consented conditionally to the match. "When he sails his own boat," she had said; and that was to be in the following spring.

Marco had been sailing for two months now, but Annunziata's fear instead of growing less only increased. She concealed it from every one save me; and I, knowing the terror that was always in her heart, pitied her more and more as the summer went by.

Then came that terrible day in August. It had been fair and beautiful as all the days that had gone before, then like a flash came the storm. The sea changed from a mirror to a maelstrom. In an instant the shore was crowded. I found Annunziata standing close to the raging water; and, putting my arm around her, I drew her back. She looked at me without a sign of recognition, but she did not resist.

"The boats saw the storm coming," I said, "and have made for a safe harbor."

She shook her head and pointed across the water. I strained my eyes and there, outlined against the dark masses of clouds, were two fishing boats. Nearer they came, pitching and tossing on the black water. We could see now that they were Alessandro's and Stefano's boats. Then a cry arose from the watching people and I hid my face. When I dared look again I could see only one boat. Instantly a living chain was made, which reached far out into the water-the last man was up to his shoulders in the seething mass.

Alessandro, when they carried him in, was just able to speak. A mournful wail arose as he named two boats that had capsized when the gale first struck them. Of the other boat, still tossing about outside the line of breakers, he had little hope to give. Stefano had been washed overboard as they were running for the harbor, and Marco had injured his arm and was practically helpless.

I turned from the crowd standing about the rescued man, and looked out over the waters. The boat was still tossing and pitching from side to side. If it could only be brought inside the line of breaking waves, a life-line might be again. formed and Marco saved. But this seemed impossible. If Alessandro, with all his strength and knowledge of boats, barely succeeded in doing this-how could Marco-disabled, too-even attempt it?

I looked for Annunziata. She was standing, rigid as a statue, her arms stretched out as if to grasp the boat and draw it to safety.

"Can nothing be done? Can you stand here and see two human beings perish-almost within reach of your arms?" I cried aloud. "Surely there are men who will risk their lives to save a friend. Gregorio-you at least will do something?'

But the brawny fellow shook his head and muttered something that I did not catch. I repented of my words when his wife her baby deftly folded in a corner of her shawl-besought me with tears in her eyes not to allow him to risk his life.

"Ah, Signora! he could do nothing. It would only be another for the sea to devour."

All at once a clear, ringing voice was heard above the noises of the storm: "Courage! courage, Marco ! I am coming! Courage for a few minutes!"

I started. What did the figure flying up the beach, followed slowly by one or two men, mean to do? I heard a great clamor-voices raised in excited pleadings-then I saw men dragging a boat to the water's edge.

"It is madness-madness!" "Annunziata has gone mad!" "It cannot be done!" were the many cries. "It is too late. We could not reach them in time."

The women's shrill tones testing all the while-helped The first to step in was Annunziata. I started forwardthen drew back. Why not? She was strong and fearless, and well able to manage a boat. Two men stepped in after her; she had shamed them into bravery-or, perhaps, they lacked but a leader, I saw them cross themselves, a wave caught the little boat and it seemed to stand on end. I hid my face and prayed for the dead, as I thought.

rose like a wail. The men—prolaunch the boat.

A gentle hand touched my arm. I looked up, dreading what I was to see. It was Lucia, who had begged me not to let her husband go. "Courage, Signora ! "Courage, Signora!" she said, "See!

They are most there."

Slowly the two boats drew nearer each other. How it was done I cannot tell.

"Look, Signora!" called Lucia, "all is well. thrown the line. Heavens! he has missed it!

They have Ah! he has it

now; his arm broken-too! They are coming back. Signoralook! Only a little wave-see, they ride on top." All I could make out was a raging sea with huge waves threatening every instant to end a life that was dear to me-so that, for very fear, I had to hide my face.

"Ah! misericordia! Signora!" said Lucia, in a voice of despair; "it is all over. The boat has overturned-but-nono! they have them. Ah! how brave is my Gregorio!"

Again the waiting men formed a line headed by strong Gregorio, and Annunziata first, and then the three others, were carried in safety beyond the reach of the terrific sea.

The next day, when the sea was blue and laughing in the sunlight, I stopped to ask how Marco was. I found Annunziata looking pale but so happy that I envied her. It is not given to every woman to save from death the man she loves. I looked upon Annunziata with an awe that I had never felt before. Somehow her love had passed beyond the commonplace of every-day life, and had become exalted-glorified. When Maria Dolores came to greet me I saw that she also recognized that truth.

