take part in theprocession. The "incomparable artist of the whip, " the manager, the"unconquerable Orso, " and the "Aërial Angel, Jenny, " are all absent. All this is preserved for the evening so as to attract the crowds. The manager is somewhere in one of the wooden buildings, or looks intothe ticket seller's van, where he pretends to be angry. Orso and Jennyare in the ring practicing some of their feats. Under its canvas roofreigns dust and silence. In the distance, where the seats arearranged, it is totally dark; the greatest part of the light fallsthrough the roof on the ring, with its sand and sawdust covering. Withthe help of the gray light which filters through the canvas can beseen a horse standing near the parapet. The big horse feels verylonely, whisks the flies with his tail, and often sways his head. Gradually the eye, becoming accustomed to the dim light, discernsother objects--for instance: the mast upon which Orso carries Jenny, the hoops pasted with paper for her to jump through. All these lie onthe ground without order, and the half-lighted arena and nearly darkbenches give an impression of a deserted building with battenedwindows. The terrace of seats, only here and there broken with a strayglimmer of light, look like ruins. The horse, standing with droopinghead, does not enliven the picture. Where are Orso and Jenny? One of the rays of light that stream throughan aperture of the canvas, in which floats the golden dust, falls on arow of distant seats. This body of light, undulating with the swayingcanvas, at last falls upon a group composed of Orso and Jenny. Orso sits on top of the bench, and near to him is Jenny. Her beautifulchildish face leans against the arm of the athlete and her hand restson his neck. The eyes of the girl are lifted upward, as if listeningintently to the words of her companion, who bends over her, moving hishead at times, apparently explaining something. Leaning as they are against each other, you might take them for a pairof lovers, but for the fact that the girl's uplifted eyes expressstrong attention and intense thought, rather than any romanticfeeling, and that her legs, which are covered with pink fleshings, andher feet in slippers, sway to and fro with a childish abandon. Herfigure has just begun to blossom into maidenhood. In everything Jennyis still a child, but so charming and beautiful that, withoutreflecting upon the ability of Mr. Harvey, who decorated the PalaceHotel, of San Francisco, it would be difficult even for him to imagineanything to equal her. Her delicate face is simply angelic; her large, sad blue eyes have a deep, sweet and confiding expression; her darkeyebrows are penciled with unequaled purity on her forehead, white andreposeful as if in deep thought, and the bright, silky hair, somewhattossed, throws a shadow on it, of which, not only Master Harvey, but acertain other painter, named Rembrandt, would not have been ashamed. The girl at once reminds you of Cinderella and Gretchen, and theleaning posture which she now maintains suggests timidity and the needof protection. Her posture, which strongly reminds you of those of Greuz, contrastsstrangely with her circus attire, composed of a short, white muslinskirt, embroidered with small silver stars, and pink tights. Sittingin a golden beam of light with the dark, deep background, she lookslike some sunny and transparent vision, and her slender form contrastswith the square and sturdy figure of the youth. Orso, who is dressed in pink tights, appears from afar as if he werenaked, and the same ray of light distinctly reveals his immenseshoulders, rounded chest, small waist, and legs too short inproportion to the trunk. His powerful form seems as if it were hewn out with an ax. He has allthe features of a circus athlete, but so magnified that they make himnoticeable; besides, his face is not handsome. Sometimes, when heraises his head, you can see his face, the lines of which are regular, perhaps too regular, and somewhat rigid, as if carved from marble. Thelow forehead, with the hair falling on it, like the mane of a horse, straight and black, inherited from his squaw mother, gives to his facea gloomy and threatening expression. He has a similarity to both thebull and the bear, and he personifies a terrible and somewhat evilforce. He is not of a good disposition. When Jenny passes by the horses, those gentle creatures turn theirheads and look at her with intelligent eyes, and neigh and whinny, asif wishing to say: "How do you do, darling?" while at the sight ofOrso they shudder with fear. He is a reticent and gloomy youth. Mr. Hirsch's negroes, who are his hostlers, clowns, minstrels, andrope-walkers, do not like Orso and tease him as much as they dare, andbecause he is half-Indian they think nothing of him, and plague andmock him. Truly, the manager, who offers the hundred dollars to anyone who can defeat him, does not risk much; he dislikes and fears him, as the tamer of the wild animals fears a lion, and whips him on theslightest provocation. Mr. Hirsch feels that, if he does not keep the youth in subjection byconstantly beating him, he will be beaten himself, and he follows