ended everywhere
by now--he sat down alone to the cheerless meal which, poor though it
was, but for Rubinstein he would not have had at all.

It was nine o'clock that night before the revellers, weary with overmuch
cheer, returned. But the extra twinkle in Rubinstein's gay eyes, and the
joyous grin on the flushed face of Laroche, disappeared when, lighting a
candle to guide them through the darkened antechamber, they entered the
living-room to find Ivan supine on the divan, sunk into a heavy slumber,
the mottled white and red of his stained cheeks betraying a secret never
afterwards referred to by his kindly discoverers. For Ivan's persistent
faith had come to naught. Michael Gregoriev still denied his son.

The following week of holiday was long enough, and Ivan passed his days
in complete, brooding idleness. But when, at last, on the noon of
January 3, 1867, he returned to his classes at the Conservatoire, the
young professor set to work with the air of one determined to kill
every thought, every memory, of everything save the task of the hour;
nor, henceforth, to give place to the slightest suggestion of regret or
expectancy.

His fury of work lasted long. Day by day Nicholas Rubinstein watched for
some sign of abatement: some lessening of the hours of labor: some
little indulgence in the way of ordinary recreation. In vain. Ivan took
barely time enough to satisfy his hunger: slept six or seven hours a
night; and was at the piano alike when his companions appeared in the
morning, and when they bade him good-night in the late evening. Not only
did his hours for his own work increase, but he voluntarily added to his
work at the Conservatoire, where he now remained from one until six,
instead of till half-past four, as stipulated in his contract. And well
did Nicholas understand that this was not done for extra money. Indeed
Ivan had at first begged to relieve his chief of some of his younger
pupils without remuneration of any kind: a suggestion which Nicholas was
far too generous to permit. Instead, he remonstrated, earnestly, at
Ivan's taking upon himself this extra amount of work; for, while
teaching was his own forte, Ivan's nature, as he well knew, was capable
of higher things. But by March such discussions had long since been
dropped: and Rubinstein's whole anxiety now was to note in the youth the
first signs of inevitable breakdown, that his illness might be taken in
time.

Only Ivan himself, of all their li