willingness to be gracious, she added:--

"In a few minutes--at ten o'clock--we reach Trieste. The train stops
twenty minutes. You were so kind about my luncheon; I am stronger now.
Will you dine with me?'

"I thanked her, and on arriving at Trieste followed her to the door. As we
alighted from the carriage I noticed the same dark man standing by the
steps, his fingers on his hat. During the meal my companion seemed
brighter and less weary, more gracious and friendly, until I called the
waiter and counted out the florins on his tray. Then she laid her hand
quietly but firmly upon my arm.

"'Please do not--you distress me; my servant Polaff has paid for
everything.'

"I looked up. The dark man was standing behind her chair, his hat in his
hand.

"I can hardly express to you my feelings as these several discoveries
revealed to me little by little the conditions and character of my
traveling companion. Brought up myself under a narrow home influence, with
only a limited knowledge of the world, I had never yet been thrown in with
a woman of her class. And yet I cannot say that it was altogether the
charm of her person that moved me. It was more a certain hopeless sort of
sorrow that seemed to envelop her, coupled with an indefinable distrust
which I could not solve. Her reserve, however, was impenetrable, and her
guarded silence on every subject bearing upon herself so pronounced that I
dared not break through it. Yet, as she sat there in the carriage after
dinner, during the earlier hours of the night, she and I the only