e song resounded louder and louder, with increasing
joy. Held in the friendly hands of the 'strugglers,' the black
coffin slowly sank into the earth.

"We sang the Marseillaise!"

* * * * *

The two main characters of "The Gulf," a student and a school-girl,
are walking and discussing rather deep things, such as immortality
and the beauty of pure and noble love. They feel some sadness in
speaking about these things, but love appears more and more luminous
to them. It rises before their eyes, as large as the world, bursting
forth like the sun and marvelously beautiful, and they know that
there is nothing so powerful as love.

"You could die for the woman you loved?" asked Zinochka.

"Of course," replies Nemovetsky unhesitatingly, in a frank and
sincere voice, "and you?"

"I too!" She remains pensive a moment. "To die for the one you love,
that is a great happiness! Would that that were to be my destiny!"

Gradually night falls. Nemovetsky and his companion lose their way
in the woods; they finally arrive in a clearing, where three
filthy-looking men are seated about an empty bottle. These
intoxicated men, whose wicked eyes light up with a brutal envy of
enjoyment and love of destruction, try to quarrel with Nemovetsky,
and one of them ends by striking him full in the face with his fist.
Zinochka runs away. His heart full of terror, Nemovetsky can hear
the shrieks of his friend, whom the vagabonds have caught. Then a
feeling of emptiness comes over him, and he loses consciousness. Two
of the men throw him into a ravine.

An hour later, Nemovetsky regains consciousness; he gets up with
great pain, for he is badly wounded. He remembers what has happened.
Fright and despair seize him. He begins to run and call for help
with all his strength, at the same time looking among all the
bushes, when at his feet, he sees a dim, white form. It is his
companion, who lies there motionless. He falls down on his knees and
touches her. His hand encounters a nude body, damp and cold, but
still living. It seems to grow warm at his touch. He pictures to
himself with abominable clearness what the men have done. A feeling
of strange strength circulates in his members. On his knees in front
of the young girl, in the obscurity of the forest, he tries to bring
her back to life, calling her sweet names, caressing her hair,
rubbing her cold hands.

"With infinite precautions, but also with deep tenderness,