occupied it was of very noble descent and immensely rich. With the revolutionary movement they had no connection whatever, but the mother of the family was a highly intelligent and progressive woman, and always regarded with extreme disapproval the treatment which the Government accorded its political prisoners. My identity was to be kept secret from all the members of the family except the lady of the house, who alone knew who I was. I was to be hired as a chambermaid, and thus allay all suspicion and avoid any possible questions. I hoped that the rôle of a chambermaid would render it possible for me to remain in that house for a time. I put on a servant's dress, and assumed the duties of my position.

The sun sank below the horizon, and it grew dark. The skies were wrapped in the mysterious covers of night. Stars began to twinkle here and there. I stood absorbed in the sight of the approaching night. Six years I had not been under the open sky in the evening; but there was no joy in my heart, only fear. I was afraid to move. Something unknown was in the darkness of the night, and it threatened me on all sides. Suddenly soft arms embraced me, and some one began to kiss me. I felt hot tears falling on my hands. It was the lady of the house. This woman, a total stranger to me, tried to comfort me like my own mother, and relieve the burning anguish of my heart.

At eight o'clock in the evening the whole family and a number of guests, most of whom were high government officials, went into the dining-room and took their seats. I brought the soup. The son of my hostess, a student at St. Petersburg University, who was home on his vacation, was reading an evening newspaper. When I handed him his plate, he looked at me and exclaimed:

I, without showing the least concern, continued to serve the soup, which the hostess passed to me with trembling hands. Her eyes looked at me with maternal tenderness, but she was helpless to defend me. I was recognized. Nobody asked me any questions, but a dead silence reigned in the room during the whole dinner. At last the torture ended, and I, thoroughly exhausted, went to my room.

It was twelve o'clock, and the guests had departed. I was sitting in my room with my hostess and awaiting the return of her son, who had gone to town to look for a place for me to hide. He came, and brought terrible news; the neighboring house was surrounded by the police, who had a bloodhound with them. He had found a room, but if we should leave the house right then, we would surely be stopped by the police. It was necessary to act quickly, for I did not want those good, innocent people to suffer with me. I decided to leave the house. It was one o'clock at night. I dressed myself in black, and wanted to go to a near-by wood, which was at a distance of about two miles from Irkutsk. It could be reached by walking over a field, thus avoiding the streets.

"But, Mama," said the student, "can a man, no matter what his political opinions are, turn a woman out into the street at night? I cannot do that. I will go with her."

It was futile to argue with this man the risk he took in accompanying me, for he was firm in his determination to share my fate with me. We started out, walked a great distance over fields, and entered the city from the opposite side. I was so exhausted that I could not walk any more, and he carried me in his arms into a house where we were expected. Two days I lay in a semiconscious condition. I remember only one thing: whenever I opened my eyes, I saw the face of a student. I tried to recall who he was, but in vain. His face would grow bigger and bigger, and resolve itself into many faces of the prison doctors and guards, and I would again fall into a stupor. The people at that house did not know who I was; they only knew that I had to be in hiding. They were plain townspeople, greedy for money, and, knowing that the man who brought me to their house was of a rich

family, expected to get a large sum for keeping me.

On the third day I felt much better, and got out of bed. My hosts were still ignorant of my identity. I was beginning to hope that all had quieted down; but at noon my aristocratic friend came to see

me.

She was greatly excited. She told me that the city was in a state of terror; that the police had searched all the houses in some streets, and had arrested absolutely innocent people; that the authorities had released a number of criminals who knew my face-some of them had yet to serve eight months of their sentencesand sent them all over town to look for me; that the Government had announced a large reward for my capture, and even the prison administration offered a thousand rubles for any information that would lead to my arrest. She was not sure that she was not being shadowed by the secret police, and therefore thought that the best thing for her to do was to leave town for some time. She gave me money, and bade me good-by with tears in her eyes.

