with lazy volubility; "Paul is one of our
oldest friends. We are neighbors in the country, you know. He has always
been in and out of our house like one of the family. My poor husband was
very fond of him."

"Is your husband dead, then?" asked Etta in a low voice, with a strange
haste.

"No; he is only in Siberia. You have perhaps heard of his
misfortune--Count Stepan Lanovitch."

Etta nodded her head with the deepest sympathy.

"I feel for you, countess," she said. "And yet you are so brave--and
mademoiselle," she said, turning to Catrina. "I hope we shall see more
of each other in Tver."

Catrina bowed jerkily and made no reply. Etta glanced at her sharply.
Perhaps she saw more than Catrina knew.

"I suppose," she said to the countess, with that inclusive manner which
spreads the conversation out, "that Paul and Mlle. de Lanovitch were
playmates?"

The reply lay with either of the ladies, but Catrina turned away.

"Yes," answered the countess; "but Catrina is only twenty-four--ten
years younger than Paul."

"Indeed!" with a faint, cutting surprise.

Indeed Etta looked younger than Catrina. On a l'age de son coeur, and if
the heart be worn it transmits its weariness to the face, where such
signs are ascribed to years. So the little stab was justified by
Catrina's appearance.

While the party assembled were thus exchanging social amenities, a past
master in such commerce joined them in the person of Claude de
Chauxville.

He smiled his mechanical, heartless smile upon them all, but when he
bowed over Etta's hand his face was grave. He expressed no surprise at
seeing Paul and Etta, though his manner betokened that emotion. There
was no sign of this meeting having been a prearranged matter, brought
about by himself through the easy and innocent instrumentality of the
countess.

"And you are going to Tver, no doubt?" he said almost at once to Etta.

"Yes," answered that lady, with a momentary hunted look in her eyes. It
is strange how an obscure geographical name may force its way into our
lives, never to be forgotten. Queen Mary of England struck a note of the
human octave when she protested that the word "Calais" was graven on her
heart. It seemed to Etta that "Tver" was written large wheresoever she
turned, for the conscience looks through a glass and sees whatever may
be written thereon overspreading every prospect.

"The prince," continued De Chauxville, turning to Paul, "is a great
sportsman, I a