er," returned the girl, bitterly, "to which I can turn,
and that is charcoal."

Prince Waldemar made her a low bow, and, without uttering another
word, took his hat and left her.

A woman who appeals to charcoal needs no man's friendship. In the
metropolis of fashion many poor wretches have found their last refuge
there.

That evening Eveline paid a visit to her jeweller. She brought him a
pair of diamond ear-rings. They were all she had; her ornaments had
been seized by the law officers. She sold these to the jeweller, and
left the purchase-money in his care, to be spent in a yearly sum on
her little brother's grave in Pere la Chaise, to have sods of green
grass round it, and have fresh flowers placed there on All-Souls' Day.
The jeweller promised, for she had been a good customer. She told him
she was going to travel. Apparently it was a long journey, for the
next morning a bundle was found by the police on the banks of the
Seine. It was tied up in a cashmere shawl, which her maid recognized
as belonging to the lost actress.

Prince Waldemar offered a large reward to whoever found the body. But
it was never found, for the bundle laid at the water-side was only a
pretence; and while every one was dragging the river, Eveline had kept
her word and sought refuge in the charcoal pit.

Prince Waldemar never heard of her again. He and his household wore
mourning in memory of her for six weeks.

CHAPTER XXXIV

CSANTA'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

We have now to go back to the Bondavara Company before the crash came,
and when the shares stood at sixty over par, and looked as if they
would go even higher. But Csanta was satisfied to sell at sixty. There
could be too much of even a good thing. One should not be too
grasping, and sixty thousand gulden is a nice profit in one year. He
thought he would act as Spitzhase had often recommended, and sell out
his shares in small quantities until they were all gone. It would add
to the pleasure not to do it all at once.

For some time the quotations had been stationary. He was accustomed to
go every morning to the cafe and read the exchange column, and had
always seen the same quotation--"Bondavara, sixty above par."

On the morning of the day upon which Csanta had arranged to send the
first instalment of his shares to Vienna he went to his cafe, and,
while waiting to be served, took up the first newspaper that came to
hand. As usual he commenced by reading it backwards