until they made the journey--then the time for
receiving had gone by also--in general I think that they have not had a
chance to dissect her yet ... I'd like, if it's only possible, that she
should not be touched. To-day is Sunday; perhaps they'll postpone it
until to-morrow, and in the meanwhile something may be done for her..."

"I can't tell you, dear ... Wait! ... Haven't I some friend among the
professors, in the medical world? ... I will look later in my
memo-books. Perhaps we will succeed in doing something."

"Besides that," continued Tamara, "I want to bury her ... At my expense
... I was attached to her with all my heart during her life."

"I will help you with pleasure in this, materially..."

"No, no! ... A thousand thanks! ... I'll do everything myself. I would
not hesitate to have recourse to your kind heart, but this ... --you
will understand me-- ... this is something in the nature of a vow, that
a person gives to one's self and to the memory of a friend. The main
difficulty is in how we may manage to bury her with Christian rites.
She was, it seems, an unbeliever, or believed altogether poorly. And
it's only by chance that I, also, will cross my forehead. But I don't
want them to bury her just like a dog, somewhere beyond the enclosure
of the cemetery; in silence, without words, without singing ... I don't
know, will they permit burying her properly--with choristers, with
priests? For that reason I'm asking you to assist me with your advice.
Or, perhaps, you will direct me somewhere? ..."

Now the artiste had little by little become interested and was already
beginning to forget about her fatigue, and migraine, and the
consumptive heroine dying in the fourth act. She was already picturing
the role of an intercessor, the beautiful figure of genius merciful to
a fallen woman. This was original, extravagant, and at the same time so
theatrically touching! Rovinskaya, like many of her confreres, did not
let one day pass by--and, if it were possible, she would not have let
pass even one hour--without standing out from the crowd, without
compelling people to talk about her: to-day she would participate in a
pseudo-patriotic manifestation, while to-morrow she would read from a
platform, for the benefit of revolutionaries exiled to Siberia,
inciting verses, full of fire and vengeance. She loved to sell flowers
at carnivals, in riding academies; and to sell champagne at large
balls. She would think up her li