helowitz and have him let out, and he
will be none the worse."

"I am afraid he will be--very much the worse," said Vjera. "It is
Wednesday to-morrow, and if he wakes up there--oh, I do not dare think of
it. It will make him quite, quite mad. Can we do nothing more? Nothing?"

"I think we have done our best to wake up this quarter of the town, and
yet Fischelowitz is still asleep. No one else can be of any use to
us--therefore--" he stopped, for his conclusion seemed self-evident.

"I suppose so," said Vjera, regretfully. "Let us go, then."

She turned and with her noiseless step began to walk slowly away, Schmidt
keeping close by her side. For some minutes neither spoke. The streets
were deserted, dry and still.

"Do you think there is any truth at the bottom of the Count's story?"
asked the Cossack at last.

"I do not know," Vjera answered, shaking her head. "I do not know what to
think," she continued after a little pause. "He tells us all the same
thing, he speaks of his letters, but he never shows them to anyone. I am
afraid--" she sighed and stopped speaking.

"I will tell you this much," said her companion. "That man is honest to
the backbone, honest as the good daylight on the hills, where there are no
houses to darken it and make shadows."

"He is an angel of goodness and kindness," said Vjera softly.

"I know he is. Is he not always helping others when he is starving
himself? Now what I say is this. No man who is as good and as honest as he
is, can have become so mad about a mere piece of fancy--about an invented
lie, to be plain. What there is in his story I do not know, but I am sure
that there was truth in it once. It may have been a long time ago, but
there was a time once, when he had some reason to expect the money and the
titles he talks of every Tuesday evening."

"Do you really think that?" asked Vjera, eagerly. Her own understanding
had never gone so far in its deduction.

"I am sure of it. I know nothing about mad people, but I am sure that no
honest man ever invented a story out of nothing and then became crazy
because it did not turn out true."

"But you, who have travelled so much, Herr Schmidt, have you ever heard
the name before--have you ever heard of such a family?"

"I have a bad memory for names, but I believe I have. I cannot be sure. It
makes no difference. It is a good Russian name, in any case, and a
gentleman's name, I should think. Of course I only mean that I--that you