ing. He remembered he had put
that question to his devoted little sister, Anita, and she had
answered bravely that she would leave the decision to him.

And by one turn, as it seemed, of fortune's wheel, all this was
changed. He had in his pocket a letter received from Anita that
morning, written from the house of the kind ladies in whose charge the
Baron Salmoros had placed her when he despatched her brother on his
mission to Russia.

A young Englishman had fallen in love with Anita; she had fallen in
love with him. He had excellent prospects. One of the two benevolent
ladies had enclosed a brief note, speaking in the highest terms of the
young lover, who was also a protege of the benevolent Salmoros. Anita
had promised to become his wife, subject to her brother's consent.

How far away it all seemed, that snowy night in Dean Street, when he
had played in the gutter to earn a few coppers for food and lodging.
Dear old Papa Peron, with his big heart, the genial Degraux, the
powerful and astute Salmoros, who picked out intelligent instruments
for his deeply laid schemes! All these figures were present to him as
he strolled along.

So Anita was in love and would shortly be a happy wife. Well, if she
made half as good a wife as a sister, her husband would be a fortunate
man. He would ask a few details of Salmoros when he dined with him
to-morrow night about this young suitor, but he had no doubt he would
write Anita a warm letter of congratulation.

And for himself! Last night, the beautiful Nada, whom he had regarded
as a star set high up in the firmament above him, had returned his
kiss. Already he occupied an important post in the musical world. This
morning, Golitzine had hinted at substantial rewards for his secret
and important services. The Count had spoken of him as one of
fortune's favourites. The description did not seem to be misplaced.

His heart beat more confidently as he approached the Count's house.
After all, he was not so unworthy as he had once imagined himself to
be. Nada was one of a long line. He was going to be the first of
his--virile, ambitious, with the restless impulses of new blood. Was
the difference between them so great after all?

He met the Countess in the hall. Full of the prejudices of her caste,
she did not perhaps wholly approve of the visit; but she was a very
obedient wife, and Golitzine, as it has been explained, had given her
a hint that if Corsini called he was to be admitt