is the amulet the devotee would have. And I do not further wish to write
to her; no, because she would say, 'What, that is a little matter to do
for my friend Calabressa.' No; I write to you--I write to one who has
knowledge of affairs--and I say to myself, 'If he considers it prudent,
then he will ask the beautiful child to give her portrait to this one
who will worship it.' I have declared to him that I will make the
request; I make it. Do not consider it a trifling matter; it is not to
him; it is the crown of his existence. And if he says, 'Do you see, this
is what I am ready to do for her--I will give my life if she or her
friends wish it;' then I say--I, Calabressa--that a portrait at one
shilling, two shillings, ten shillings, is not so very much in return.
Now, my dear friend, you will consider the prudence of granting his
request and mine. I believe in his faithfulness. If you say to him, 'The
beautiful lady who was kind to you wishes you to do this or do that; or
wishes you never to part with this portrait; or wishes you to keep
silence on this or on that,' you may depend on him. I say so. Adieu! Say
to the little one that there is some one who does not forget her.
Perhaps you will never hear from Calabressa again: remember him not as a
madcap, but as one who wishes you well. To-morrow I start for
Cyprus--then farther--with a light heart. Adieu!

"Calabressa."

* * * * *

He handed the letter to Natalie's mother. The elder woman read the
letter carefully. She laughed quietly; but there were tears in her eyes.

"It is like my old friend Calabressa," she said. "Natalushka, they want
you to give your portrait to this poor creature who adores you. Why not?
Calabressa says he will do whatever you tell him. Tell him, then, not to
part with it; not to show it to any one, and not to say to any one he
has seen either you or me here. Is not that simple? Tell him to come
here to-morrow or next day; you can send the photograph to Mr. Brand."

The girl went to the door, and said a few words to Kirski. He said
nothing in reply, but sunk on his knees, as he had done in Curzon
Street, and took her hand and kissed it; then he rose, and bowed
respectfully to the others, and left.

Presently Waters came in and announced that luncheon was on the table;
the portieres were drawn aside; they passed into the farther end of the
apartment, and sat down. The banquet was not a sumptuous one, and there