will have no more of
this sad music this night. I will sing the wild song of the Ukraine,
most beautiful of all our country, alas, ours no more--Like that
other, the music is my father's, but the poem is written by a son of
the Ukraine--Zaliski."

A melody clear and sweet dominated, mounting to a note of triumph.
Slender and tall she stood in the middle of the room. The firelight
played on the folds of her gown, bringing out its color in brilliant
flashes. She seemed to Harry, with her rich complexion and glowing
eyes, absorbed thus in her music, a type of human splendor, vigorous,
vivid, adorable. Mostly in Polish, but sometimes in English, she again
half sang, half chanted, now playing with the voice, and again
dropping to accompaniment only, while they listened, the mother in
the shadows, Larry gazing in the fire, and Harry upon her.

"Me also has my mother, the Ukraine,
Me her son
Cradled on her bosom,
The enchantress."

She ceased, and with a sigh dropped at her mother's feet and rested
her head on her mother's knee.

"Tell us now, mamma, a poem. It is time we finish now our fete with
one good, long poem from you."

"You will understand me?" Madam Manovska turned to Harry. "You do well
understand what once you have heard--" She always spoke slowly and
with difficulty when she undertook English, and now she continued
speaking rapidly to Amalia in her own tongue, and her daughter
explained.

"Mamma says she will tell you a poem composed by a great poet, French,
who is now, for patriotism to his country, in exile. His name is
Victor Hugo. You have surely heard of him? Yes. She says she will
repeat this which she have by head, and because that it is not
familiar to you she asks will I tell it in English--if you so
desire?"

Again Madam Manovska addressed her daughter, and Amalia said: "She
thinks this high mountain and the plain below, and that we are exile
from our own land, makes her think of this; only that the conscience
has never for her brought terror, like for Cain, but only to those who
have so long persecuted my father with imprisonment, and drive him so
far to terrible places. She thinks they must always, with never
stopping, see the 'Eye' that regards forever. This also must Victor
Hugo know well, since for his country he also is driven in exile--and
can see the terrible 'Eye' go to punish his enemies."

Then Madam Manovska bega