's finer
nature. It has a dullness that turns men into vegetables. I have been
here now for three years, and till to-night I have not felt a
thrill."

"No?" Truda spoke lightly of design. "But you are the Governor, are
you not? You are aloof, far above thrills. Why, it was only last
night, while I was driving home, that I found a dead woman in the
street."

"I know," he said. "And a live baby; I heard all about it. If you had
been an hour later they would have been cleaned away. I am sorry if
you were shocked."

"Shocked?" repeated Truda. "I was not thinking of that." She shivered
a little, and gathered her big cloak more closely about her. "But I
had not heard--I did not know--what the Judenhetze really was. And I
think the world does not know, or it would not tolerate it."

"Eh?" The prince stared at her. "But it has upset you," he said
soothingly. "You must forget it. It is not well to dwell on these
things."

The big mirror against the wall, bright with lights, reflected the
pair of them sitting face to face in the attitude of intimacy. The
Prince, bearded and big, felt protective and paternal, for Truda,
muffled in her great cloak, looked very small and feminine just then.

His tone, so consoling and smooth, roused her; she sat up.

"Prince," she said, "you could stop it."

"The Judenhetze, you mean?" He made a gesture of resignation. "You
are wrong, dear lady. I can do nothing. It does not rest with me."

"You mean, there are higher powers who are responsible?" she
demanded.

"We will not talk politics," suggested the Prince. "But roughly that
is what I mean."

She scanned him seriously. "Yes," she said; "I thought that was so.
And you can do nothing? I see."

"But why," asked the Prince--"why let yourself be troubled, dear
lady? This is a pitiful business, no doubt; it has thrust itself on
you by an accident; you are moved and disturbed. But, after all, the
Jews are not our friends."

The courage to deal forthrightly was not lacking to her. As she sat
up again, the fur cloak slipped, and her bare shoulders gleamed above
it. Her face was grave with the gravity of a serious child.

"I am a Jewess," she said.

"Eh? What?" The Prince smiled uncertainly.

"I am a Jewess," repeated Truda. "The Jews are my friends. And if you
can do nothing, there is something I can do."

He smiled still, but now there was amusement in his smile. He was not
at all disconcerted.

"Do you know," he said, "I had a