quite possible, though, that we might be of Polish descent, for my father
had once told me of an ancestor, an old colonel, who fell at Austerlitz.
As to the armorial bearings, we Americans never cared for such things. The
only thing I could remember was a certain seal which my father used to
wear, and with which he sealed his letters. The tradition in the family
was that it belonged to this old colonel. My sister used it sometimes. I
had a letter from her in my pocket.

"She examined the indented wax on the envelope, opened her cloak quickly,
and took from the bag at her side a seal mounted in jewels, bearing a
crest and coat of arms.

"'See how slight the difference. The quarterings are almost the same, and
the crest and motto identical. This side is mine, the other is my
husband's. How very, very strange! And yet you are an American?'

"'And your husband's crest?' I asked. 'Is he also a Pole?'

"'Yes; I married a Pole,' with a slight trace of haughtiness, even
resentment, at the inquiry.

"'And his name, madame? Chance has given you mine--a fair exchange is
never a robbery.'

"She drew herself up, and said quickly, and with a certain bearing I had
not noticed before:--

"'Not now; it makes no difference.'

"Then, as if uncertain of the effect of her refusal, and with a