I had prepared myself for every possible query, therefore I lie as if from notes. "I am a beekeeper, from near Chigirin. My daughter wandered after a Pole to Warsaw; and I, old man, was grieving, grieving on the beefarm, till I wandered on after her. Good people give me coppers for singing--and now what? I shall see my dear child, give her my blessing, then return home, because I yearn for Mother Ukraine. There I am to die among the beehives. Every man must die; and it is time for old Philip this long while." What a thing the actor nature is! Evus knows who I am; but she is affected so much by my rôle that she begins to nod her beautiful head in a melancholy manner, and looks at me with sympathy. Hela's voice quivers from the other room, also with emotion. The door opens a little; a wonderfully white arm appears through the opening; and, unexpectedly, I find myself in possession of three rubles, which I receive; I cannot do otherwise, and what is more, I pour out on Hela's head a torrent of blessings in the names of all the saints. I am interrupted by the waiting-maid with the announcement that Pan Ostrynski is downstairs, and inquires if the lady will receive him. "Don't let him in, my dear!" cries Eva, in alarm. Hela declares that of course she will not receive him. She even expresses astonishment at such an early visit. I, to tell the truth, also do not understand how Ostrynski, who boasts, and is celebrated for his knowledge of social forms, should come at that hour. "There is something in this," says Eva. But time fails for further explanations, since Hela appears at that moment already dressed, and breakfast is announced. Both ladies pass into the dining-room. Hela wishes to seat me at the table; but I refuse, and sit with my lyre at the threshold. Soon I receive a plate so filled with food that if six grandfathers of the Ukraine were to eat all of it, they might have a fit of indigestion. But I eat, for I am hungry, and while eating I look at Hela. In truth, a more beautiful head there is not in any gallery on earth. As I live, I have not seen such transparent eyes; it is simply possible to see all thoughts through them, just as the bottom of a clear stream is seen. Those eyes possess this power also, that they begin to laugh before the mouth; by this the face is brightened, as if a sun-ray had fallen on it. What incomparable sweetness in the form of the mouth! That is a head somewhat in the style of Carlo Dolce, though the outline of the brows and the eyes bring to mind Raphael in his noblest type. At last I cease to eat; I gaze and gaze; I would gaze till death. "Thou wert not here yesterday," says Hela to Eva. "I hoped all the afternoon to see thee run in." "In the morning I had a rehearsal, and in the afternoon I wanted to see Magorski's picture." "Didst see it?" "Not well, for there was a crowd--and thou?" "I went in the morning. What a poet!--one wishes to weep with those Jews." Eva looks at me, and my soul rises.