"Yes, Signora; Annunziata may marry Marco. The good God wills it, so I gave my consent. Marco goes back to the shoemaking. Annunziata insists."

October came and found me still in my holiday home. I had waited for Annunziata's wedding. It took place in the little church, that was gayly dressed with green boughs and stiff paper flowers. If the bride was beautiful and stately, and the bridegroom pale and small-I think no one noticed the discrepancy, for the perfect happiness shining in the eyes of both caused all else to be forgotten.

And if I chanced to glance at tall, splendid Alessandro standing by my side, I had only to look a bit further through the little window, where the sight of many crosses-grim in the glorious sunshine-made me think of that figure of despair-standing with arms outstretched to the pitiless sea-and thank God that such grief had been only for an hour.

Russia

Current Events.

For a few weeks things were comparatively quiet in Russia; it seemed as if the reformers had accepted the Tsar's concession of a Duma, with great reluctance, indeed, but with the hope and the fixed purpose to get the most out of it. The government was supposed to be elaborating the details and to be preparing for the election of the representatives. Assurances were given by Count Witte, to members of the Reform party, that the Tsar was sincerely desirous of meeting the wishes of the nation. He declared that the Tsar's strongest desire was to become a constitutional sovereign; that his ideal was a monarch who ruled over loyal and loving subjects without the terrible burden of responsibility imposed by an autocratic régime, and that the only reason why he hesitated to grant a constitution was because he was not convinced that the nation really desired one. The disorders in the Caucasus had been so far suppressed that there was no longer any news from that region.

The topic most discussed was the probable arrangement of an agreement with Great Britain, somewhat on the lines of the Anglo-French agreement. Writers who had hitherto been bitterly opposed to England, and who looked upon her as Russia's sworn foe, advocated the new rapprochement. It is asserted-with what truth we do not know-that the Emperor William had made a great effort to detach Russia from France, and had even proposed to Russia an agreement for the partition of the Austrian dominions. The Slavonic peoples were to become the share of Russia, while Germany was to become the possessor of the parts occupied by the races of Teutonic. blood. Hungary was to be made into an independent principality. These proposals, if they were ever made, were rejected by the Tsar; and the alliance with France is to be maintained as a fixed point of Russian policy.

In a Manifesto, published on the ratification of the Treaty with Japan, there appears for the first time the recognition of the defeat inflicted by Japan: "God has caused our Fatherland to suffer sore trials and blows of fate in a sanguinary against a brave and mighty enemy." The hope

war

for the future prosperity of Russia, the Tsar declares, is to be looked for from the blessing of God upon his own labors in conjunction with those of the men elected by the people.

But the comparative quiet which prevailed was only the calm before the storm. The distrust of the government was felt by too many for the nation at large to be willing to accept, even as an instalment, the proffered concessions. Even if confidence in the good faith of the officials had been feltwhich was far from being the case-it was soon seen that those concessions were altogether inadequate. The working classes of the town, and the poor of the villages, would have been without representatives in the projected Duma. Of peasant proprietors only two per cent could have become electors. Only independent householders, above twenty-five years of age, could have voted in the first stage. The election was to be in two or three stages; the members of the Duma were to be elected by delegates chosen by these few electors. And when elected, the Duma was merely a powerless law advising assembly. Out of its proposals the government could select and realize only those that suited it.

And so, while the moderate Reformers were willing to accept and make the best of it, grateful for the principle, as they were, of election being recognized in any degree so ever, the vast mass of the people who took an interest in political questions could not bring themselves to accept this course. They adopted a method of securing decent government hitherto unexampled in history. Theologians generally condemn revolution, but allow passive resistance to iniquitous measures; as a rule, however, it has been by revolution of one form or another that tyranny has been overturned. It was left to the Russian people to show how potent an arm the people themselves possess in the power of passive resistance without violence.

The movement began by the strike of railway operatives in Moscow; thence it spread to St. Petersburg; and gradually extended so widely that Russia was cut off from the rest of the world ambassadors had to depart in ships; the mails had to be entrusted to the good offices of neighboring states; the Tsar himself had to be dependent for intercourse with the rest of Europe upon the war vessels of the Kaiser.

The strikes soon spread to various other trades, and even lawyers and doctors struck; and soldiers and their officers