"The Little Demon" is a successful and almost imperceptible merging of comedy with tragedy. It is in fact a tragedy in which the comic forms an integral part and is not sandwiched in superficially merely to please the reader. The method resembles in a measure that of Gogol's "Dead Souls," with which "The Little Demon" was compared upon its first appearance in 1907.

It is a work of art—and it is a challenge; and this challenge is addressed not to Russia alone, but to the whole world.

"What a sad place Russia is!" exclaimed Pushkin when Gogol read his story to him. But what the world knows to-day is that Gogol gave us a portrait of the human soul, and that only the frame was Russian. Prince Kropotkin assures us that there are Chichikovs in England, and Professor Phelps of Yale is equally emphatic about their presence in America.

And this is also true of Peredonov, of "The Little Demon."

In spite of its "local colour" and its portrayal of small town life in Russia, this novel has the world for its stage, and its chief actor, Peredonov, is a universal character. He is a Russian—an American—an Englishman. He is to be found everywhere, and in every station of life. Both translators agree that they have even met one or two Peredonovs at London literary teas—and not a few Volodins, for that matter.