"How can I be sure? I am not sure at all. But Ziska said something
which made me feel sure of it, as I told you before. And I have
supposed always that they must be in the Ross Markt. Where else can
they be?"

"Your aunt says that you have got them."

"That I have got them?"

"Yes, you. That is what she intends me to understand." The Jew had
stopped at one of the corners, close under the little lamp, and looked
intently into Nina's face as he spoke to her.

"And you believe her?" said Nina.

But he went on without noticing her question. "She intends me
to believe that you have got them, and are keeping them from me
fraudulently! cheating me, in point of fact--that you are cheating me,
so that you may have some hold over the property for your own purposes.
That is what your aunt wishes me to believe. She is a wise woman, is
she not? and very clever. In one breath she tries to bribe me to give
you up, and in the next she wants to convince me that you are not worth
keeping."

"But, Anton--"

"Nay, Nina, I will not put you to the trouble of protestation. Look at
that star. I should as soon suspect the light which God has placed in
the heaven of misleading me, as I should suspect you."

"Oh, Anton, dear Anton, I do so love you for saying that! Would it be
possible that I should keep anything from you?"

"I think you would keep nothing from me. Were you to do so, you could
not be my own love any longer. A man's wife must be true to him in
everything, or she is not his wife. I could endure not only no fraud
from you, but neither could I endure falsehood."

"I have never been false to you. With God's help I never will be false
to you."

"He has given you His help. He has made you true-hearted, and I do not
doubt you. Now answer me another question. Is it possible that your
father should have the paper?"

Nina paused a moment, and then she replied with eagerness, "Quite
impossible. I am sure that he knows nothing of it more than you know."
When she had so spoken they walked in silence for a few yards, but
Anton did not at once reply to her. "You do not think that father is
keeping anything from you, do you," said Nina.

"I do not know," said the Jew. "I am not sure."

"You may be sure. You may be quite sure. Father is at least honest."

"I have always thought so."

"And do you not think so still?"

"Look here, Nina. I do not know that there is a Christian in Prague who
would feel it to be beneath him to