theprinciple of the Creole woman, who considered beating a punishment, and no beating a reward. Such was Orso. Recently he began to be less sullen, because littleJenny had a good influence over him. It happened about a year ago thatwhen Orso, who was then the attendant of the wild animals, wascleaning the cage of the puma, the beast put its paws through the barsof the cage and wounded his head severely. Then he entered the cage, and after a terrible fight between them, he alone remained alive. Buthe was so badly hurt that he fainted from loss of blood. He was ill along time, which was greatly aggravated by a severe whipping which themanager gave him for breaking the spine of the puma. When he was ill Jenny took great care of him, and dressed his wounds, and when she had leisure, read the Bible to him. That is a "good book"which speaks of love, of forgiveness, of mercy--in a word, of thingsthat are never mentioned in Mr. Hirsch's circus. Orso, listening tothis book, pondered long in his Indian head and at last came to theconclusion that if it would be as good in the circus as in this book, perhaps he would not be so bad. He thought also that then he would notbe beaten so often, and some one would be found who would love him. But who? Not negroes and not Mr. Hirsch; little Jenny, whose voicesounded as sweetly in his ears as the voice of the mavis, might be theone. One evening, under the influence of this thought, he began to weep andkiss the small hands of Jenny, and from this time on he loved her verymuch. During the performance in the evening, when Jenny was riding ahorse, he was always in the ring and carefully watching over her toprevent any accident. When he held the paper hoops for her to jumpthrough he smiled on her; when to the sound of the music be balancedher on the top of the high mast, and the audience was hushed withfright, he felt uneasy himself. He knew very well if she should fallthat no one from the "good book" would be left in the circus; he neverremoved his eyes from her, and the evident caution and anxietyexpressed in his movements added to the terror of the people. Then, when recalled into the ring by the storm of applause, they would runin together, he would push her forward, as if deserving of all thepraise, and murmur from joy. This reticent youth spoke only to Jenny, and to her alone he opened his mind. He hated the circus and Mr. Hirsch, who was entirely different from the people in the "good book. "Something always attracted him to the edge of the horizon, to thewoods and plains. When the circus troupe in their constant wanderingschanced to pass through wild, lonely spots, he heard voices awakeningthe instincts of a captive wolf, who sees the woods and plains for thefirst time. This propensity he inherited not only from his mother, butalso from his father, who had been a frontiersman. He shared all hishopes with Jenny, and often narrated to her how fully and untrammeledlive the people of the plains. Most of this he guessed or gleaned fromthe hunters of the prairies, who came to the circus with wild animalswhich they had captured for the menagerie, or to try their prowess forthe hundred-dollar prize. Little Jenny listened to these Indian visions, opening widely her blueeyes and falling into deep reveries. For Orso never spoke of goingalone to the desert; she was always with him, and it was very good forthem there. Every day they saw something new; they possessed all theyneeded, and it seemed right to make all their plans carefully. So now they sit in this beam of light, talking to each other, insteadof practicing and attempting new feats. The horse stands in the ringand feels lonely. Jenny leans on Orso's arm, thoughtfullycontemplating and looking with wistful, wondering eyes into the dimspace, swinging her feet like a child and musing--how it will be onthe plains, and asking questions from Orso. "How do they live there?" says she, raising her eyes to the face ofher friend. "There is plenty of oaks. They take an ax and build a house. " "Well, " says Jenny, "but until the house is built?" "It is always warm there. The 'Grizzly Killer' says it is very warm. " Jenny begins to swing her feet more lively, as if the warmth there hassettled the question in her mind; but shortly she remembers that shehas in the circus a dog and a cat, and that she would like to takethem with her. She calls her dog Mister Dog and her cat Mister Cat. "And will Mr. Dog and Mr. Cat go with us?" "They will, " answers Orso, looking pleased. "Will we take with us the 'good book'?" "We will, " says Orso, still more pleased. "Well, " says the girl in her innocence, "Mr. Cat will catch birds forus; Mr. Dog will drive away bad people with his bark; you will be myhusband and I will be your wife, and they will be our children. " Orso feels so happy that he cannot speak, and Jenny continues: "There, there will be no Mr. Hirsch, no circus, we will not work, andbasta! But no!" she adds a moment later, "the 'good book' says that weshould work, and I sometimes will jump through one--through the twohoops, the three, the four hoops. " Jenny evidently does not imagine work under any other form thanjumping through