artin paused to
satisfy himself that he was not followed, and then came towards her,
but Netty could see that he did not intend to stop and speak. He did not
even bow as he approached, but passing close by her he dropped a folded
note at her feet, and walked on without looking round.

There were others passing now in either direction, but Netty seemed to
know exactly how to act. She sat with her foot on the note until they
had gone. Then she stooped and picked up the paper. The precautions were
unnecessary, it seemed, for no one was even looking in her direction.

"I must not speak to you," Martin wrote, "for there is danger in it--not
to me, but to yourself. That of which you will not let me tell you is
for to-night. Whatever you hear or see, do not leave your rooms at the
Europe. I have already provided for your safety. There is great news,
but no one knows it yet. Whatever happens, I shall always be thinking
of you, and--no! I must not say that. But to-morrow I may be able to say
it--who knows! I shall walk to the end of the garden and back again; but
I must not even bow to you. If you go away before I pass again, leave
something on the seat that I may keep until I see you again--your glove
or a flower, to be my talisman."

Netty smiled as she read the letter, and glanced at Martin down the
length of the broad walk, with the tolerant softness still in her eyes.
She rather liked his old-fashioned chivalry, which is certainly no
longer current to-day, and would, perhaps, be out of place between
two young persons united fondly by a common sport or a common taste in
covert-coating.

Martin was at the far end of the gardens now, and in a minute would turn
and come towards her again. She had not long in which to think and to
make up her mind. She had, as Martin wrote, prevented him from telling
her of those political matters in which he was engaged. But she knew
that events were about to take place which might restore the fortunes of
the Bukatys. Should these fortunes be restored she knew that the prince
would be the first man in Poland. He might even be a king. For the crown
had gone by ballot in the days when Poland was a monarchy.

Netty had some violets pinned in the front of her jacket. She
thoughtfully removed them, and sat looking straight in front of
her--absorbed in maiden calculations. If Prince Bukaty should be first
in Poland, Prince Martin must assuredly be second. She laid the violets
on the stone se