most sobbed; here his speech
was interrupted by a rough, sarcastic voice:

"It is well that she came to her senses at last--"

"What senses? What are you weaving, mother? You know nothing.
Love is never an offense. Ils ont peche, mais le ceil est un
don."

"You are mad, Tulek! Am I some madam that you must speak French
to me?" Still he finished:

"Ils ont souffert, c'est le sceau du pardon. I will translate
this for thee: They have sinned, but heaven is a gift-----They
have suffered; suffering is the seal of pardon."

"Tulek, let heaven alone! To mix up such things with
heaven--Arabian adventure!"

"Are you a priest, mother? I tell you of my own suffering and the
suffering of that noble, sweet being--" In the antechamber, the
door of which widow Clemens, in returning from the city, had not
locked, was heard stamping, and the youthful voice of a man
called:

"Is your master at home?"

"Arabian adventure!" muttered widow Clemens.

"Maryan!" exclaimed Kranitski with delight, and he answered
aloud:

"I am at home, at home!"

"An event worthy of record in universal history," answered the
voice of a man speaking somewhat through his nose and teeth.

"And the baron!" cried Kranitski; then he whispered:

"Close the drawing-room door, mother; I must freshen up a
little," and from behind the closed door he spoke to those who
were in the drawing-room:

"In a moment, my dears, in a moment I shall be at your service."

In the light of the lamp, placed by widow Clemens in the
drawing-room, he appeared, indeed, after a few minutes, dressed,
his hair arranged, perfumed, elegant with springy movements and
an unconstrained smile on his lips. Only his lids were reddened,
and on his forehead were many wrinkles which would not be
smoothed away.

"A comedian! There is a comedian!" grumbled widow Clemens,
returning to the kitchen, with a terrible clatter of overshoes.

The two young men pressed his hand in friendship. It was clear
that they liked him.

"Why did you avoid us all day?" inquired Baron Emil. "We waited
for you at Borel's--he gave us an excellent dinner. But maybe you
are fasting?"

"Let him alone, he has his suffering," put in Maryan. "I am so
sorry, mon bon vieux (my good old man), that I have persuaded the
baron to join me in taking you out. I cannot, of course, leave
you a victim to melancholy."

Kranitski was moved; gratitude and tenderness were gazing out of
his eyes.

"Thanks, thanks! You to