ose we might go to my pastry shop."

Cabinska did not question him, and only after they had seated
themselves at the pastry shop, where she regularly spent a few hours
each day, drinking chocolate, smoking cigarettes, and gazing at the
street crowds, did she venture to ask him with a pretended
indifference: "What did you notice in that hussy's hands, Mr.
Counselor?"

The counselor shifted impatiently, put his binoculars upon his nose,
and called to the waiter, "Black coffee and very light chocolate!"

Then he turned to Cabinska. "You see, that is a secret . . . to be
sure, one that means little, but nevertheless, not my own to
disclose."

Cabinska insisted, for merely to say: "a secret," throws all women
out of balance; but he told her nothing, only remarking abruptly, "I
am leaving town, Mrs. Directress."

"Where are you going?" she inquired, greatly surprised.

"I must . . ." he said, "I will return in two weeks. Before I go, I
would like to settle our . . ."

Cabinska frowned and waited to hear what he would say further.

"For you see, it might happen that I would return only in the fall
when you will no longer be in Warsaw."

"I surmised long ago that you were an old usurer," Cabinska was
thinking, tinkling her glass with a spoon.

"Some fruit cakes!" he called to the waiter and then, turning to her
again, continued . . . "And that is why I wish to return to you,
dear lady, your bracelet."

"But we have not yet the money. Our success is continually being
interrupted . . . we have so many old payments to meet . . ."

"Oh, don't bother about the money. Imagine that I am giving you this
for your name day as a small token of friendship . . . will you?" he
asked, slipping the bracelet upon her plump wrist.

"Oh, Counselor, Counselor! if I did not love my John so much, I
would . . ." she cried, overjoyed at regaining her bracelet without
any obligations. She squeezed his hands so heartily and beamed upon
him with her joyous gaze so closely, that he felt her breath upon
his cheeks.

He gently pushed her aside, biting his lips.

"Ah, Counselor, you are an ideal man!"

"Oh, let us drop that! . . . You can invite me to be a godfather to
your next child."

"Oh, you're a rogue, Mr. Counselor! . . . What's that? . . . you
already want to depart?"

"My train leaves in two hours. Goodbye!"

He paid the bill at the buffet and hurried away, sending her a smile
through the window.

Cabinska still sat there