The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1870-11-28
and disappears, thus bringing tue festivities to

come an old man of whom no 'one takes any
heed; who passes the greater part OF his day In
fishing, or pretending TO fish, in neighborIng
pond. friend who goes to look for him fiuds
him sitting on the bank fishing with line
which has no hook to it, and scarcely recog-
nizes the giant who uted to be so proud OF his
strength both of mind and body in the broken,
grey-bearded old man who crouches there,
gazing on the water with lack-lustre eyes. On
this occasion Kharlof will say nothing about
himself but few days afterwards he suddenly
makes his appearance at the house OF his chief
friend, lady whose life he had saved. some
years before
The day on which he comes is one of Wind
and rain, and when he reaches the house he Is
wet through. and SO covered with mud from
head to foot that he looks more like a bear than
ever, and bear which has fallen on evil days.
1t is some time before he can speak, but when
he is able to do so be tells a tale that is very
sad He had long been subjected to cruelip
zecuton, il seems, by his daughters and his
son-in-law. They had taken away his favorte
servant from him. sold the horse on which he
had always been accustomed to ride, grudsed
him his eating and drinking. aud kept back
from him his little monthly allowance OF
money. But he had endured all this patiently
not being able to bear the idea of confessing to
the world how mistaken he had been. But
at last his children have turned him out,
he says-have taken the room in which
he has lived so long and sent his bed upstairs
into an attic. And this insult has broken down
his patience: so he has left the accursed dwell
under the roof of his old friend. She treats
him with the greatest kindness, aud he seems
consoled and pacfed for o time. But after
while he is suddenly stung to madness by the
taunts of the brother of his dead wife, who had
predicted that he would some day be turned out
of his house, and who now eXults in the fulfil
ment of his prophecy. In a paroXysm of rage
he rushes away from the kindly refuge he had
sought, exclaiming that as his children have
driven him from under their roof he will leave
them no roof to cover them-a threat which is
no mere figure of speech.
The scene in which his wild proceedings are
described is strange one indeed kharlof
climbs to the top of the house that once was
his and applies all his enormous strength, now
fully restored to him, to destroying the root.
From below terrified crowd gazed at the mad
man, who is wreaking his vengeance on all that
he can lay hands on. The covering of the
slightly built dwelling soon yields to his mighty
efforts, and down come tumbling portions OF
tlimsy structure which bears but little likeness
to firm English roof. The peasants swarm
into the yard, but none of them show any in
clination to interfere with him, however much
they are ordered or entreated to do so by the
wretched Slyotkine, who rushes about in a state
of frenzy, yellow with terror, brandshing a
gun, with which he threatens to shoot his
father.in-law. Anna runs in and out
of the house in state OF distrac-
ton; Eylampia leans like statue
against wall, never taking her eyes off her
father. By her side stands an old bareheaded
priest, supporting large cross with both hands,
and now and then in silent despair holding it
forth towards Kharlof. At last Slyotkne levels
his gun and is on the point of shooting when
Evlampia strikes up his arm. Then she turns
to her father, calls to him that she and her sis
ter have sinned, entreats him to pardon theu
and to come down and live with them again.
But he, standing there on high, with hands all
! torn and bleeding, and blood streaming through
! the rents in his clothes, and his white hair aud
| beard tossed about by the wind, only cries that
it is too late, and heaps abuse on his son-in-law
Inu hal ie in riyl,rt 70
him, when suddenly part of the woodwork
which Kharlof is pushing gives way, and he
falls headlong with it from the roof to the
ground. In q few minutes he breathes his last.
We pass on to the last two scenes in this
domestic tragedy. Some years after Kharlol's
death, the narrator of the story pays visit to
the house in which that victim of flial ingrati-
tude used to live. 1t is in perfect order, and the
| roof-an iron one-is in thorough repair. khar-
lofs elder daughter, now widow, lives in it
with her children. Her sister, Evlampia, had
disappeared soon after her fathers DEATH TAX
! ing with her merely small store of money,
| and no news had ever been heard of her. Anna
evidently leads very happy life. Her health
| is excellent her children are handsome and
strong, her estate is in admirable order. An air
of quiet and of substantial comfort pervades
the whole house and its belongings Her neigh
bors, who, among themselves, make no secret
of their belief that she poisoned her husband,
show her unfeigned respect. For them she is q
truly great woman, one who, if she had been
|
Semiramis or Catherine the Second"
-Four years later the narrator is out on q
shooting excursion in the neighborhood of St
Petersburg, and he passes a strange-looking
house, almost hidden behind high and close
paling, only its steep red roof being visible from
the high road. This house, he is told by his
companion, man who is acquainted with every
thing that goes on, belongs to some of the mem
bers of one of the Widest and most fauaticai o.
the Russian seets, and in it dwells their head
the being whom they hold most sacred, theil
mystical "Mother of God" The house eXer
cises a strange influence upon him, he knows
not Why and he often finds himself nearit wher
out shooting. On one occasion the gate opens
as he passes by, and q carriage comes
out drawn by mighty horse and driven by
strikingly handsome young man in merchants
dress By his side sits o tall woman, erect as
dart, in whom the sportsman to his utter stupe
faction recognizes Evampia. Her face ha'
grown longer and thinner, her complexion hat
become darker and she has wrinkled o little
but the principal change which has taken place
in her is to be found in her expression, whict
has become one of uualloyed pride and self
confidence. Her look is now that of {
woman who lives surrounded not so muct
by worshippers by slaves-who Ia;
long forgotten any time at which her every wish
was not instantly accomplished. Her old ac
quaintance calls her by her former name. bu
her companion lashes his horse, the carriage
darts away at full speed and in few minutes
she is out of sight. Nothing more is ever heard
of her, aud the mystery Is never cleared up as tc
how she became recognized as a "Mother Of
God, sacred being from whom Messiah il
some day to spring.
Such is bare o1tliue of NJ. Turguenieff ;.
story. With what dramatic skill and grace o.
diction ii is told may be easily imagined by al
who are in any degree acquainted with hi:
writings.