from the blond beauty's eyes and a mocking smile from
the dandy rewarded this courteous forbearance. But the mocking smile
changed the next instant to a sudden expression of disquiet, if not of
actual fear. Manasseh Adorjan stood in the doorway, and Blanka noted a
swift interchange of glances between the young men, like the flashing
of two drawn swords.

"That place is already engaged, sir," said Manasseh, quietly.

Benjamin Vajdar's face flushed quickly, and then as suddenly paled. In
his eyes one could have read rage, hate, and fear, and his right hand
clutched the head of his cane convulsively, as if about to draw the
weapon therein concealed. But Manasseh still stood regarding him
fixedly, and the intruder yielded without a word. Taking up his satchel,
he left the compartment. The whole scene had occupied but a moment. What
was it that gave one of these men such power over the other, like that
of a lion-tamer over his charge?

Manasseh himself took the vacated seat, without offering it to the
advocate, and sat looking out of the window as long as Vajdar was in
sight. At length the train started, and as it soon entered on a stretch
of monotonous, waste territory, Blanka yielded to the drowsy lullaby of
the smoothly rolling wheels, and fell asleep. Once or twice she half
opened her eyes and was vaguely conscious that the young stranger
opposite her was drawing something in the sketch-book that lay open on
his knee. She pushed her veil still farther back from face and brow,
hardly aware what she was doing, and again fell asleep.

CHAPTER IV.

A BIT OF STRATEGY.

A sharp whistle from the locomotive awakened the sleepers.

"Where are we now?" asked Blanka.

"Near Bologna," answered the artist, who alone had remained awake; "and
there I have to leave the train, which continues on, via Imola, to
Ancona."

"You leave the train? But I thought you, too, were going to Rome," said
the princess, in surprise.

"So I am," was the reply, "but by another route. My luggage will go
through to Ancona, and thence by diligence to Rome, while I push on over
the Apennines to Pistoja and Florence. It is a harder road, but its
splendid views amply repay one for an occasional climb on foot by the
_vetturino's_ side; and then, too, I shall reach Rome one day ahead of
you, who go by way of Ancona."

Blanka listened with interest. "Couldn't we take that route also?" she
asked. "What do you say to it, Maria? We could quietly