On the fourth day of my stay with those people I noticed that they looked worried. They began to suspect that I was the woman about whom the newspapers printed all sorts of sensational stories. Those miserable newspapers almost led to my being discovered again. Without saying anything to me, my landlord, in the simplicity of his heart, solved the matter in a very simple and rather unexpected way. He invented a fictitious name, and, having entered it in his house-book as that of his boarder, went to the police station to register me. By this means he hoped to avert all suspicion from himself. I was sitting in my room, and did not suspect anything. Suddenly my landlady rushed in, and told me in very excited tones what her husband had done. My first impulse was to flee. But where? There was no time to deliberate, because I did not at all know what sort of man my landlord was, and the landlady was in such great trepidation that she could not be depended upon. I dressed myself, and was going down the stairs when I met the landlord. "Where are you going?" he asked in a calm voice.

"Well, did you register me?" I inquired.

"No; there was n't anybody in the station. It is a holiday."

That was great luck. I went back into my room; but scarcely half an hour had passed when the door-bell rang, and my landlady, as pale as a ghost, ran in to me shouting: "Police! police! Flee!" I ran to the kitchen and into the back yard and hid in the building where fire-wood was kept. I stood breathless in a corner, with my revolver ready in my hand. A feeling of shame and humiliation filled my heart in that filthy place. A voice within me whispered: "Ah, you wanted freedom, you wanted to escape from life imprisonment; but have you the strength to do it? Why don't you shoot yourself?" my long-formed resolution to die rather than fall into the hands of the gendarmes came to me. I nervously clutched the pistol in my hand and opened the triggerguard. Many times during my revolutionary life have I experienced the proximity of death, and every time, at those moments, pictures of my whole life flashed through my mind like lightning. And what I can't understand is, that those pictures always looked so attractive and so cheerful. There was no trace of sufferings and persecution, no memory of the terrible years of my imprisonment.

And

The door of the building opened, and my landlord's aged mother entered.

"The gorodovoi [policeman] is gone, thank the Lord! He came to find out what my son wanted in the police station, and we did n't tell him anything about you."

It was plain to me that I could not remain any longer with these people; they could betray my presence in their house through sheer stupidity and fear. But where was I to go?

In an apartment at the same house several men were playing cards at that time. My landlord, in the excitement caused by the visit of the policemen, told those people that, to his mind, the woman who had escaped from prison was hiding in his house. His story excited the curiosity of the company, and they came down to have a look at me. One of them, a man of about forty, expressed his willingness to help me.

"Don't worry,' ," he said; “I am an honest man, although I lead a disreputable life. Nobody will ever suspect that you

are hiding in my home. I live with my boy, and often bring women to my house.'

I told this man frankly what awaited him if I was arrested in his house; but he insisted that there was no danger. When it grew dark, I went with this man, who was a total stranger to me. We climbed up several flights of filthy, slippery, and badly lighted stairs, and knocked. The door was opened by a boy of about fifteen who had a very pleasant face.

"Make yourself at home," said my host. "You see, the rooms here have not been cleaned these last four months. There was a woman here last week, but she only brought more filth."

He slept with his boy in one room, and gave me his bedroom, in which the whole furniture consisted of a broken couch. In the morning he told me to be quiet, so that my footsteps should not be heard by the tenants of the apartment below. I could stay there three or four days, and no one would know that there was a woman in the house. He went away, having locked the door of my room from the outside, and I was left alone. In the evening he came back drunk, but he talked sensibly, and did not forget his rôle. He began to tell me about himself:

"I am a civil engineer and a good mechanic, and have 'golden hands,' but one must bow one's head and obey superiors, and I just can't do that. It is already a year since I have been out of a job. I have sold everything there was in the house. The rent has not been paid, and my boy wears tatters and cannot go to school. I have two more children in the village, and the old woman who boards them threatens to send them back because I have long stopped paying their boardbill."

While telling me his story, he kept on drinking, now beer, now vodka from a large glass, and at about twelve o'clock became violent, and began to hit the boy. He ordered him to say some nonsensical words, and when the boy hesitated, he beat him mercilessly. I was in agony, and tried to shield the unfortunate child with my own body. Suddenly the thought of the drunken man turned on me.

