CHAPTER III


While the financier was contentedly musing in his chair beside the fire,
his niece was hurrying into the park, wrapped in a dark cloak and thick
veil. She had slipped out noiselessly, a few minutes after she left the
library. The sun had completely set now and it was damp and cold, with
the dead leaves, and the sodden autumn feeling in the air. Zara Shulski
shivered, in spite of the big cloak, as she peered into the gloom of the
trees, when she got nearly to the Achilles statue. The rendezvous had
been for six o'clock; it was now twenty minutes past, and it was so bad
for Mirko to wait in the cold. Perhaps they would have gone on. But no;
she caught sight of two shabby figures, close up under the statue, when
she got sufficiently near.

They came forward eagerly to meet her. And even in the half light it
could be seen that the boy was an undersized little cripple of perhaps
nine or ten years old but looking much younger; as it could also be seen
that even in his worn overcoat and old stained felt hat the man was a
gloriously handsome creature.

"What joy to see you, Chérisette!" exclaimed the child. "Papa and I have
been longing and longing all the day. It seemed that six would never
come. But now that you are here let me eat you--eat you up!" And the
thin, little arms, too long for the wizened body, clasped fondly round
her neck as she lifted him, and carried him toward a seat where the
three sat down to discuss their affairs.

"I know nothing, you see, Mimo," the Countess Shulski said, "beyond that