s, gave the Tzigana reputation for
eccentricity; which, however, neither pleased nor displeased her, as she
was perfectly indifferent to the opinion of the public at large.

She continued to inhabit, near the forest of Saint-Germain, beyond the
fashionable avenues, the villa, ornamented with the holy Muscovite icon,
which Prince Tchereteff had purchased; and she persisted in remaining
there alone with old Vogotzine, who regarded her respectfully with his
round eyes, always moist with 'kwass' or brandy.

Flying the crowded city, eager for space and air, a true daughter of
Hungary, Marsa loved to ride through the beautiful, silent park, down
the long, almost deserted avenues, toward the bit of pale blue horizon
discernible in the distance at the end of the sombre arch formed by the
trees. Birds, startled by the horses' hoofs, rose here and there out of
the bushes, pouring forth their caroling to the clear ether; and Marsa,
spurring her thoroughbred, would dash in a mad gallop toward a little,
almost unknown grove of oaks, with thickets full of golden furze and
pink heather, where woodcutters worked, half buried in the long grass
peppered with blue cornflowers and scarlet poppies.

Or, at other times, with Duna and Bundas bounding before her,
disappearing, returning, disappearing again with yelps of joy, it was
Marsa's delight to wander alone under the great limes of the Albine
avenue--shade over her head, silence about her--and then slowly, by way
of a little alley bordered with lofty poplars trembling at every breath
of wind, to reach the borders of the forest. In ten steps she would
suddenly find herself plunged in solitude as in a bath of verdure, shade
and oblivion. The sweet silence surrounding her calmed her, and she
would walk on and on though the thick grass under the great trees. The
trunks of the giant oaks were clothed in robes of emerald moss, and wild
flowers of all descriptions raised their heads amid the grass. There
was no footstep, no sound; a bee lazily humming, a brilliant butterfly
darting across the path, something quick and red flashing up a tree--a
squirrel frightened by the Danish hounds; that was all. And Marsa was
happy with the languorous happiness which nature gives, her forehead
cooled by the fresh breeze, her eyes rested by the deep green which hid
the shoes, her whole being refreshed by the atmosphere of peace which
fell from the trees.

Then, calling her dogs, she would proceed to a litt