"Do you see," he cried to his son, "this woman is a saint; she is not like those you have seen here before. And if you will ever think of betraying her, you will an

swer me with your own head." And he made the boy swear to something.

At two o'clock I succeeded in putting him to sleep. I lay awake the whole night. On the following morning he apologized to me, and in the evening the same story was repeated. I knew I had to leave that house, that I could not remain under such conditions; but I knew of no place where I could go.

On the third day my host went away and locked me in as usual. At twelve o'clock I got up from the couch, intending to make some tea. I moved about the room with great caution, as I was afraid the neighbors might hear there was somebody in the locked apartment. On the floor near the window, over which a curtain hung, stood a spirit-lamp and a bottle of alcohol. While striking a match, I overturned the bottle with my elbow, and the alcohol momentarily flamed up. I hardly had time to jump aside. The curtain caught fire, and the red flames could be seen from the street. The room filled with smoke, and the door of my room was locked. For a moment it seemed to me that my end was near; for I thought that if people came before I was burned to death, I should be recognized, and in that case I was going to die by my own hand. But suddenly remembering, I began to throw on the fire everything I could get in my room, and by a supreme effort I managed to extinguish the flames. My fear that the people down-stairs may have heard the noise of my struggle was great, and I waited in extreme suspense. At last the boy came, and I decided to send him with a message to my friends. The idea to enlist his services had long occurred to me; but it was a terrible risk to intrust my life into the hands of a child. Besides, it was imperative that I should leave the house without his father knowing my destination, as I felt I could no more rely upon the drunkard. But before I had time to despatch the boy, his father came. He was so drunk that he could scarcely stand on his feet. He did not even notice the traces of the fire. He went to the window, opened it, and began to shout to the people in the street, accompanying his words with most dreadful oaths: "I know who you are. You are spies-spies, all of you."

I dragged him away from the window.

Then he sat down close to me, and I felt his hot breath on my cheek. His eyes were bloodshot. I saw that the man was quite out of his senses. I got up, he seized my hands, and began to kiss them. I tried to free myself, and there began a struggle with a drunken man. I was not afraid. I knew that I had only to free one hand for a second, and pick up my revolver, which lay right near under the couch. The noise of the scuffle was heard in the other room, and the boy ran in. His sudden appearance surprised the drunkard, who released his hold upon me and began to beat the boy. It was a horrible spectacle, and all my efforts to tear the boy away from his father's grasp were in vain. At last, exhausted by his exertion, the drunkard fell to the floor and was soon asleep, to the great relief of myself and the poor boy. I did not sleep the whole night, and at sunrise I awakened the boy. He looked at me with an expression of childish pride in his eyes.

He understood the serious

ness of the mission he was to take upon himself. Before departing on his errand, he looked at his sleeping father, and with downcast eyes asked me, "Are you not afraid to remain here alone?"

After a few hours of anxious waiting I received word that an officer would come to fetch me. Soon a colonel of the Russian army arrived. I thought it was one of my friends dressed up like an officer, but he turned out to be a real colonel, of the local garrison.

"You see," he tried to explain, noticing my look of astonishment, "I do not agree with your ideas, but as a man I highly value heroism in people, particularly in women. I am an army officer, and I was in the Japanese War. I saw and took part in most bloody battles. But we are men and soldiers, and you!"

I considered it unnecessary to argue with him that I did not at all think my act was heroic.

"Your bold escape has excited my warmest admiration," he continued, "and I, as an officer, appreciate it, and wish to help you slip out of this city. I and my comrades found out by chance where you were, and we will all be awfully glad to meet you. You know the police are searching for you very energetically and bending every effort to find you. They even imported the famous bloodhound 'Rex'

from Kieff. In general, there are all sorts of interesting rumors about you in town. They say that on the first day of your escape you were hiding in the governor-general's house."

