A feeling of profound reverence made him think the dead girl's thoughts in deep humility. Had he remained an hour longer, he would have risen to the heights where madness dwells. Without wishing to confess it to himself, he knew that it was fear on his own account which was taking possession of him. Throughout all that was overwhelming him at this moment, he felt that, a great lack of balance was threatening to deprive him of the essence of human feeling--of egoism. To stifle egoism would mean his allowing himself to be enveloped by the same rosy mist which had transported this girl from the earth. He must escape at once. Having decided on this, he began to despair in beautiful phrases which immediately brought him considerable relief. He ordered the sledge to be brought round.... Bending over Stasia's body, he whispered all the beautiful, empty things which people say in praise of greatness. He lingered once more in the doorway and looked back; for a second he wondered whether it would not be better to die at once. Then he pushed past the peasants crowding round the door, sprang into the sledge, tripped himself up, tumbled on his face, and was carried off, stifled by spasmodic sobs. * * * * * Stanisława's death exercised so much influence over Dr. Paweł's disposition that for some time afterwards, in his leisure moments, he read Dante's _Divine Comedy_; he gave up playing whist, and dismissed his housekeeper, aged twenty-four. But gradually he grew calm. He is now doing exceedingly well; he has grown stout, and has made a nice little sum. He has even revived some of his optimistic tendencies. For thanks to his energetic agitation, all the world in Obrzydłówek, with the exception of a few conservatives, is now smoking cigarettes rolled by themselves, instead of buying ready-made ones which are known to be injurious. At last!... FOOTNOTES: [22] It is considered a special privilege to walk on either side of the priest and support his arms in the procession. [23] Answers more or less to the old-fashioned term "beadle." THE CHUKCHEE BY WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI The country was shrouded in the bitter Arctic night. Cold mists swept along the ground below; a dark sky, spangled with stars, stretched above.