ed the
seriousness of the situation. The little Bulgarian's face, from gray
became livid; tiny beads of cold sweat came out on his forehead.

"What have I done?" cried Harmony. "Oh, what have I done? If I had known
about the pigeon--"

Georgiev recovered himself.

"The Fraulein can do nothing wrong," he said. "It is a matter of an
hour's delay, that is all. It may not be too late."

Monia Reiff, from the next room, called loudly for more coffee. The
sulky Hungarian brought it without a glance in their direction.

"Too late for what?"

"Fraulein, if I may trouble you--but glance from the window to the
street below. It is of an urgency, or I--Please, Fraulein!"

Harmony glanced down into the half-light of the street. Georgiev, behind
her, watched her, breathless, expectant. Harmony drew in her head.

"Only a man in a green hat," she said. "And down the street a group of
soldiers."

"Ah!"

The situation dawned on the girl then, at least partially.

"They are coming for you?"

"It is possible. But there are many soldiers in Vienna."

"And I with the pigeon--Oh, it's too horrible! Herr Georgiev, stay here
in this room. Lock the door. Monia will say that it is mine--"

"Ah no, Fraulein! It is quite hopeless. Nor is it a matter of the
pigeon. It is war, Fraulein. Do not distress yourself. It is but a
matter of--imprisonment."

"There must be something I can do," desperately. "I hear them below. Is
there no way to the roof, no escape?"

"None, Fraulein. It was an oversight. War is not my game; I am a man of
peace. You have been very kind to me, Fraulein. I thank you."

"You are not going down!"

"Pardon, but it is better so. Soldiers they are of the provinces mostly,
and not for a lady to confront."

"They are coming up!"

He listened. The clank of scabbards against the stone stairs was
unmistakable. The little Georgiev straightened, threw out his chest,
turned to descend, faltered, came back a step or two.

His small black eyes were fixed on Harmony's face.

"Fraulein," he said huskily, "you are very lovely. I carry always in my
heart your image. Always so long as I live. Adieu."

He drew his heels together, gave a stiff little bow and was gone down
the staircase. Harmony was frightened, stricken. She collapsed in a heap
on the floor of her room, her fingers in her ears. But she need not have
feared. The little Georgiev made no protest, submitted to the inevitable
like a gentleman and a soldier, w