He spoke with great enthusiasm, evidently forgetting what awaited him in case I was found in his company. I went with him, and after several minutes' walk was at his house. He lived with his manservant, a soldier of his regiment, who managed all his household affairs. A little later three more officers of his regiment came. Among them I felt like a prisoner; their epaulets, sabers, and clicking spurs reminded me of the gendarmes and the prison officials in whose power I had been for so many years. They joked, laughed, and their manner was free and careless. But I was grieved at the thought that perhaps on the morrow these servants of the czar would blindly obey the command of some half-witted general and shoot down innocent people. It was hard to reconcile what they were doing in my case with their every-day mission. But they were far from having any principles. To them I was only a young woman who was being persecuted, and they did not associate the fact that they were hiding. me, a political offender for whose head a large reward had been offered by the Government, with the general conditions of life in Russia. At twelve o'clock at night all went away, leaving the house to me.

I spent six uncomfortable days in the society of these officers, stopping now with one, now with another. It was not safe to remain longer with them, because each had a servant, a soldier. These soldiers apparently obeyed their masters, but in reality they did as they pleased. Despite the strict orders not to speak to anybody about the "lady from Vienna" who was stopping at their houses, despite their everready reply, "Yes, sir," they were not to be trusted; the temptation to share the interesting news with their fellow-soldiers was too great. So the colonel arranged with some musicians from St. Petersburg to give me shelter for two days.

The risk of hiding in Irkutsk was becoming greater and greater. The police and gendarmes kept up the search untiringly, The railway-station was watched by dozens of spies. According to rumors, people who knew my face were sent to the

It

Manchurian and Chinese borders. was necessary to leave the city, but it was impossible to find a free exit.

On the second day of my stay with the musicians the colonel came to see me.

"Did you hear?" said he. "They say that you have already gone to Switzerland."

He related to me that after I had left his house he had paid a visit to the colonel of gendarmes on the pretext of some fictitious case, and had started a conversation about me.

"How do you explain the fact," he asked the colonel of gendarmes, "that Miss Sukloff has not been apprehended?"

"For a very simple reason," replied the colonel of gendarmes. "She is long in Switzerland, and we expect to receive a report about her from our agents abroad.”

Thus the time was ripe for me to leave the city. The colonel found a room for me with an old woman, to whom I was

introduced as a university student. At last, by the tenth of September, everything was ready for my departure. Money was collected, a man was found who undertook to accompany me to Manchuria and China, and passports in the name of a "Sister of Mercy" were procured.

I was to go on the eight o'clock train. I dressed like a "Sister of Mercy," dyed my black hair a golden brown, and from a slim young girl was converted into a stout, middle-aged woman. I arrived at the station a few seconds before the train started, and went straight to my car without looking at the people. The few seconds seemed eternities to me. At last the signal to start was given, and the train rolled past the platform, past the gendarmes and spies who scanned the faces in the car windows, and was soon in the open field. With a sigh of relief I sat down at a window and looked in the direction of the city, which I would see no more.

is going

ence, pianists, statesmen, or actors; for

prince to discover Cinderella and conduct her from the ash-heap to the throne, for many of my readers are unwarrantably spending their lives in sackcloth and Cinderellan ashes, tortured by regret because God did not make masters of them.

One of them is sad because he is not a master of poetry. He never sees Xhis golden-tongued friend, without a pang ⚫ very like the envy of a childless man for a happy father. But he has no suspicion that he is partly responsible for the other's poetic excellence. Another considers her life wrecked because the Master of all good workmen did not make her a sculptor. Yet all the while she is lavishing unawares upon her brother or son or husband the very stuff that art is made of. Others are inconsolable because no fairywand at their birth destined them for men of original action, for discoverers in sci

tects of temples or religions.

I wish to comfort some of these comfortless ones by revealing how and why they are masters of an art as indispensable as the arts which they regard wistfully. I mean the art of master-making.

This revelation, however, is made only on conditions. The reader will please understand that the secret of his unsuspected power is here disclosed to him only on condition that his first conscious use of this power shall be directed toward making a master of the discloser. If he should succeed in bringing off this miracle, I promise in return to sing his adequate praises. This will be an original action. It has never been done since the particular amoeba which was destined for manhood had a purse made up for him and was helped on to the train of evolution by his less fortunate friends.