there was still existing at Petersburg the celebrated house of ice, built last century, about which she had lately read a very curious article in one of her husband’s books, “_Bettezze delle arti_.” And in reply to Sanin’s exclamation, “Do you really suppose that there is never any summer in Russia?” Frau Lenore replied that till then she had always pictured Russia like this—eternal snow, every one going about in furs, and all military men, but the greatest hospitality, and all the peasants very submissive! Sanin tried to impart to her and her daughter some more exact information. When the conversation touched on Russian music, they begged him at once to sing some Russian air and showed him a diminutive piano with black keys instead of white and white instead of black. He obeyed without making much ado and accompanying himself with two fingers of the right hand and three of the left (the first, second, and little finger) he sang in a thin nasal tenor, first “The Sarafan,” then “Along a Paved Street.” The ladies praised his voice and the music, but were more struck with the softness and sonorousness of the Russian language and asked for a translation of the text. Sanin complied with their wishes—but as the words of “The Sarafan,” and still more of “Along a Paved Street’ (_sur une rue pavée une jeune fille allait à l’eau_ was how he rendered the sense of the original) were not calculated to inspire his listeners with an exalted idea of Russian poetry, he first recited, then translated, and then sang Pushkin’s, “I remember a marvellous moment,” set to music by Glinka, whose minor bars he did not render quite faithfully. Then the ladies went into ecstasies. Frau Lenore positively discovered in Russian a wonderful likeness to the Italian. Even the names Pushkin (she pronounced it Pussekin) and Glinka sounded somewhat familiar to her. Sanin on his side begged the ladies to sing something; they too did not wait to be pressed. Frau Lenore sat down to the piano and sang with Gemma some duets and “stornelle.” The mother had once had a fine contralto; the daughter’s voice was not strong, but was pleasing. VI