hoops. Shortly she says again: "Orso, will I indeed be always with you?" "Yes, Jen, for I love you very much. " His face brightens as he says so, and becomes almost beautiful. And yet he does not know himself how dear to him has become this smallbright head. He has nothing else in this world but her, and he watches her as thefaithful dog guards his mistress. By her fragile side he looks likeHercules, but he is unconscious of this. "Jen, " says he after a moment, "listen to what I tell you. " Jenny, who shortly before had got up to look at the horse, now turnsand, kneeling down before Orso, puts her two elbows on his knees, crosses her arms and, resting her chin on her wrists, uplifts her faceand is all attention. At this moment, to the consternation of the children, the "artist ofthe whip" enters the ring in a very bad humor, because his trial witha lion had entirely failed. This lion, who was bald from old age, desired only to be let alone, had no inclination to attack the "artist, " and hid himself from thelash of the whip in a far corner of the cage. The manager thought withdespair that if this loyal disposition remained with the lion untilthe evening the contest with the whip would be a failure; for to fighta lion who slinks away needs no more art than to eat a lobster fromhis tail. The bad temper of the proprietor became still worse when helearned from the ticket seller that he was disposing of no seats inthe "gods;" that the Cahuillas evidently had spent all their moneythat they had earned in the vineyards for drinks, and that they cameto his window and offered their blankets, marked "U. S. , " or theirwives, especially the old ones, in exchange for tickets of admission. The lack of money among the Cahuillas was no small loss for the"artist of the whip;" for he counted on a "crowded house, " and if theseats in the "gods" were not sold no "crowded house" was obtainable;therefore the manager wished at this moment that all the Indians hadbut one back, and that he might give an exhibition of his skill withthe whip on that one back, in the presence of all Anaheim. Thus hefelt as he entered the ring, and seeing the horse standing idle underthe parapet, he felt like jumping with anger. Where are Orso andJenny? Shading his eyes with his hand he looked all around the circus, and observed in a bright beam, Orso, and Jenny kneeling before himwith her elbows resting on his knees. At this sight he let the lash ofhis whip trail on the ground. "Orso!" If lightning had struck in the midst of the children they could nothave been more startled. Orso jumped to his feet and descended in thepassageway between the benches with the hasty movement of an animalwho comes to his master at his call; behind him followed Jenny witheyes wide open from fright, and clutching the benches as she passedthem. Orso, on entering the ring, stopped by the parapet, gloomy and silent, the gray light from above bringing into relief his Herculean trunkupon its short legs. "Nearer, " cried out the manager in a hoarse voice; meanwhile the lashof his long whip moved upon the sand with a threatening motion, likethe tail of a tiger watching his approaching prey. Orso advanced several steps, and for a few minutes they looked intoeach other's eyes. The manager's face resembled that of the tamer whoenters the cage, intending to subdue a dangerous animal, and at thesame time watches it. His rage overcame his caution. His legs, incased in elk ridingbreeches and high boots, pranced under him with anger. Perhaps it wasnot the idleness alone of the children which increased his rage. Jenny, from above, looked at both of them like a frightened harewatching two lynxes. "Hoodlum! dog catcher, thou cur!" hissed the manager. The whip with the velocity of lightning whistled through the air in acircle, hissed and struck. Orso winced and howled a little, andstepped toward the manager, but the second stroke stopped him at once, then the third, fourth--tenth. The contest had begun, although therewas no audience. The uplifted hand of the "great artist" scarcelymoved, but his wrist revolved, as if a part of some machinery, and, with each revolution, the sharp point of the lash stung the skin ofOrso. It seemed as if the whip, or rather its poisonous fang, filledthe whole space between the athlete and the manager, who in hisincreasing excitement reached the genuine enthusiasm of the artist. The "master" simply improvised. The cracking end flashing in the airtwice had written down its bloody trace on the bare neck of theathlete. Orso was silent in this dance. At every cut he stepped onestep forward and the manager one step backward. In this way theycircled the arena, and at last the manager backed out of the ring as aconqueror from the cage, and disappeared through the entrance to thestables, still as the conqueror. As he left his eye fell on Jenny. "Get on your horse, " he cried; "I will settle with you later. " His voice had scarcely ceased before her white skirt flashed in theair, and in a moment she was on the back of the horse. The manager haddisappeared, and the horse began to gallop around the ring, occasionally striking the side with its