liff, and yet neither the one
nor the other, a poor relation, an embarrassing friend.

"Because, countess," he answered with perfect ease of manner, "there are
no thanks due. I am Adam's friend, and it gives me pleasure to take care
of his interests."

"And you remain standing for your pleasure, too," remarked Comte Adam.

Paz sat down on a chair near the door.

"I remember seeing you about the time I was married, and afterwards
in the courtyard," said Clementine. "But why do you put yourself in a
position of inferiority,--you, Adam's friend?"

"I am perfectly indifferent to the opinion of the Parisians," he
replied. "I live for myself, or, if you like, for you two."

"But the opinion of the world as to a friend of my husband is not
indifferent to me--"

"Ah, madame, the world will be satisfied if you tell them I am 'an
original.'"

After a moment's silence he added, "Are you going out to-day?"

"Will you come with us to the Bois?"

"Certainly."

So saying, Paz bowed and withdrew.

"What a good soul he is!" said Adam. "He has all the simplicity of a
child."

"Now tell me all about your relations with him," said Clementine.

"Paz, my dear," said Laginski, "belongs to a noble family as old and
illustrious as our own. One of the Pazzi of Florence, at the time of
their disasters, fled to Poland, where he settled with some of his
property and founded the Paz family, to which the title of count was
granted. This family, which distinguished itself greatly in the glorious
days of our royal republic, became rich. The graft from the tree that
was felled in Italy flourished so vigorously in Poland that there are
several branches of the family still there. I need not tell you that
some are rich and some are poor. Our Paz is the scion of a poor branch.
He was an orphan, without other fortune than his sword, when he served
in the regiment of the Grand Duke Constantine at the time of our
revolution. Joining the Polish cause, he fought like a Pole, like a
patriot, like a man who has nothing,--three good reasons for fighting
well. In his last affair, thinking he was followed by his men, he dashed
upon a Russian battery and was taken prisoner. I was there. His brave
act roused me. 'Let us go and get him!' I said to my troop, and we
charged the battery like a lot of foragers. I got Paz--I was the seventh
man; we started twenty and came back eight, counting Paz. After Warsaw
was sold we were forced to escape those Russian