San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1888-12-21
smmds tnar VIII, cnanf his I7raise,,

buzzed by hundreds in sort of pious muir
muring, while above him sounded the clear
song of the birds, losing itself in the blue air;
the light warm and golden. Vlasin rose up I
nd, throwing glance about him, drew the
bow across the chords and listened. 1t
seemed to him as if the whole world had
hushed itself to pay attention.
Soon the notes, undecided and heSitating
at first, came fast and pressing; it was like
the vanishing of an evil charm under which
he, Doroschenka, until then had been bound
and fastened. He perceived it himself, this
wealth of dormant melody that was in him,
and which he made to pass into the sonorous,
echoing body of the instrument in his hands.
He comprehended nothing of this miracle
that had happened to him-he who had re-
ceived lessons from no one.
No matter; he remained there in the midst
of that nature SO suddenly reborn in him
playing, singing, in the full Joy of the liberty
that possessed him-the liberty of the eagle,
king Of the air; of the Cossack, king of the
desert.
In the village or at work it was with the
solicitude of miser that he hid his treasure
from the eyes Of all, but when he found him
self alone again in the shadows of the forest
or In the immensely of the plain, when no
eye saw him, no ear heard him, he opened
his long overcoat Of thick cloth, took the in
strument that he carried upon bis heart and
played.
1t was thus that on one bright evening, I'M
Ger a heaven pure an studded with stars, he
drew from the harmonious chords notes or
inexpressible sweetness and melancholy. All
noises were hushed about him; the insects
that wavered always aba-c that emerald sea
troubled not even by the whirring of wing
the silence impressive and sublime Vlasin
dreamed as he played, and, dreaming, saw
before him the shades Of heroes whose corpses
had once lain thick as leaves upon this soil in
those deadly struggles between the Tartars
and the Ottomans.
Then the steppe began to talk to him, and
the wind that passed across the long grasses
to bring him the echo of plaintiye voice,
and soon the words of an old song Ia nearly
forgotten song by Hmielnizki the Cossack)
that fioated in the air all sweet with perfume.
The voice approached always, and suddenly
a charming head emerged from the green
waves. A fairy of the steppe, perhaps, her
eyes, dark and soft, expressing profound as
constituent; her face of ravishing beauty;
her breast, covered with strings of coral and
sequins of gold. A fairy of the steppel By
no means, for the Lair that was imprisoned,
blonde, like ripening wheat-and she carried
upon her embroidered chemise and her gayl
colored robe a soukmanna of cloth blue as
the heavens.
The heart of Vlasin bounded in his breast,
while Dodena, motionless three steps FRONT
him, plucked flower, then another, them
still a third, striving to conceal her trouble.
sit is thou, then, who playest so well" shel
said at last But Vlasin, without replyingl
a single word, recommended his melodies, di-
recting his steps toward the depths of thel
steppe, the enchanted violin showing itself
truly worthy of its name; the young girl, fas-
cinated by those ardent and passionate
strains following by his side with a linger.
ing, hesitating step, then with one more as
sured, until presently she placed her hand
upon the arm of Doroschenka, and when h
raised his voice AMI sang, she sang also ano
with him-a duo, you would have said, Of
the braZen bourbon and the silver bell.
They walked for a long time, happy as
pair Of birds upon bough, and thereafts
returned to meet again every evening, bt,
without ever giving each other a rendezvous.
Vlasin now conducted himself very differ,
emily from in the past. He carried his head
high, no longer lowered his eyes in travers-
ing the streets, and when he played, the
young girls, charmed as Dodena had been,
clustered at his heels. He noticed them not,
however, but went with no other thought
than to rejoin her who awaited him under
the humid and vague light of the stars in the
midst of the steppe, which undulated black
and murmuring as the sea.
Before long, as was to be expected, the
rumor began to circulate that Doroschenka
had magic violin with which he bewitched
the hearts Of the beauties young and old.
But one Sunday, as the girls and boys were
united at the steps of the church after the
benedictions were over, and the parents
grouped about them, amusing themselves
with their diversions, Vlasin came from the
temple, his instrument in his hand. Hardly
had he placed his foot upon the threshold
when a dozen voices began to cry in threaten
ing tones:
ITO the water with the sorcererl To the
water, and in with himl" and the hot heads
threw themselves towards him to do as they
were bid. Vlasin did not stir, but TRANQUILITY
raised his bow and played They stopped to
listen, and as the sounds grew marked, the ca
dence louder and more engaging, boys and
girls began to dance, and soon the parents
themselves, unable to resist that delicious
music, Joined their children and even rivaled
them in the ardor and zeal with which they
whirled and pirouetted
Doroschenka had nothing more to fear
from his fellow citizens, and one day, not long
after this, when the old Betzkor betook him
self to the house of priest and implored di-
vine assistance to deliver his daughter
Dodena from the spell laid upon her by that
rascaly Doroschenka, the priest only smiled
and shook his head.