tionate champagne that is to
blame, but usually the orgies remain quite innocent, of a character that
certainly might trouble the temperance societies but need not make M. le
Senateur Berenger feel involved.

A war whose powder fumes reeked still, a revolution whose last defeated
growls had not died away at the period of these events, had not at all
diminished the nightly gayeties of Kretowsky. Many of the young men who
displayed their uniforms that evening and called their "Nichevo" along
the brilliantly lighted paths of the public gardens, or filled the
open-air tables, or drank vodka at the buffets, or admired the figures
of the wandering soubrettes, had come here on the eve of their departure
for the war and had returned with the same child-like, enchanted smile,
the same ideal of futile joy, and kissed their passing comrades as gayly
as ever. Some of them had a sleeve lying limp now, or walked with a
crutch, or even on a wooden leg, but it was, all the same, "Nichevo!"

The crowd this evening was denser than ordinarily, because there was the
chance to hear Annouchka again for the first time since the somber days
of Moscow. The students were ready to give her an ovation, and no one
opposed it, because, after all, if she sang now it was because the
police were willing at last. If the Tsar's government had granted her
her life, it was not in order to compel her to die of hunger. Each
earned a livelihood as was possible. Annouchka only knew how to sing and
dance, and so she must sing and dance!

When Rouletabille entered the Krestowsky Gardens, Annouchka had
commenced her number, which ended with a tremendous "Roussalka."
Surrounded by a chorus of male and female dancers in the national
dress and with red boots, striking tambourines with their fingers, then
suddenly taking a rigid pose to let the young woman's voice, which
was of rather ordinary register, come out, Annouchka had centered the
attention of the immense audience upon herself. All the other parts
of the establishment were deserted, the tables had been removed, and a
panting crowd pressed about the open-air theater. Rouletabille stood up
on his chair at the moment tumultuous "Bravos" sounded from a group of
students. Annouchka bowed toward them, seeming to ignore the rest of
the audience, which had not dared declare itself yet. She sang the old
peasant songs arranged to present-day taste, and interspersed them with
dances. They had an enormous success, bec