she had a mos' difficult time of it, and ever'body knows how it has sour' her." "And so she was taking it out on poor Henri!" I indignantly complained.

"Still, I would n' break a heart about poor Henri," quoth Jacqueline, darkly. "But Miss Daniels ring the bell furiously, like a woman who had invent' gunpowder, and when I went to the door, she ask' me if I knew my rooster had been trying to kill her rooster-her prize Spanish rooster. So I told her how sorry I was, and how my pets had been hunting all morning, each one trying to measure the other's ears, and at last I said, 'Come and look in the summer-house and see what PomPom caught!" "

"And did she go in?" I asked when Jacqueline paused.

"Of course she went in," said Jacqueline, loftily. "Tr-r-r-r-r-rippingly. Any woman would; she was curious to see."

"And did you go in with her?" I asked when Jacqueline paused again.

"Of course I did n' go in with her,' said Jacqueline, more loftily than before. "I came away because Aunt Gabrielle had often said that if they could only be shut in the same room two minutes together, they would be married in less than a month."

"And did they stay in there two minutes together?"

"That is a reason why Aunt Gaby had you fire the gun," said Jacqueline, her eyes beginning to dance once more. "They have been in there t'ree hours and a half!" There was a movement in the summerhouse, and Miss Daniels came out, closely

followed by the beaming Mr. Packer. "Oh, there you are!" said Miss Daniels. "We 've been looking everywhere for you, have n't we, Jim?"

"Everywhere," exclaimed the beaming Mr. Packer. They joined us in the grapearbor, where Miss Daniels patted PomPom's head. Following Jacqueline's expressive glance, I saw an engagement-ring on the third finger of Miss Daniels's left hand.

"Well," said Miss Daniels, seating herself on one end of a bench beneath the arbor, "we must go now."

"Yes," said the beaming Mr. Packer, seating himself on the other end of the bench, "we must go now."

Jacqueline and I exchanged another glance and then we left them there.

"For," said Jacqueline, "I would rather not be where I 'm wanted than be where I'm not." That was at half-past four. It is ten minutes to six now, and Miss Daniels and Mr. Packer are still in the grape-arbor. A minute ago Pom-Pom ran up the street as though engaged on a very important errand, while Henri watched him from the lawn with the air of a rooster who wishes a friend good luck. "Hello!" I said, "where 's Pom-Pom going now? Hunting again?"

"I would n' be a bit surprise'," exclaimed Jacqueline. And then in tones that trembled with hope and a fearful joy she added, "Of course I know it won't happen, M'sieur, just as well as ever'body, but would n' it be funny if Pom-Pom caught a minister this time, and carried him into the grape-arbor!"

At night I felt free. I did not see the dreary walls or the guards. In my dreams. I soared into space, I dwelt in the skies, I performed miracles. The walls of the prison crumbled under my touch, bullets did not strike me, and I could defeat all the czar's legions. But the first glimmer of day scattered my dreams, and I, chained, was again in the hands of my enemies.

It was midnight. Everything was asleep and quiet; only the measured steps of the sentry under my window could be heard. Quietly, without rising from my cot, I ripped my pillow open, and took out my masculine garb. I was afraid to move, because the soldier peeped into my window every minute. With trembling hands I cut my long tresses. I put a kerchief on my head, and on the top of my masculine attire I donned the prisoner's gray coat; and thus fully dressed, I lay, I could not sleep, and I did not want to sleep. There were only a few hours left for me to live, I thought, and I was willing to fall from the soldier's bullet outside the prison wall rather than go back to Akatui.

At six o'clock I got up. The sun was rising over my window, as bright and smiling as ever, but in my heart there was no response to its smiles, no reflection of its rays; only darkness and uncertainty were there. Minutes and hours passed. My heart was growing cold, and at times. almost ceased beating. When I came out into the yard for my last walk the regular strokes of a hammer reached my ear. Through crevices in the wall I could see two prisoners at work; they were building a staircase to the watchman's tower. They were guarded by a soldier. All grew dark before me. There was no more hope: another soldier at the gate!

The clock struck ten. I stood near the wall where the sounds came from, and it seemed to me that with every stroke of the hammer they nailed down the lid of my coffin. But a sudden thought flashed through my mind. I knocked on the wall. The strokes of the hammer ceased.

"Brother! Hello, brother!" "What do ye want?" asked a gruff voice.

"Where is the soldier that is watching you?"

"He went away for a minute. He is

n't afraid of us; we sha'n't run away. We have only three days more to serve."

