unfortunate of all, is a man named
Kizhnakov; he is pale, sickly, worn by work, almost devoured by
suffering and alcohol; death already lies in wait for him. The most
terrible thing for this man is the necessity of having to begin to
live again each day. He would like to lie down all day and think of
suicide under the heap of rags that serve him as a covering. He
would like best to have some one come up back of him, and shoot him.
He fears his own voice and his own thoughts. And it is on him that
the baby produces the deepest impression. Since the birth of the
child Kizhnakov does not sleep any more; he tries to protect himself
from the cold, and weeps softly, without sadness and without
convulsions, like those who have pure and innocent hearts, like
children.

"'Why do I weep?' he asks himself.

"Not finding a suitable answer, he replies: 'It is thus....'

"And the meaning of his words is so deep that a new flood of tears
come to the eyes of the man whose life is so sad and solitary."

We find the same theme again in "The Angel." A child who also lives
in a cellar comes back from a Christmas-tree; he brings with him a
toy, and a pretty little wax angel, which he shows to his father.
The latter has seen better days, but in the last few years he has
been sick with consumption, and now he is awaiting death, silent and
continually exasperated by the sight of social injustice. However,
the delight of the child infects the father, and both of them have a
feeling "of something that joins all hearts into one, and does away
with the abyss which separates man from man, and makes him so
solitary, unfortunate, and weak." The poor dying man seems to hear a
voice from this better world, where he once lived and from which he
had been sent forever.

But these are only the dreams of a dying man, the last rays of light
of the life which is being extinguished. The ray, penetrating this
sick soul, is like the weak sunlight which passes through the dirty
windows of a dark hovel.

* * * * *

In his two stories, "The Stranger" and "The Obscure Future,"
Andreyev shows us two men of entirely different character, animated
by generous feelings and a firm will. One of them, a young student,
being disgusted with the miseries of Russian life and having decided
to expatriate himself, suddenly changes his mind, as a result of the
patriotism of one of his friends, a Servian, named Raiko. He makes
it his duty n