coughs and almost falls from weakness, especially when, according to the rules of the dance, he must stand on one foot; but he is studying diligently! He is dressed rather richly, but his bright-colored vest and necktie spoil the elegance of his appearance. Near Naum, the dancing-master, with a fiddle and how, is hustling about, balancing himself, rising up and down. He is a man of unusual refinement and grace; he wears a white vest, patent-leather slippers, and a smoking jacket. And Anathema, standing at the veranda door, looks upon all this with an air of sadness and reproach.

DANCING-MASTER.

One—two—three; one—two—three.

SARAH.

Look, David, see how successful our Naum is in his dancing. I could not hop like that for anything? poor boy!

DAVID.

I see.

DANCING-MASTER.