ovely face demands a canvas, and I only wish I could wield the
brush!"

And with a scrape, he thereupon invited the company to dinner.

"All except the fair sex," he whispered. "I don't want the actresses,
for I have a daughter."

Next day the actors dined at the police captain's. Only three turned
up, the manager Limonadov, the tragedian Fenogenov, and the comic
man Vodolazov; the others sent excuses. The dinner was a dull affair.
Limonadov kept telling the police captain how much he respected him, and
how highly he thought of all persons in authority; Vodolazov mimicked
drunken merchants and Armenians; and Fenogenov (on his passport his name
was Knish), a tall, stout Little Russian with black eyes and frowning
brow, declaimed "At the portals of the great," and "To be or not to
be." Limonadov, with tears in his eyes, described his interview with the
former Governor, General Kanyutchin. The police captain listened, was
bored, and smiled affably. He was well satisfied, although Limonadov
smelt strongly of burnt feathers, and Fenogenov was wearing a hired
dress coat and boots trodden down at heel. They pleased his daughter and
made her lively, and that was enough for him. And Masha never took her
eyes off the actors. She had never before seen such clever, exceptional
people!

In the evening the police captain and Masha were at the theatre again.
A week later the actors dined at the police captain's again, and after
that came almost every day either to dinner or supper. Masha became more
and more devoted to the theatre, and went there every evening.

She fell in love with the tragedian. One fine morning, when the police
captain had gone to meet the bishop, Masha ran away with Limonadov's
company and married her hero on the way. After celebrating the wedding,
the actors composed a long and touching letter and sent it to the police
captain.

It was the work of their combined efforts.

"Bring out the motive, the motive!" Limonadov kept saying as he dictated
to the comic man. "Lay on the respect.... These official chaps like
it. Add something of a sort... to draw a tear."

The answer to this letter was most discomforting. The police captain
disowned his daughter for marrying, as he said, "a stupid, idle Little
Russian with no fixed home or occupation."

And the day after this answer was received M asha was writing to her
father.

"Papa, he beats me! Forgive us!"

He had beaten her, beaten her behind the scenes, i