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 together and stepped apart with the earnestness and exactitude demanded of them by the power of the mechanical example given them by the sunburnt hand of the lame conductor beating out the time. And the spectators who looked on respectfully and the little peasant children who stood around never moved; they looked as if they all had been carved out of the same unbending material and coloured with the same colours of amber and red-lead.

"Don't you think the musicians play very well, Agnes?" asked Professor Roggenfeldt of his wife.

Agnes Rudolfovna sighed, as if she had been brought back from some sweet vision of the past:

"Yes, they play very well," said she, "especially if one remembers that they are only simple peasants."

"The peasants here have culture and so are very different from the Russian peasants," said her husband.

"Yes, indeed," said Agnes Rudolfovna.

"But I can't think why our friend, Doctor Horn, hasn't come. I feel quite