of people who are sorry for the Poles and interested in
them."

"Are you?" asked Martin, looking down at her.

"Yes," she replied, with downcast eyes. "Come," she said, after a pause,
with a sort of effort, "we must not stand in front of this shop any
longer."

"Especially," he said, with a laugh, as he followed her, "as it is a
Russian shop. Wherever you see tea and articles of religion mixed up in
a window, that is a Russian shop, and if you sympathize with Poland you
will not go into it. There are, on the other hand, plenty of shops in
Warsaw where they will not serve Russians. It is to those shops that you
must go."

Netty looked at him doubtfully.

"I am quite serious," he said. "We must fight with what weapons we
have."

"Yes," she answered, indicating the shops, "these people, but not you.
You are a prince, and they cannot touch you. They would not dare to take
anything from you."

"Because there is nothing to take," laughed Martin, gayly; "we were
ruined long ago. They took everything there was to take in 1830, when
my father was a boy. He could not work for his living, and I may not
either; so I am a prince without a halfpenny to call his own."

"I am so sorry!" she said, in a soft voice, and, indeed, she looked it.

Then she caught sight of Paul Deulin a long way off, despite her
short sight, which was perhaps spasmodic, as short sight often is. She
stopped, and half turned, as if to dismiss Martin. When Deulin perceived
them he was standing in the middle of the pavement, as if they had
just met. He came up with a bow to Netty and his hand stretched out to
Martin--his left hand, which conveyed the fact that he was an old and
familiar friend.

"I suppose you are on your way back to the Europe to lunch?" he said to
Netty. "I am in luck. I have come just in time to walk back with you, if
you will permit it."

And he did not wait for permission, but walked on beside Netty, while
Martin took off his hat and went in the opposite direction. It was not
the way he wanted to go but something had made him think that Netty
desired him to go, and he departed with a pleasant sensation as of
a secret possessed in common with her. He walked back quickly to the
flower-shop kept by Ulrich, in the Senatorska.

A rare thing happened to Paul Deulin at this moment. He fell into a
train of thought, and walked some distance by the side of Netty without
speaking. It was against his principles altogether. "Never be sil