have had a bad mother whom they told she was dead,
and she was glad to hear it. Perhaps she even wished it to be killed.
Ah! sir, there are those born outside the headsman's house who ought to
end their lives on the headsman's threshold. Never for one hour's time
have I quitted that child. I taught her to walk, to talk, I prepared all
her food for her, and now she prepares mine for me. I have eaten no
cooked food which her hand has not made ready. While she was still but a
wee thing I watched by her bed while she slept, now she watches over me
while I sleep. When I go a journey she comes with me, I never leave her
behind. Only one thing troubles me when I think of her: What will become
of her when I die? what will become of her when she grows up?"

The youth tenderly pressed the old man's hand, and said to him with a
voice betraying some emotion:

"Don't be uneasy! Thou hast been a good father to the child, if thou
shouldst die I will find a good mother for her. Make a note of this name
and address: 'Maria Kamienszka, Lemberg.' Whenever thou dost write to
the above address on this subject thou shalt receive an answer with
full information. Nay, perhaps thou mayest hear sooner from that quarter
than thou desirest."

The old man kissed the youth's hand and stammered some unintelligible
words of blessing.

At that moment the door opened, and little Elise came in with two
glasses of wine-soup on a platter from the kitchen.

She placed the fragrant steaming drink on the table, spread beneath it a
snow-white diaper, and with her sweet gracious voice invited the
stranger to partake thereof, as it would warm and comfort him.

The stranger gently stroked her sweet pretty face, kissed her fair head,
and touching glasses with his host, emptied his own at one manly gulp.

"And right good it is, my little hostess! It has made quite a man of
me."

The old man needed far more pressing. The little girl had to taste it
first to put him in the humour for it. It was quite clear that this
adopted father ran a great risk of being spoiled.

Peter Zudar's face was now quite bright and cheerful.

"Ah, sir!" said he to the stranger, "I have never felt before as I feel
now. My heart feels as light as if no load had ever lain upon it. I feel
myself a man. How long will you remain with me? I hope it will be for a
long time."

"It cannot be, my worthy fellow, my vocation summons me elsewhere. By
the way, hast thou any apprentices or as