a handsome clock
set with jewels. In the back part of the room an easy sofa covered
with cornflower blue velvet invited one to rest. On a centre-table
covered with a handsome Persian rug was a massive silver candelabrum
in the form of a siren who held up a wax candle in each hand. In front
of the fireplace stood Madame Beldi's children; the older, Sophie, a
maiden of thirteen years, tall, delicately built, with shy glance,
appeared to be arranging the fire. She still wore her hair in childish
fashion in two long, heavy braids reaching almost to her heels. This
girl afterward became the wife of Paul Wesselenyi.

The second child, a little girl of four, knelt before her older sister
and scattered light sticks on the fire. Her name was Aranka, the
Hungarian for gold-child; her hair was in golden curls falling over
her little shoulders; her features were animated and her eyes as well
as her hands in constant motion, interfering with her sister in one
way or another; she laughed innocently when the older girl at last
became angry.

The two children rose when they heard steps and voices at the door. As
soon as the older girl caught sight of the strangers she tried to
smooth out her dress, while Aranka rushed noisily to her mother, and
catching her by the dress looked up at her with a smile on her little
round face. Katharine embraced the older girl who timidly offered her
forehead to be kissed.

"And your cousin, little Feriz, you must kiss him, too," said Madame
Beldi, and brought the two reluctant children together, who hardly
dared touch each other's lips. Sophie turned red to her very ears, ran
out of the room and could not be persuaded to come back that evening.

"Oh, you bashful Mimosa," said Madame Beldi, with a laugh. "Aranka is
braver than you are, I am sure. You are not afraid to kiss Cousin
Feriz, are you, darling?"

The child looked up at Feriz and drew back, clinging to her mother's
gown, with her large, dark blue eyes fixed on Feriz. Feriz Bey on his
side knelt down, embraced the child and imprinted a hearty kiss on her
round, red cheeks. Now that this first step had been taken the
acquaintance was made for Aranka. She bade her Turkish cousin sit down
beside the fireplace, and leaning against him she began to question
him about everything she saw on him, from the sword hilt to the
feathers on his turban; nothing escaped her.

"Let us leave the children to play," said Madame Beldi, and led her
friend out