a mixture of earthly dirt and supernatural beauty about
this child; besides, she had one thing that even coal-dust could not
conceal or dim, her eyes--her large black eyes--shining like two
diamonds, which lit up the darkness as two stars.

As these wonderful eyes met Ivan's glance, it seemed to that
philosopher as if these diamonds cut away a portion of the glass phial
in which he had preserved his heart, and so kept it untouched up to
this. But he did not know that this was only the beginning; his glass
protector will soon lie in fragments all round him.

The girl made a little curtsey to her employer, and accompanied this
small act of duty with a smile which showed two rows of beautiful,
pearly-white teeth.

Ivan felt like an enchanted knight in a fairy tale. He forgot what had
brought him here, and what he wanted to say; he remained rooted to the
spot, gazing blankly after the retreating figure of the girl and her
companions. He hoped, without exactly defining what his hope was, that
she would look back. That little action would have broken the charm
under which he lay. But she did not look back, although one of her
companions called her by her name, "Evila." Ivan could see them
talking to her, whispering, no doubt, about him. This did not seem to
rouse any curiosity in her. She and they had now come to an open shed.
Here they seated themselves upon the ground, took out of their pockets
pieces of black bread and wild apples, and ate their meal with as much
zest as if it had been chicken and grapes.

Ivan returned to his house. For the first time in his life it struck
him how lonely it was. It was his custom to keep a sort of log-book,
in which he entered his personal notes upon all his work-people. He
found this practice very necessary; he knew that a skilled workman of
good conduct is far more useful at high wages than a lazy,
good-for-nothing fellow of doubtful character who would come for half
the wage. At the footnote by the name "Evila" he read--

"A young orphan; supports a crippled brother younger than herself,
who goes upon crutches, and whose tongue is paralyzed. She is very
steady, and does not go to the town."

It was certain, therefore, that he must have seen this child before,
but had given no attention to her. Every Saturday he paid every
workman, every girl and lad in the pit; how, then, had he escaped
noticing those wonderful eyes? He did not know, learned as he was,
that there is an affinity