hoofs. "Hep! Hep!" agitatedly said Jenny to the horse with her childishvoice: "Hep! hep!" but this "hep, hep, " was at the same time a sob. The horse increased his speed, clattering with his hoofs as he leanedmore and more to the center. The girl, standing on the pad with herfeet close together, seemed scarcely to touch it with the ends of hertoes; her bare rosy arms rose and fell as she maintained her balance;her hair and light muslin dress floated behind her supple figure, which looked like a bird circling in the air. "Hep! hep!" she kept exclaiming. Meanwhile her eyes were filled withtears, and to see she had to raise her head; the movement of the horsemade her dizzy; the terrace of seats and the ring seemed to revolvearound her; she wavered once, twice, and then fell down into the armsof Orso. "Oh! Orso, poor Orso!" cried the child. "What's the matter, Jen? why do you cry? I don't feel the pain, Idon't feel it. " Jenny threw both her arms around his neck and began to kiss hischeeks. Her whole body trembled, and she sobbed convulsively. "Orso, oh, Orso, " she sobbed, for she could not speak, and her armsclung closer to his neck. She could not have cried more if she hadbeen beaten herself. So, in the end, he began to pet and console her. Forgetting his own pain he took her in his arms and pressed her to hisheart, and his nerves being excited by the beating, he now felt forthe first time that he loved her more than the dog loved his mistress. He breathed heavily, and his lips panted out the words: "I feel no pain. When you are with me, I am happy, Jenny, Jenny!" When this was transpiring the manager was walking in the stables, foaming with rage. His heart was filled with jealousy. He saw the girlon her knees before Orso; recently this beautiful child had awakenedthe lower instincts in him, but as yet undeveloped, and now he fanciedthat she and Orso loved each other, and he felt revengeful, and had awild desire to punish her--to whip her soundly. This desire he couldnot resist. Shortly he called to her. She at once left Orso, and in a moment had disappeared in the darkentrance to the stables. Orso stood stupefied, and instead offollowing her he walked with unsteady steps to a bench, and, seatinghimself, began to breathe heavily. When the girl entered the stables she could see nothing, as it wasmuch darker there than in the ring. Yet, fearing that she would besuspected of having delayed her coming, she cried out in a faintvoice: "I am here, master, I am here. " At the same moment the hand of the manager caught hers, and hehoarsely said: "Come!" If he had shown anger or badly scolded her she would have felt lessfrightened than at this silence with which he led her to the circuswardrobe. She hung back, resisting him, and repeating quickly: "Oh, dear Mr. Hirsch, forgive me! forgive me!" But forcibly he dragged her to the long room where they stored theircostumes, and turned the key in the door. Jenny fell down on her knees. With uplifted eyes and folded hands, trembling as a leaf, the tears streaming down her cheeks, she tried toarouse his mercy; in answer to her supplications, he took from thewall a wire whip, and said: "Lie down. " With despair she flung herself at his feet, nearly dying from fright. Every nerve of her body quivered; but vainly she pressed her pallidlips to his polished boots. Her alarm and pleading seemed to arousethe demon in him more than ever. Grasping her roughly, he threw herviolently on a heap of dresses, and in an instant, after trying tostop the kicking of her feet, he began beating her cruelly. "Orso! Orso!" she shouted. About this moment the door shook on its hinges, rattled, creaked andgave way, and half of it, pushed in with a tremendous force, fell witha crash upon the ground. In this opening stood Orso. The wire whip fell from the hand of the manager, and his face becamedeadly pale, because Orso looked ferocious. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips covered with foam, his head inclined to one side like abull's, and his whole body was crouched and gathered, as if ready tospring. "Get out!" cried the manager, trying to hide his fear behind a show ofauthority. The pent-up dam was already broken. Orso, who was usually as obedientto every motion as a dog, this time did not move, but leaning his headstill more to one side, he moved slowly and threateningly toward the"artist of the whip, " his iron muscles taut as whipcords. "Help! help!" cried the manager. They heard him. Four brawny negroes from the stables ran in through the broken doorand fell upon Orso. A terrible fight ensued, upon which the managerlooked with chattering teeth. For a long time you could see nothingbut a tangled mass of dark bodies wrestling with convulsive movements, rolling on the ground in a writhing heap; in the silence whichfollowed sometimes was heard a groan, a snort, loud short breathing, the gritting of teeth. In a moment one of the negroes, as if by a superhuman force, was sentfrom this formless mass, whirling headlong through the air, and fellat the feet of the manager, striking his skull with great force on theground; soon a second flew out; then from the center of this