her dance,
and giving sharp, high cries. Then, suddenly, they stopped in the middle
of a measure, and held out their aprons for money. A window on the
ground floor opened and a very pretty woman leaned out. I have seen her
many times. She is Polish, the daughter of a concierge, and now the
mistress of a young Cossack, who is leaving shortly for the front. She
has heavy, pale-yellow hair, wound around her head in thick braids, and
she wears pearls, opaque like her skin. She beckoned the little girls
into her room. They went eagerly. Soon I heard them singing there.

When we were with Dr. ----, from the Red Cross hospital this afternoon,
a soldier came up to us and saluted. He was a miserable-looking
creature, in a uniform too big for him. His face was unshaven, his beard
gray and sparse, and his eyes red and blinking and full of pain. He
slouched away again in a moment, his eyes staring down at the sidewalk
under his feet.

"What did he want?" I asked.

"He wants brandy. He's leaving for the front to-morrow, and he asked me
to write out a doctor's prescription so he could get a little brandy.
Poor fellow. It was impossible, of course, but I'd have done it gladly.
He said he'd been wounded and discharged, and had to go back to the
front and leave his family, helpless, again. The second time must be so
much worse than the first. You know what it's like out there."

RUTH.

_September._

_Darlingest ones:--_

At last I have heard from the letter about the Jewish detention camp.
The English Consul came to our rooms yesterday afternoon and said he was
to act as interpreter for the head of the secret police. I was to be
ready to answer his questions about eight o'clock that night. He told me
to keep my temper and say as little as possible.

Shortly before eight the Consul and the chief came round together. We
all sat down. I was quite calm. So often I had created my own terror of
this moment that when it came I met it with relief. I even felt a sense
of superiority over the chief of the secret service. I don't know why,
I'm sure. Perhaps because I was no longer afraid of him. It was as
though I had stuck my head under a pump of ice-cold water. I felt very
clear-headed. I had a curious feeling that things were as they were and
nothing I could say could change them.

"Are you a Jew?" he asked me first.

"No."

"Is your mother or father Jewish?"