eople or what is their staring to me?" asked the Count,
quietly. "I am not afraid of being taken for a servant or a porter,
because I carry a lady's parcel. Pray give me the basket."

"Oh no, pray let it be," cried Vjera, in great earnest. "I cannot bear to
see you with such a thing in your hand."

They were still standing before the picture-dealer's window, while many
people passed along the pavement. In trying to draw away, Vjera found
herself suddenly in the stream, and just then a broad-shouldered officer
who chanced to be looking the other way came into collision with her, so
roughly that she was forced almost into the Count's arms. The latter made
a step forward.

"Is it your habit to jostle ladies in that way?" he asked in a sharp tone,
addressing the stout lieutenant.

The latter muttered something which might be taken for an apology and
passed on, having no intention of being drawn into a street quarrel with
an odd-looking individual who, from his accent, was evidently a foreigner.
The Count's eyes darted an angry glance after the offender, and then he
looked again at Vjera. In the little accident he had got possession of the
basket. Thereupon he passed it to his left hand and offered Vjera his
right arm.

"Did the insolent fellow hurt you?" he asked anxiously, in Polish.

"Oh no--only give me my basket!" Vjera's face was painfully flushed.

"No, my dear child," said the Count, gravely. "You will not deny me the
pleasure of accompanying you and of carrying your burden. Afterwards, if
you will, we can take a little walk together, before I see you to your
home."

"You are always so kind to me," answered the girl, bending her head, as
though to hide her burning cheeks, but submitting at last to his will.

For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then Vjera showed by a gesture
that she wished to cross the street, on the other side of which was
situated one of the principal hotels of the city. In front of the entrance
Vjera put out her hand entreatingly towards her basket, but the Count took
no notice of the attempt and resolutely ascended the steps of the porch by
her side. Behind the swinging glass door stood the huge porter amply
endowed with that military appearance so characteristic of all men in
Germany who wear anything of the nature of an official costume.

"The lady has a package for some one here," said the Count, holding out
the basket.

"For the head waiter," said Vjera, timidly.

The po