The above notes are largely taken, and partly translated, from an interesting paper on Mérejkowski by M. Prozor in the _Mercure de France_. HERBERT TRENCH. ST. PETERSBOURG, _24 JUIN_, 1901. J'autorise par la présente Monsieur Herbert Trench à l'exclusion de tout autre, à traduire du russe en anglais mon roman intitulé _La Mort des Dieux_, qui est la première partie de ma trilogie _Le Christ et l'Anti-Christ_. DMITRI DE MÉREJKOWSKI. [I hereby grant to Mr. Herbert Trench the exclusive authorisation for the English version of my romance entitled _The Death of the Gods_, this romance constituting the first division of the trilogy issued under the general title of _Christ and the Anti-Christ_.] A similar authorisation has been granted to Mr. Trench for the two succeeding volumes of the trilogy, entitled, respectively, _The Resurrection of the Gods_ and _The Anti-Christ_. PART I I About two and a half miles from Cæsarea in Cappadocia, upon the woody spurs of Mount Argæus, and close to the great Roman road, bubbled a certain warm spring, famous for its healing virtues. A granite slab, adorned with rough sculpture and bearing a Greek inscription, proved that this spring had of old time been consecrated to the twin sons of Zeus, Castor and Pollux; but this by no means prevented the unbroken images of these Pagan demigods from being locally worshipped as St. Cosmas and St. Damian respectively. On the other side of the road, opposite the sacred fountain, rose a little thatched tavern, flanked by a dirty stable, and by a shed where fowls and geese were dabbling in the mud. In this tavern, owned by one Syrax, a wily Armenian, could be bought goats'-milk cheese, black bread, honey, olive oil, and a thin sour wine, grown in neighbouring vineyards. A screen divided the tavern into two compartments; one for the use of common folk, the other for guests of more importance. From the smoked ceiling hung hams curing, and odorous bunches of mountain herbs, proving that Fortunata, the wife of Syrax, was a careful housewife; a fact that did not save the dubious reputation of the establishment. At night honest travellers dared not halt here, remembering sundry rumours about dark plots hatched in the cottage; but Syrax, ever scheming, and knowing whose hand to cross with silver, had never troubled his head about rumour. The partition was formed by two slender columns, between which was stretched, in the manner of a door-curtain, an old chlamys (or outer garment) of faded wool, belonging to the mistress of the house. The little columns, wrought in a barefaced attempt at the Doric style, were the pride of the heart of Syrax and the single ornament of the tavern. Once gilded, they had long stood creviced and chipped and hopelessly cracked.