y talking everything over quietly. It seems so long
ago--seven years--since they told me that Herman was to be your husband.
It was on the anniversary of the day----"

"Oh, Karl!" she protested, holding out her hands to silence him.

"The day we kissed each other," he went on, speaking so quietly that it
seemed almost a whisper. "We were almost children then. I was a poor
little chap, who gave drawing lessons to Herman and his sisters. You
were a little waif, fed cake and tea at the millionaire's table. There
we met, a beggar boy and a beggar girl, thrown together in a palace. We
looked at each other, and I think we understood."

Olga covered her burning face with her hands, and Karl went on:

"We kissed each other, quite innocently; just one kiss, the memory of
which has almost faded."

"Yes, Karl, faded," Olga cried eagerly. "We have grown up sensibly and
we never mentioned it."

Karl seemed not to hear her interruption. He went on:

"You became Herman's wife and went to live in a palace. I found you
there when I came back from Paris, still fond of you, but determined
never to tell you so, and when I met you again I, too, was somewhat
changed. Still, when our eyes met, Olga, it was with the same look of
the two poor, longing little beggars of the years ago. But we did not
kiss again."

"Why not?" Olga breathed.

"Your husband and I are the best of friends," Karl said. "Though we have
met hundreds of times, you and I, we have not mentioned it."

Olga turned to him gratefully and held out her hand to clasp his.

"You are a good, true friend, Karl."

"Are you satisfied now?" Karl asked her, smiling. "You are not afraid of
me, are you?"

"No; but there was something in my husband's voice that frightened me,"
Olga answered. "He knows what we were to each other, and when he was
leaving us here alone I think it made him feel uncomfortable. We aren't
in love any more, are we, Karl?"

"No, of course not."

"And it is sweet to think that we have not entirely forgotten old times,
isn't it?"

"Yes," he answered absently.

"And, of course, if we loved each other still you would not marry, would
you, Karl?"

"Of course not," he said shortly.

"Now you will get married and you will be very, very happy. And I, too,
shall be happy, because I want you to marry, and I myself have chosen a
sweet, clever girl for you."

"Exactly," Karl acquiesced dryly.

"And now let us think no more of it," Olga cried, her moo