ed--_Dolce_--the
running waters of Russia in the summer, a clear sky--then the coming of
fall with the brown leaves--a gradual decline into winter.--A
storm--oh--how she had loved storms--in bygone days--then. And again
still weather--the dance of gypsies at a fair--very low--a sound--a
murmur--

She scarcely heard the orchestra leader's shrill whistle, his
calls of Back to letter B--or letter F--or Strings softer there

IT was Russia--wistful--half-fulfilled thoughts.

LONGING she had never known before took possession of her soul.

GLOOM--and yet the very depth of a Russian's heart, pouring itself out
in the mystic symphony.

THEN--a lighter mood--again the green woods and water--oh for the happy
song of the boatman on the Volga.

HIGHER and higher rose the trepidation. She was tense--what was it--what
was breaking loose within her--Higher and higher rose the waves of the
music--

SILENCE--again the strings--balm--the call of the woods--the odor of
pines.

THUNDER--rolling thunder--
--and peace--

BLUEBELLS on the grass.

To onlookers she was but a young musician--a little pale--with
strange Slavic eyes--and no human being could perceive the emotions--the
mental suffering--as if the cords of her heart were being tightened
until they must break--her former self must die that she could
reawaken--A conquered self.

* * * * *

The last movement was beginning. Dasha Ivanovna was hardly
conscious that she played. The music swept around her--military--a
call--to what? It was of marching--a faint--far away--Somewhere--out of
childhood days rose the memory of her tiny hands applauding Russian
soldiers as they passed--But now like a deserter she had turned away
from the once loved country.

TROIKI--on glistening snow--

AND then what she always termed the Triumphant part of the
symphony--where each time she played it, she knew not why--but Aida--the
triumphant entry of the King

RHADAMES--
and Cossacks riding madly--furiously

SPLENDOR--

DASHA--no it was not the leader's whistle--it was an inward voice--no
one else could hear its piercing, agonizing sound--only the depth of her
very being knew--a call--Russia--the land of her fathers that she had
deserted.

COSSACKS riding in the Steppes--

SHE dropped her bow and moved trance-like from the hall--

RUSSIA----

II

Dasha Ivanovna was once more in the land of her forefathers.
Already she had walked in