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The annual prize for literature awarded in Paris by the Academic de Concours was this year won by a young Russian emigré, Troyat. An engineer by calling, this discovery is in private life M. Tarasoff, a humble clerk in the mun cipality of the Seine. He leit Rus: a boy of eight, and his memoria; of that country are confined to long, agonizing waits for trains thet arrived several days behind schedule during the Civil War that followed the Revolution, His parents, with whom Mr. Tarasoff lives, keep scrupulously to the Russian language in their conversation, but their son, who has graduated from a French college, is today known as a French writer. He can speak fluent Russian, but admits that he writes the language with difficulty and with French turns of speech, and prefers to think in French. At first Russian newspapers and magazines all united in praise of him, and wrote with glowing pride of the Russian emigré who wrote the best French novel of the year. His success was the success of every Russian emigré in France. And then, silence stole over their joy. The: paused to consider. Suddenly, the thought had come that although Russian emigration has authors and poets of the older generation, it has nobody under 30 years of age to take their place, and talent like that of Tarasoft is lost forever to Russian literature. And with that thought came sadness.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.