you had been away."

"Yes; I have been to Russia."

Her face was steadily beautiful, composed and ready.

"Ah! How interesting! I have been in Petersburg. I love Russia." While
she spoke she was actually looking across the room toward the tall
Frenchman, her late companion.

"Do you?" answered Paul eagerly. His face lighted up after the manner of
those countenances that belong to men of one idea. "I am very much
interested in Russia."

"Do you know Petersburg?" she asked rather hurriedly. "I mean--society
there?"

"No. I know one or two people in Moscow."

She nodded, suppressing a quick little sigh which might have been one of
relief had her face been less pleasant and smiling.

"Who?" she asked indifferently. She was interested in the lace of her
pocket-handkerchief, of which the scent faintly reached him. He was a
simple person, and the faint odor gave him a distinct pleasure--a
suggested intimacy.

He mentioned several well-known Muscovite names, and she broke into a
sudden laugh.