turbulentgroup Orso's body alone arose, covered with blood and looking moreterrible than before. His knees were still pressing heavily on thebreasts of the two fainting negroes. He arose to his feet and movedtoward the manager. Hirsch closed his eyes. The next moment he felt that his feet had left the ground, that he wasflying through the air--then he felt nothing; his whole body wasdashed with monstrous force into the remaining half of the door, andhe fell to the earth unconscious. Orso wiped his face, and, coming over to Jenny, said: "Let us go. " He took her by the hand and they went. The whole town was following the circus procession and the steamcalliope, playing "Yankee Doodle, " and the place around the circus wasdeserted. The parrots only, swinging in their hoops, filled the airwith their cries. Hand in hand, Orso and Jenny went forward; from theend of the street could be seen the immense plains, covered withcacti. Silently they passed by the houses, shaded by the eucalyptustrees; then they passed the slaughter-houses, around which hadgathered thousands of small black birds with red-tipped wings. Theyjumped over the large irrigation ditches, entered into an orangegrove, and on emerging from it found themselves among the cacti. This was the desert. As far as the eye could reach these prickly plants rose higher andhigher; thick leaves growing from other leaves obstructed the path, sometimes catching on Jenny's dress. In places they grew to such agreat height that the children seemed to be as much lost here as ifthey were in the woods, and no one could find them there. So they keptthreading their way through them, now to the right and then to theleft, but careful always to go from the town. Sometimes between thecacti they could see on the horizon the blue mountains of Santa Ana. They went to the mountains. The heat was great. Gray-colored locustschirped in the cacti; the sun's rays poured down upon the earth instreams; the dried-up earth was covered with a network of cracks; thestiff leaves of the cacti seemed to soften from the heat, and theflowers were languid and half-wilted. The children proceeded, silentand thoughtful. But all that surrounded them was so new that theysurrendered themselves to their impressions, and for the moment forgoteven their weariness. Jenny's eyes ran from one bunch of cacti toanother; again she looked to the farther clusters, saying to herfriend: "Is this the wilderness, Orso?" But the desert did not appear to be deserted. From the farther clumpscame the calling of the male quail, and around sounded the differentmurmurs of clucking, of twittering, of the ruffling of feathers: in aword, the divers voices of the small inhabitants of the plains. Sometimes there flew up a whole covey of quail; the gaudy-toppedpheasants scattered on their approach; the black squirrels dived intotheir holes; the rabbits disappeared in all directions; the gopherswere sitting on their hind legs beside their holes, looking like fatGerman farmers standing in their doorway. After resting an hour the children proceeded on their journey. Jennysoon felt thirsty. Orso, in whom had awakened his Indian inventivefaculties, began to pluck cactus fruits. They were in abundance, andgrew together with the flowers on the same leaves. In plucking themthey pricked their fingers with the sharp points, but the fruit wasluscious. Their sweet and acid flavor quenched at once their thirstand appeased their hunger. The prairies fed the children as a mother;thus strengthened they could proceed further. The cacti arose higher, and you could say that they grew on the head of one another. Theground on which they walked ascended gradually and continuously. Looking backward once more they saw Anaheim, dissolving in thedistance and looking like a grove of trees upon the low plains. Not atrace of the circus could be distinguished. They still pressedsteadily onward to the mountains, which now became more distinct inthe distance. The surroundings assumed another phase. Between thecacti appeared different bushes and even trees; the wooded portion ofthe foothills of Santa Ana had commenced. Orso broke one of thesaplings, and, clearing off its branches, made a cudgel of it, which, in his hands, would prove a terrible weapon. His Indian instinctswhispered to him that in the mountains it was better to be provided, even with a stick, than to go unarmed, especially now that the sun hadlowered itself into the west. Its great fiery shield had rolled downfar beyond Anaheim, into the blue ocean. After a while it disappeared, and in the west there gleamed red, golden, and orange lights, similarto ribbons and gauzy veils, stretched over the whole sky. Themountains uplifted themselves in this glow; the cacti assumeddifferent fantastical shapes, resembling people and animals. Jennyfelt tired and sleepy, but they still hastened to the mountains, although they knew not why. Soon they saw rocks, and on reaching themthey discovered a stream; they drank some water and continued alongits course. The rocks, which were at first broken and scattered, thenchanged into a solid wall, which became higher and higher, and soonthey entered into a