. In a note
dated from Heaven (a place called, by the vulgar, Taormina), there came,
at the end of the exclamation points, one or two rational sentences of
information. It seemed that, upon the completion of his "Sicilian
Fantasia," Ivan intended returning, by degrees, to the north, reaching
Florence about November 1st. But he did not forget to add that
it would be a voluntary plunge from the skies to purgatory.--For
well indeed was Sicily named the "Smile of God!" And as for
Russia--Moscow--Petersburg--well! popular mistake had incredibly
conceived the infernal regions hot instead of cold; for who on the
beautiful earth could ever be unhappy while the sun, visible presentment
of the Deity, moved unobstructed through the turquoise vault of
Italy?--Italy!--melody embodied: harmony made visible: Mozart
paraphrased: Kingdom into which all artists must seek entrance;
fairy-land come true!

Kashkine read his letter with relief, with resentment, finally, with
laughter. But Ivan's earnest invitation to him to spend the winter in
Florence could not be accepted. He had already been absent far too long.
Russia claimed him. And thus, when, at last, in the first days of the
melancholy month, Ivan arrived at the gray capital of Tuscany where he
was to make his temporary home, no friendly faces save those of his
servants were at hand to welcome him.

Probably no city in all the world possesses so powerful an attraction
for so many people of so many nations as does this grim stronghold of
Medici and Borgia. Its society, like that of most Italian cities, is
largely cosmopolitan. Its different "colonies" intermingle, however,
with the greatest friendliness; and among these "Prince" Gregoriev was
effusively received. It was less than a month before he was given to
understand that, though a fine dilettantism in any of the arts is a
charming fad, a professional career for a Prince with a fortune like his
was not to be seriously considered for one moment. To the surprise even
of Piotr, this attitude amused rather than angered Ivan; and, his
summer's work polished and sent away, he smiled in his sleeve and
urbanely donned his new garb, determined to play the part assigned him
till _ennui_ should tear away domino and mask.

By the time he arrived the "season" was already in a vigorous infancy.
Daily, in the late afternoon, the Cascine became an international melee
of magnificent equipages and Parisian toilettes. Then, the drive over,
thos