Speaking in parenthesis, she herself looks like a summer morning. She is in a robe of raw silk and a straw hat with poppies. I cannot take my eyes from her. She came in an open carriage. Therefore people begin at once to surround us; but what does she care for that! At last the carriage moves on; my heart beats with more animation; in a quarter of an hour I shall see the Helena dreamed of. We have not driven a hundred yards when I see Ostrynski at a distance coming toward us. That man must be omnipresent! Seeing us, he halts, bows to Eva, then looks quickly at both of us, especially at me. I do not admit that he recognizes me; still, after we pass him I look around, and see that he is standing there all the time, following us with his eyes. Only at the turn do we lose him from sight. The carriage moves on rather swiftly; still it seems to me that the ride lasts an age. At length we stop in the alley of Belvedere. We are before Hela's house. I fly to the door as if shot at it. Eva runs after me, crying,-- "What a hateful old grandfather!" The servant, in a very showy livery, opens the door; and the next instant opens his eyes very widely at sight of me. Eva allays his astonishment, saying that the grandfather came with her, and we go upstairs. The waiting-maid appears in a moment, declares that the lady is dressing in the next chamber, and vanishes. "Good-day, Hela!" cries Eva. "Good-day, Evus!" answers a wonderful, a fresh voice, "right away! right away! I shall be ready in a moment." "Hela, thou knowest not what is waiting for thee, nor whom thou wilt see. I have brought thee a 'grandfather,'--the most genuine 'grandfather-minstrel' that has ever walked over the steppes of the Ukraine." A cry of joy is heard in the chamber; the door opens suddenly, and in rushes Hela, in her corsets, her hair hanging down. "A grandfather! a blind grandfather! here in Warsaw!" "He is not blind; he sees!" cried Eva, hurriedly, not wishing to carry the jest too far. But it was late, for that instant I throw myself at Hela's feet, and cry,-- "Cherub of the Lord!" I embrace her feet with both hands, raising my eyes the while; I see a little more than the form of those feet. Nations kneel down! People come with censers! A Venus of Milo! a perfect one! "Cherub!" I repeat, with genuine ecstasy. My minstrel enthusiasm was explained by this, that after long wandering I had met the first Ukraine soul. Notwithstanding that, Hela withdraws her feet from my hands and hurries away. I see her bare shoulders during the twinkle of an eye, and her neck, which reminds me of Psyche in the Neapolitan Museum. She vanishes then through the doorway; but I remain kneeling in the middle of the room. Eva threatens me with her parasol, and laughs, hiding her rosy face in a bouquet of reseda. Meanwhile a dialogue is begun through the door in the most beautiful dialect ever spoken from the Pripet to Chertomelik.