Henry Greville is a new author, who has reached by no means the highest, yet a very respectable, place—­such as would be a source of gratification to most people.  The name signed to her novels is the nom-de-plume of a lady who, as is also apparent from her work, has lived long enough in Russia to become familiar with the people and their ways. Les Koumiassine is a story of Russian life, treating of a rich family whose name gives the title to the novel.  The family is one of great wealth, and consists of the Count Koumiassine and his wife, their two children—­one a boy of nine or ten, the other a girl half a dozen years older—­and a niece of about seventeen.  The plot concerns itself with the efforts of the countess to give her niece, whom she values much less than her daughter, a suitable husband.  The poor girl is bullied and badgered after the most approved methods of domestic tyranny, and her high-spirited struggle against adverse circumstances makes the book as readable as one could wish.  After all, the family is a microcosm, and furnishes frequent opportunity for the practice of good or bad qualities; and the cleverest novel-writers have chosen just this subject which seems so bald to the romantic writer.  The contest in this case is a long one, and is hotly contested, and the imperiousness of the countess and the graceful courage of the girl are excellently well described.  The other characters too are clearly put before the reader, so that those who exercise care in their choice of French novels may take up this one with the certainty that they will be entertained, and, what is rarer, innocently entertained.  For in a large pile of French novels it would be hard to find so pretty a story so well told as is the intimacy between the two young girls, the cousins, who in their different ways circumvent Fate in the person of the countess.  Their amiability and jollity and loyalty to each other give the book an air of attractive truthfulness and refinement which well replaces the priggishness generally to be found in innocuous French fiction.  More than this, the plot is intelligently handled, and no person is introduced who is not carefully studied.  In this respect of careful execution the author resembles Tourgueneff, whose friend and disciple she is.  Like him, and like those who have been affected by his influence, she gives attention to the minor characters and comparatively insignificant incidents, so that the book makes a really lifelike impression.  This is not a story of great passion, but it deals very cleverly with the less open waters of domestic strife.  While what it shows of human nature in general is the most important thing, what is shown of Russian life is of great interest.  The position of the countess, and the habit of her mind with its over-bearing self-will and ingenious self-approval, are studies possible, of course, anywhere, but pretty sure to be found especially in a land like Russia, where the habit of command was until recently so strongly fostered by the existence of serfdom.  The condition of those who are exposed to this aggressive imperiousness is clearly illustrated in the numerous dependants who make their appearance in this story.  But it is the countess who is the best drawn and most impressive personage.  She is really lifelike, and yet not a commonplace figure.