s
disappearance, and now a secretary who had been in Athens had arrived,
ostensibly on a visit to the ambassador. But Ananoff had Paul's
appointment to Teheran in his pocket, with the permission to take a
month's leave for procuring his outfit for Persia.

The explanation was inevitable. It was impossible that things should go
on any longer as they had proceeded during the last fortnight; and now
that there was really no hope whatever, and people were beginning to
talk as they had not talked before, the best thing to be done was to
send Paul away. Count Ananoff came to his rooms one morning, and found
him staring at the wall, his untasted breakfast on the table beside him,
his face very thin and drawn, looking altogether like a man in a severe
illness. The ambassador explained the reason of his visit, reminded him
of what had been said at their first interview, and entreated him to
spend his month's leave in regaining some of his former calmness.

"Go to the Crimea, or to Tiflis," he said. "You will not be far from
your way. I will write to Madame Patoff."

"You are kind,--too kind," answered Paul. "Thank you, but I will go to
my mother myself. I will be back in time," he added bitterly. "She will
not care to keep me, now that poor Alexander is gone. Yes, I know; you
need not tell me. There is no hope left. We shall not even find his body
now. But I must tell my mother. I have already written, for I thought it
better. I told her the story, just as it all happened. She has never
answered my letter. I fancy she must have had news from some one else,
or perhaps she is ill."

"Do not go," said his chief, looking sorrowfully at Paul's white face
and wasted, nervous hands. "You are not able to bear the strain of such
a meeting. I will write to her, and explain."

"No," answered Paul firmly. "I must go myself. There is no help for it.
May I leave to-day? I think there is a boat to Varna. As for my
strength, I am as strong as ever, though I am a little thinner than I
was."

The old diplomatist shook his head gravely, but he knew that it was of
no use to try and prevent Paul from undertaking the journey. After all,
if he could bear it, it was the most manly course. He had done his best,
had labored in the search as no one else could have labored, and if he
were strong enough he was entitled to tell his own tale.

The two men parted affectionately that day, and when Paul was fairly on
board the Varna boat Count Ananoff ow