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«ЖІНОЧИЙ СВІТ» 23 O. WERNIWOLIA | FEAR no prison nor the tyrant. Those prison walls? They are our glory! They are no cause of dread to me! We're all imprisoned now, — not free, More awful ’tis in my own dwelling, We all drink from a cup that’s bitter, In homeland imprisoned to be. ‘Which is the:aamo — for you end но се hi iter б й I feel no shame to bear my ІеНоїв Who'er with conscience, hope is blessed For freedom of my land and race, i і But seating golden coh ці ‘ This goblet dare not put aside, GCE знаю He ae eer Until to dregs he drains the potion, ee: BCU RAGS: With it he firmly shall abide! O, they may torment us and tortu-e, Whoever a faith for good doth cherish Yet truth itself they can’t destroy; With no alarm the cup he’ll view, Let all oppressors keep on revelling, The draught will raise his hopes up skywards, In time they'll perish and their joy .. . His spirit fortify anew. ‘Trans. by John Yatchew. woman. Do you not now see this people left the gallery. On coming husband. wretched visage of misery, unhap- piness, and hunger to which I pre- viously called your attention, and which now moves your hearts with a greater feeling of pity and sor- row ?” “Ah, indeed yes,” spoke up the older woman. “I feel at ів moment ап inexpressible emotion in my heart, which brings tears to " and she brushed her eyes with her handkerchief “Oh, how wonderful,” cried the young lady, “at times I forget that it is but a painting and want to give that poor woman something which would aid her in her troubles. ... I wonder,” she added. “how much that picture costs.” ‘I do not know,” answered the man, “but it seems to me that is is worth at least 10,000 rubles (dol- lars).” “[ wonder if anyone will buy i “Why пої? A marvelous as this one can make any salon appear more elegant.” After admiring the painting to their heart's the three painting as desire, out they were accosted by а beg- garly woman who stetched out her thin hand toward them and said in a feeble voice. “Oh, kind people, I have had nothing to eat today ... 1 am so hungry, so sick ... take pity on an мон old woman ; relieve me ress 1 beg of you, in "я name!” ‘They paid no attention to her, even pretending that they had not seen her, and continued walking in а most dignified manner. Why should they pay any at- tention to her? Were there not many, many more like her whom they daily met on the city streets? But the old beggar-woman, perhaps because she was desperate other or for with hunger, some reason, persisted. She stopped the Dbeauti- older lady, and grasped hi ful hand as though to kiss it the lady, “how that woman “Oh!” cried wretched old frightened me! My heart is beating so!” And she tightly grasped the arm of her ‘The three quickened their pace. “How impertinent these beggars are becoming! It is getting more and more dangerous every day to walk оп the streets,” cried the young lady, much perturbed. ЧІ have called the attention of the magistrate to this several times through the newspaper, but they do not even dream of doing any- thing about it.” ‘{hey hastened on to the bazaar. it is a pity that the people had not glanced at the old woman more carefully... She was the same old beggarly woman whom the young artist had used as his model in painting that picture which brought him so much same old beggarly woman whose portrait these three had so fervently gazed upon — that same beggar in the flesh, in real life, а portrait of the truth without any illusion, the same un- happy woman who in the painting was “characterized as idealistic perfection.” The End
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