“Ah!” said Bodlevski, after a searching study of the count’s face.  “I understand! the baroness will return in a few minutes and then we can discuss matters at our leisure.”

But in spite of this understanding it was evident that Bodlevski and Count Kallash had not impressed each other very favorably.  This, however, did not prevent the concert of the powers from working vigorously together.

X

AN UNEXPECTED REUNION

On the wharf of the Fontauka, not far from Simeonovski Bridge, a crowd was gathered.  In the midst of the crowd a dispute raged between an old woman, tattered, disheveled, miserable, and an impudent-looking youth.  The old woman was evidently stupid from misery and destitution.

While the quarrel raged a new observer approached the crowd.  He was walking leisurely, evidently without an aim and merely to pass the time, so it is not to be wondered at that the loud dispute arrested his attention.

“Who are you, anyway, you old hag?  What is your name?” cried the impudent youth.

“My name?  My name?” muttered the old woman in confusion.  “I am a—­I am a princess,” and she blinked at the crowd.

Everyone burst out laughing.  “Her Excellency, the Princess!  Make way for the Princess!” cried the youth.

The old woman burst into sudden anger.

“Yes, I tell you, I am a princess by birth!” and her eyes flashed as she tried to draw herself up and impose on the bantering crowd.

“Princess What?  Princess Which?  Princess How?” cried the impudent youth, and all laughed loudly.

“No!  Not Princess How!” answered the old woman, losing the last shred of self-restraint; “but Princess Che-che-vin-ski!  Princess Anna Chechevinski!”

When he heard this name Count Kallash started and his whole expression changed.  He grew suddenly pale, and with a vigorous effort pushed his way through the crowd to the miserable old woman’s side.

“Come!” he said, taking her by the arm.  “Come with me!  I have something for you!”

“Something for me?” answered the old woman, looking up with stupid inquiry and already forgetting the existence of the impudent youth.  “Yes, I’ll come!  What have you got for me?”

Count Kallash led her by the arm out of the crowd, which began to disperse, abashed by his appearance and air of determination.  Presently he hailed a carriage, and putting the old woman in, ordered the coachman to drive to his rooms.

There he did his best to make the miserable old woman comfortable, and his housekeeper presently saw that she was washed and fed, and soon the old woman was sleeping in the housekeeper’s room.

To explain this extraordinary event we must go back twenty years.

In 1838 Princess Anna Chechevinski, then in her twenty-sixth year, had defied her parents, thrown to the winds the traditions of her princely race, and fled with the man of her choice, followed by her mother’s curses and the ironical congratulations of her brother, who thus became sole heir.