maid's nostrils, while
her nerves were continually thrilled by strange contrasts of color. It
was very pleasant, she thought, to be really in the East, and to have
such a palpable proof of the fact as was afforded by the jargon of loud
but incomprehensible tongues which filled her ears. She had often been
in the place, and the Jews were beginning to know her, scenting a
bargain whenever her yellow face and yellow hair became visible on the
horizon. She generally patronized Marchetto, however, and on the present
occasion she had come expressly to see him. He was standing in the door
of his little shop as usual, and his red face and red-brown eyes lighted
up when he caught sight of Miss Dabstreak. With many expressions of joy
he backed into the interior, and immediately went in search of the
famous piece of Persian embroidery which Chrysophrasia had admired
during her last visit to the bazaar.

"Upon my honor"--began Marchetto, launching into praises of the stuff.
Patoff and Hermione stood at the door, but Cutter immediately became
interested in the bargain, and handled the embroideries with curiosity,
asking all manner of questions of the Jew and of Miss Dabstreak. Somehow
or other, the two younger members of the party soon found themselves
outside the shop, walking slowly up and down and talking, until the
bargain should be concluded.

"I could not go up to the gallery in Santa Sophia," said Paul. "I am not
a nervous person, but it brings the story back too vividly."

"What does it matter, since he is found?" asked Hermione.

Patoff was struck by the question, for it was too much at variance with
his own feelings to seem reasonable. It was not because he preferred to
avoid all reminiscence of the adventure that he had stayed below, but
rather because he hated to think what the consequences of Alexander's
return had been.

"What does it matter?" he repeated slowly. "It matters a great deal.
What happened on that night, two years ago, was the beginning of a whole
series of misfortunes. I have had bad luck ever since."

"Why do you say that?" asked Hermione, somewhat reproachfully.

"It is true,--that is one reason why I say it. But for that night, my
mother would never have been mad. I should never have been sent to
Persia, and should not have gone to England during my leave. I should
not have met you"----

"You consider that a terrible misfortune," observed Hermione.

"It is always a man's misfortune when he de