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“Atthismomentfoldingdoorswerethrownopen，andsupperwasannounced。Iofferedmyarm，sheroseandtookitinsilence。
Thissilenceshemaintainedduringthefirstpartofthemeal，despiteherhusband’sbrilliantconversationandalmostuproariousspirits。Butbyandbyabrightcolormountedtohercheeksandlustertohereyes。IsupposeyouwillthinkmehorriblyunpoeticalifIaddthatshedrankseveralglassesofchampagneoneaftertheother，afactwhichperhapsmayaccountforthechange。
“Atanyrateshespokeandlaughedandlookedlovely，andIdidnotwonderthatthebaroncouldhardlykeephiseyesoffher。Butwhetheritwasherwifelyanxietyornot——itwasevidenthermindwasnotateasethroughitall，andIfanciedthatherbrightnesswasfeverish，hermerrimentslightlyhysterical。
“Aftersupper——anexquisiteoneitwas——weadjournedtogether，inforeignfashion，tothedrawing-room；thebaronthrewhimselfintoachairand，somewhatwiththeairofapasha，demandedmusic。Hewasflushed；theveinsofhisforeheadwereswollenandstoodoutlikecords；thewinedrunkattablewaspotent:eventhroughmyphlegmaticframeitranhotly。
“Shehesitatedamomentortwo，thendocilelysatdowntothepiano。ThatshecouldsingIhavealreadymadeclear:howshecouldsing，withwhatpathos，passion，aswellasperfectart，I
hadneverrealizedbefore。
“Whenthesongwasendedsheremainedforawhile，witheyeslostindistance，verystill，saveforherquickbreathing。Itwasclearshewasmovedbythemusic；indeedshemusthavethrownherwholesoulintoit。
“Atfirstwe，theaudience，paidhertherarecomplimentofsilence。Thenthebaronbrokeforthintoloudapplause。’Brava，brava！thatwasreallysaidconamore。Adeliciouslovesong，delicious——butFrench！YoumustsingoneofourSlavmelodiesforMarshfieldbeforeyouallowustogoandsmoke。’
“Shestartedfromherreveriewithaflush，andafterapausestruckslowlyafewsimplechords，thenbeganoneofthosestrangelysweet，yetintenselypatheticRussianairs，whichgiveoneacuriousrevelationoftheprofound，endlessmelancholylurkinginthenationalmind。
“’Whatdoyouthinkofit？’askedthebaronofmewhenitceased。
“’WhatIhavealwaysthoughtofsuchmusic——itisthatofahopelesspeople；poetical，crushed，andresigned。’
“Hegavealoudlaugh。’Heartheanalyst，thepsychologue——why，man，itisalovesong！Isitpossiblethatwe，uncivilized，aretruerrealiststhanourhyperculturedWesternneighbors？Havewegonetotherootofthematter，inoursimpleway？’
“Thebaronessgotupabruptly。Shelookedwhiteandspent；therewerebistercirclesroundhereyes。
“’Iamtired，’shesaid，withdrylips。’Youwillexcuseme，Mr。
Marshfield，Imustreallygotobed。’
“’Gotobed，gotobed，’criedherhusbandgayly。Then，quotinginRussianfromthesongshehadjustsung:’Sleep，mylittlesoftwhitedove:mylittleinnocenttenderlamb！’Shehurriedfromtheroom。Thebaronlaughedagain，and，takingmefamiliarlybythearm，ledmetohisownsetofapartmentsforthepromisedsmoke。
Heensconcedmeinanarmchair，placedcigarsofeverydescriptionandaTurkishpipereadytomyhand，andalittletableonwhichstoodcut-glassflasksandbeakersintemptingarray。
“AfterIhadselectedmycigarwithsomeprecautions，Iglancedathimoveracarelessremark，andwasstartledtoseeasuddenalterationinhiswholelookandattitude。
“’Youwillforgiveme，Marshfield，’hesaid，ashecaughtmyeye，speakingwithspasmodicpoliteness。’ItismorethanprobablethatIshallhavetosetoutuponthischaseIspokeofto-night，andI
mustnowgoandchangemyclothes，thatImaybereadytostartatanymoment。Thisisthehourwhenitismostlikelythesehellbeastsaretobegotat。Youhaveallyouwant，Ihope，’
interruptinganoutbreakofferocitybyaneffortafterhisformercourtesy。
“Itwascurioustowatchthemanoftheworldstrugglingwiththeprimitiveman。
“’But，baron，’saidI，’Idonotatallseethefunofstickingathomelikethis。Youknowmypassionforwitnessingeverythingnew，strange，andoutlandish。Youwillsurelynotrefusemesuchanopportunityforobservationasamidnightwolfraid。Iwilldomybestnottobeinthewayifyouwilltakemewithyou。’
“Atfirstitseemedasifhehadsomedifficultyinrealizingthedriftofmywords，hewassoengrossedbysomeinnerthought。ButasIrepeatedthem，hegaveven
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