common officers, the hundred obscure civil servants who wear a sword
and uniform unworthily in any one of the three European empires. On the
other hand, the men in real authority, and notably the officers of
the better regiments, sought to conciliate by politeness and a careful
retention of themselves in the background. But these well-intentioned
efforts were of small avail; for racial things are stronger than human
endeavor or the careful foresight of statesmen. Here in Warsaw the
Muscovite, the Pole, the Jew--herding together in the same streets,
under the same roof, obedient to one law, acknowledging one
sovereign--were watching each other, hating each other.

At the street corners the smart, quiet police took note of each
foot-passenger, every carriage, every stranger passing in a hired
droschki. Cartoner and Deulin could see from the passing glance beneath
the flat, green cap that they were seen and recognized at every turn.
On the steps of the station they were watched with a polite pretense
of looking the other way by two of the higher officials of the
Russian-speaking police.

"I do not mind them," said Deulin, passing through the doorway to the
booking-office. "It is not of them that we need be afraid. We are doing
no harm, and they cannot send us out of the country while our passports
hold out. They have satisfied themselves as to that. For they have been
through my belongings twice, in my rooms at the Europe--I know when my
things have been touched--they or some one else. Perhaps Kosmaroff; who
knows?"

Thus he talked on in characteristic fashion, saying a hundred nothings
as only Frenchmen and women can, touching life lightly like a skilled
musician, running nimble fingers over the keys, and striking a chord
half by accident here and there which was sonorous and had a deeper
meaning. He ordered the luncheon, argued with the waiter, and rallied
him on the criminal paucity of his menu.

"Yes," he said, "let it be beef. I know your mutton. It tastes like the
smell of goat. So give us beef--your railway beef, which has travelled
so far, but not by train. It has come on foot, to be killed and cut up
by a locomotive, to be served by a waiter who has assuredly failed as a
stoker."

He sat down as he spoke, and rearranged the small table, covered by
a doubtful cloth, through which could be felt the chill of the marble
underneath. Deulin always took the lead in these small matters, and
Cartoner accepted his de