"What do you mean?" demanded Truda.

He continued to look at her steadily, but made no answer. She rose
from her chair and took one step towards him; then paused. A tense
moment of silence passed, and Truda Schottelius sighed.

"How did you know?" she asked, in a matter-of-fact tone.

The big young man smiled. "How did I know that you, too, were a Jew--
is that what you mean?" Truda nodded. "Ah, Excellency, there is an
instinct in this thing, and, besides, who but a Jew is a great artist
nowadays? Believe me, there is not one of us from whom you could hide
it."

"Is it as plain as that?" asked Truda.

"As plain as that," he replied. She laughed frankly, meeting his eyes
with unabashed mirth, till he perforce smiled in sympathy.

"Then," she cried, "what, does it matter? Here I am, a Jewess. I
cannot hide it. The first Jewish baby that cries for me wins me over;
and there are worse things--yes, many worse things--than being
knocked on the head by a drunken Christian. You didn't know that, did
you?"

"I do not doubt what you say," he answered.

"You do not doubt!" repeated Truda, with quick contempt. "I tell you
it is so, and I know. Yes!" For a moment her face darkened as though