ya seated himself at the piano
and played from one of his unpublished scores. Ilse sang two
Scandinavian songs in her fresh, wholesome, melodious voice--the song
called _Ygdrasil_, and the _Song of Thokk_. Wardner had brought a
violin, and he and Vanya accompanied Marya's Asiatic songs, but with
some difficulty on the sculptor's part, as modern instruments are
scarcely adapted to the sort of Russian music she chose to sing.

Marya had a way, when singing, which appeared almost insolent. Seated,
or carelessly erect, her supple figure fell into lines of indolently
provocative grace; and the warm, golden notes welling from her throat
seemed to be flung broadcast and indifferently to her listeners, as
alms are often flung, without interest, toward abstract poverty and
not to the poor breathing thing at one's elbow.

She sang, in her preoccupied way, one of her savage, pentatonic songs,
more Mongol than Cossack; then she sang an impudent _burlatskiya_
lazily defiant of her listeners; then a so-called "dancing song," in
which there was little restraint in word or air.

The subtly infernal enchantment of girl and music was felt by everybody;
but several among the illuminati and the fair ultra-modernettes had
now reached their limit of breadth and tolerance, and were becoming
bored and self-conscious, when abruptly Marya's figure straightened
to a lovely severity, her mouth opened sweetly as a cherub's, and,
looking up like a little, ruddy bird, she sang one of the ancient
_Kolyadki_, Vanya alone understanding as his long, thin fingers
wandered instinctively into an improvised accompaniment:

I

"Young tears
Your fears disguise;
He is not coming!
Sweet lips
Let slip no sighs;
Cease, heart, your drumming!
He is not coming,
[A]_Lada!_
He is not coming.
_Lada oy Lada!_

"Gaze not in wonder,--
Yonder no rider comes;
Hark how the kettle-drums
Mock his hoofs' thunder;
Hark to their thudding,
Pretty breasts budding,--
Setting the Buddhist bells
Clanking and banging,--
Wheels at the