which the artist had given the finishing stroke of his brush. That other one had been a charming, giddy girl: this was a beauty, a woman in the full development of her charms. Complete feeling, not scraps and hints of feeling, but all feeling, was expressed in her eyes as she raised them. The tears were not yet dry in them, and framed them in a shining dew, which pierced the very soul. Her bosom, neck and arms were moulded in proportions which indicated fully developed loveliness. Her hair which, in former days, had waved in airy ringlets about her face, had become a heavy, luxuriant mass, part of which was fastened up, while part in long, slender, beautifully curling locks spread over her breast. It seemed as though her every feature were changed. In vain did he seek to discover in them a single one of those which were engraved on his memory,—there was not one. Even her extreme pallor did not lessen her wonderful beauty: on the contrary, it seemed to impart to it an irresistibly conquering charm. And Andríi felt in all his soul a reverent timidity, and stood motionless before her. She, too, seemed surprised at the appearance of the kazák, as he stood before her in all his beauty, and the might of his young manhood, and in the very immovability of his limbs personified the utmost freedom of movement. His eyes beamed
