ely sheltered from the cold and wind, so
wretched as these two poor children of fortune who would have to go
supperless to bed if they could not charm a few pence out of the
passers-by.

Nello withdrew his violin from its case with his cold fingers. Just as
he was about to draw the bow across the strings, a carriage passed
down the street on its way to the Royalty Theatre. Inside was a
handsome man verging upon thirty-five. Beside him sat a very beautiful
girl. Nello glanced at them swiftly as they came by. They were
evidently not English, but he could not for the moment guess at their
nationality.

They certainly did not belong to any one of the Latin races, that was
evident. It was not till later that he discovered their identity. The
tall, imperious-looking man was Prince Zouroff, the Russian Ambassador
to the Court of St. James's. The girl, about twenty, was his young
sister, the Princess Nada.

The young Princess was as kind and sweet-natured as she was beautiful.
She caught sight of the two mendicants, for as such she regarded them,
standing there in the snow, and a gleam of compassion came into her
lovely eyes. Impetuously, she pulled at the check-string, with the
intention of stopping the carriage and giving them money.

Her brother laid his hand on hers roughly.

"What foolish thing were you going to do now, Nada? Your
sentimentality is an absolute curse to you. If you had your own way,
you would give to every whining beggar in the street."

She shrank back as if he had struck her a blow. There was no love lost
between the two. He despised her for her kind, charitable instincts;
she disliked him for his hard, domineering nature, unsoftened by any
lovable or generous qualities. She put back the purse which she had
drawn hastily from her pocket. Her mouth curled in a mutinous and
contemptuous smile, but she returned no answer to the brutal words.

Nello played on in the cold and biting wind. When he had finished, his
sister had been the recipient of two small donations from the few
passers-by. The girl's heart already felt lighter. They could not
expect very much on such an unpropitious night as this.

And then, as the young violinist paused, from the first floor of one
of the houses close to them, there floated faintly into the air the
strains of a sweet and melancholy air, played with exquisite taste and
feeling.

Nello listened eagerly, while his heart contracted with a spasm of
pain. The man who h