Fortunately for the fugitives, the poorly paid railway officials in
these parts are the obsequious servants of those who liberally bribe.
The station-master, though a very grand personage, indeed, in his
uniform and metal-bound cap, became pliant as an East Indian waiter and
accepted without question the explanation of the lady. It was she who
was spokesman throughout. She said that she and her companion were
play-actors and that their baggage was detained by a cruel manager of a
Munich musical beer-hall; this was a wise admission as the man might
have seen her at the Harmonista, or, at least, her photograph in the
doorway. But they were compelled to reach Lucerne without delay or lose
a profitable engagement, by the proceeds of which they could redeem
their paraphernalia. While listening, the man dealt out the tickets,
pocketed the gratuity which was handsomely added to a previous donation,
and, without any surprise, agreed to let any one calling take away the
horses; they certainly were above the means of strolling singers who had
to flee from a town. Farther discussion, if he had sought it, was
curtailed by the electric signal heralding the coming of a train. In
eight minutes, the two were ensconced in a first-class compartment and
hurried along toward the Land of Lakes.

In the sumptuous coach, the girl unburdened herself, but, with rare art
or imperfect knowledge of her origin, she was more explicit on the
family of her cousin than on her own. However, it was his that had made
a niche in art and scandalous story.

As for Kaiserina, her mother was the eldest daughter of a Count
Dobronowska, of a Polish branch of the Vieradlers, who had settled in
Fuiland. The count had meddled with politics and the Czar had promptly
confiscated his landed property. The loss and fear of Siberia had broken