to me. I was but a young fellow trying
to get a foothold in literature, who had never been out of his own
country, and who spoke no tongue but his own; he was a man of the
world, a traveller over the globe and speaking five languages.

"If you're not going out," he said, that same night, "come and have a
smoke with me." This in his heartiest manner, laying his hand on my
shoulder as he spoke. "You'll find me in my room. I've some books that
may interest you, and we can continue our talk by my coal-fire. Come
with me now."

We had had no special talk--none that I could remember. I recalled that
I had asked him an irrelevant question after the flash had vanished,
and that he had answered me in return--but no talk followed.

"I never invite any one up here," he began when we reached his room;
"the place is so small" Here he closed the door, drew up the only
armchair in the room and placed me in it--"but it is large enough for a
place to crawl into and sleep--much larger, I can tell you, than I have
had in many other parts of the world. I can write here, too, without
interruption. What else do we want, really?--To be warm, to be fed and
then to have some congenial spirits about us! I am quite happy, I
assure you, with all those dear, good people downstairs. They are so
kind, and they are so human, and they are all honest, each in his way,
which is always refreshing to me. Most people, you know, are not
honest." And he looked me over curiously.

I made no answer except to nod my assent. My eyes were wandering over
the room in the endeavor to find something to confirm my
suspicions--over the two trunks with their labels; over a desk
littered, piled, crammed with papers; over the mantel, on which was
spread a row of photographs, among them the portrait of a
distinguished-looking woman with a child resting in her lap, and next
to it that of a man in uniform.

"Yes--some of my friends across the sea." I had not asked him--he had
read my mind. "This one you did not see--I keep it behind the
others--three of them, like a little pair of steps--all I have left.
The oldest is named Olga, and that little one in the middle, with the
cap on her head--that is Pauline."

"Your children?"

"Yes."

"Where are they?"

"Oh, many thousand miles from here! But we won't talk about it. They
are well and happy. And this one"--here he took down the photograph of
the man in full uniform--"is the Grand Duke Vladimir. Yes, a
soldierly-lo