My heart fairly leaped with joy. With one jump I was near the gate. I threw down my prisoner's coat. I removed the board from under the gate without making the slightest sound, and crawled through. I rose from the ground, and at that moment the soldier on guard, having come to the end of his beat, turned his face to me. I saw the carriage standing on the corner. I knew that I had to make just ten steps; but seconds seemed eternities to me, and the short distance between me and the carriage turned into interminable space. It seemed to me that I was not moving at all, but standing as if chained to the spot by the bewildered look of the guard. Suddenly a shot rang out, and the bullet whizzed over my head. But before the smoke had cleared away I was already in the carriage. Bullets were falling about us in a shower. I shot aimlessly into the air, to scare off our pur

suers.

Soon we were lost from the view of the pursuing soldiers in a thoroughfare of Irkutsk. A feeling of utter happiness, the happiness of freedom, filled my whole being. I inhaled the dusty air of the street, and it seemed to me to be permeated with the odor of roses and violets. I saw no more the prison walls, and the narrow thoroughfare appeared to me a limitless expanse. My carriage was going at a terrific speed, and carrying me farther and farther away from the prison. I was ready to die right then, being happy with the thought that I saw the streets and the people on them not through the gray walls of my prison, but face to face, a free being. My head was in a whirl. I saw as through a mist the faces of passers-by, and it seemed to me that they were smiling at me and celebrating with me my great victory over the walls of the dreary prison I had left.

Our carriage stopped in front of a sumptuous residence, which was shaded by a row of trees. I jumped out, and rang the bell. An old lackey opened the door. To my question, "Is So-and-so at home?" he replied that all had departed, and would not be back before evening. carriage was gone, and I knew that I could not lose a moment's time, because the soldiers who were pursuing me would

My

find me there. I did not know the city, and besides I could not appear in the streets in my attire without arousing suspicion. "I must enter this house," I thought, "otherwise I am lost." I looked at the lifeless face of the old lackey who stood before me at the door and kept on repeating that nobody was at home.

"Listen," I began in a feminine voice, "I must get in here; I cannot go away from this house in this attire. And you must help me."

I stepped into the hall, closed the door, and took his hands. "We must hurry, because the police and the soldiers may come here at any minute."

The old lackey stared at me in utter bewilderment and did not say a word. I thought that he had lost his power of speech from fright. He led me through. the rooms, opened the bureaus and closets, and burned my masculine garb. Suddenly the door-bell rang. I understood that the police must have come after me.

"Dear, good man," I said to the lackey, "you must take me out by the back door, and not say a word about what has taken place here, otherwise it will be all over with you."

I ran in the direction he pointed without breaking his silence.

Here I was in the street, walking with none too firm steps, and trying to remember the plan of the city. After about an hour's search I found a house the address of which I had with me. I was admitted by a man of thirty or thirty-five. I told him my name. He grasped my hands, squeezed them hard, and kept repeating like a madman:

"Oh, what a miracle! what a miracle! In the middle of the day, before the very eyes of all the guards!"

I had never seen this man, but his voice was firm, and I was beginning to hope that he would help me.

It was twelve o'clock then, only two hours having passed from the moment of my escape. Mr. N locked me in his cabinet, and went out to see what was going on in the street. Only then I clearly saw what a problem I had before me. When I was in prison my only thought was how to get out of it. I could not bring myself to think of the difficulties which would confront me when once out of it and at liberty. "How shall I hide? Where shall I go?" were questions

"I think," he said, "that it is best for you to leave this house. The house in which you have just been hiding is surrounded by the police, and we cannot depend upon the lackey. He may tell everything. I have a very good plan, but the road over which we shall have to go leads past the prison. Can you make up your mind to pass there?"

"And you," I asked-"do you know what awaits you if you should be arrested with me?"

the revolution, but I also knew that he had never taken an active part in it, and, besides, he had a wife and two children.

"Don't think of that," he answered. "All right; we will go," I replied.

I dressed all in white, and put on a blond wig. The day was fine, and the sun again smiled to me. We neared the prison, and I could see the hospital, and the cot on which I had lain eight months. There was the operating-table. I recalled the faces of the doctors, who were the only people dear to me-dear because they were from the outside world, were free

men.

Even the prison guards then looked at me with a soft expression in their eyes, because they were sure that I would not survive the operation. I recalled the hardlabor prison where I had spent six years, six terrible years. My friends were still there in that living grave, and I swore by all that was sacred to me that I would not forget them, and would devote my life to them. The carriage passed the prison, and in a minute left it far behind; but I could not free myself from the thought of that prison. I felt that all that I had lived through in those six years had tied me to that place where thousands of lives were chained. I was free, but it was only an external freedom, for I never could free myself from the thought of those people who were left within those dark walls.

We arrived at the house. It stood on the outskirts of the city, and was surrounded by a large park. The family that