caņon. The rosy lights died away; deeper and deeper dusk enveloped the earth. In places immense vines reached from one side of the caņon to theother, covering it like a roof, and making it dark and uncanny. On themountain side, above them, could be heard the voices of the swayingand creaking forest trees. Orso implied that now they were in thedepths of the wilderness, where certainly there were many wildanimals. From time to time his ear detected suspicious sounds, andwhen night fell he distinctly heard the hoarse mewing of the lynxes, the roar of the pumas, and the melancholy howling of the coyotes. "Are you afraid, Jen?" asked Orso. "No, " replied the girl. But she was already very tired, and could proceed no farther, so Orsotook her in his arms and carried her. He went forward with the hopethat he would reach the house of some squatter, or should meet someMexican campers. Once or twice it seemed to him that he saw the gleamof some wild animal's eyes. Then with one hand he pressed Jenny, whohad now fallen asleep, to his breast, and with the other he graspedhis stick. He was very tired himself; notwithstanding his greatstrength Jenny began to prove heavy to him, especially as he carriedher on his left arm; the right one he wished to have free for defense. Occasionally he stopped to regain his breath and then continued on. Suddenly he paused and listened intently. It seemed to him as if heheard the echoes of the small bells which the settlers tie for thenight to the neck of their cows and goats. Rushing forward, he soonreached a bend in the stream. The sound of the bells became moredistinct, and joined with them in the distance was heard the barkingof a dog. Then Orso was sure that he was nearing some settlement. Itwas high time that he did, for he was exhausted by the events of theday, and his strength had begun to fail him. On turning another bendhe saw a light; as he moved forward his quick eyes discerned acampfire, a dog, evidently tied to a stump, tearing and barking, andat last the figure of a man seated by the fire. "God send that this may be a man from the 'good book'!" thought he. Then he resolved to awaken Jenny. "Jen!" called he, "awake, we shall eat. " "What is it?" asked the girl; "where are we?" "In the wilderness. " She was now wide awake. "What light is that?" "A man lives there; we shall eat. " Poor Orso was very hungry. Meanwhile they were nearing the fire. The dog barked more violently, and the old man, sitting by the fire, shaded his eyes and peered intothe gloom. Shortly he said: "Who is there?" "It is us, " answered Jenny in her delicate voice, "and we are veryhungry. " "Come nearer, " said the old man. Emerging from behind a great rock, which had partly concealed them, they both stood in the light of the fire, holding each other's hands. The old man looked at them with astonishment, and involuntarilyexclaimed: "What is that?" For he saw a sight which, in the sparsely populated mountains of SantaAna, would astonish any one. Orso and Jenny were dressed in theircircus attire. The beautiful girl, clothed in pink tights and shortwhite skirt, appearing so suddenly before him, looked in the firelightlike some fairy sylph. Behind her stood the youth with his powerfulfigure, covered also with pink fleshings, through which you could seehis muscles standing out like knots on the oak. The old squatter gazed at them with wide-open eyes. "Who are you?" he inquired. The girl, relying more on her own eloquence than on that of Orso, began to speak. "We are from the circus, kind sir! Mr. Hirsch beat Orso very much andthen wanted to beat me, but Orso did not let him, and fought Mr. Hirsch and four negroes, and then we ran off on the plains, and went along distance through the cacti, and Orso carried me; then we camehere and are very hungry. " The face of the old man softened and brightened as he listened to herstory, and he looked with a fatherly interest on this charming child, who spoke with great haste, as if she wished to tell all in onebreath. "What is your name, little one?" he asked. "Jenny. " "Welcome, Jenny! and you, Orso! people rarely come here. Come to me, Jenny. " Without hesitation the little girl put her arms around the neck of theold man and kissed him warmly. He appeared to her to be some one fromthe "good book. " "Will Mr. Hirsch find us here?" she said, as she took her lips fromhis face. "If he comes he will find a bullet here, " replied the old man; thenadded, "you said that you wanted to eat?" "Oh, yes, very much. " The squatter, raking in the ashes of the fire, took out a fine leg ofvenison, the pleasant odor of which filled the air. Then they sat downto eat. The night was gorgeous; the moon came out high in the heavens abovethe caņon; in the thicket the mavis began to sing sweetly; the fireburned brightly, and Orso was so filled with joy that he chanted withgladness. Both he and the girl ate heartily. The old man had noappetite; he looked upon little Jenny, and, for some unknown cause, his eyes were filled with tears. Perhaps he had been once a father, or, perhaps, he so rarely sawpeople in these deserted mountains. * * * * * Since then these three lived together.