being on
whom she, a girl, might rely for protection, shelter, or even for a
morsel of bread. Would St Nicholas cover her from the contumely of the
world, or would St John of the Bridges feed her? Did she in her heart
of hearts believe that even the Virgin would assist her in such a
strait? No; she had no such belief. It might be that such real belief
had never been hers. She hardly knew. But she did know that now, in the
hour of her deep trouble, she could not say her prayers and tell her
beads, and trust valiantly that the goodness of heaven would suffice to
her in her need.

In the mean time Souchey had gone off to the Windberg-gasse, and had
gladdened himself with the soup, with the hot mess of cabbage and the
sausage, supplied by Madame Zamenoy's hospitality. The joys of such a
moment are unknown to any but those who, like Souchey, have been driven
by circumstances to sit at tables very ill supplied. On the previous
day he had fed upon offal thrown away from a butcher's stall, and habit
had made such feeding not unfamiliar to him. As he walked from the
Kleinseite through the Old Town to Madame Zamenoy's bright-looking
house in the New Town, he had comforted himself greatly with thoughts
of the coming feast. The representation which his imagination made to
him of the banquet sufficed to produce happiness, and he went along
hardly envying any man. His propensities at the moment were the
propensities of a beast. And yet he was submitting himself to the
terrible poverty which made so small a matter now a matter of joy to
him, because there was a something of nobility within him which made
him true to the master who had been true to him, when they had both
been young together. Even now he resolved, as he sharpened his teeth,
that through all the soup and all the sausage he would be true to the
Balatkas. He would be true even to Nina Balatka--though he recognised
it as a paramount duty to do all in his power to save her from the Jew.

He was seated at the table in the kitchen almost as soon as he had
entered the house in the Windberg-gasse, and found his plate full
before him. Lotta had felt that there was no need of the delicacy of
compliment in feeding a man who was so undoubtedly hungry, and she had
therefore bade him at once fall to. "A hearty meal is a thing you are
not used to," she had said, "and it will do your old bones a deal of
good." The address was not complimentary, especially as coming from a
lady in re