"Eh? What?" The Prince smiled uncertainly.

"I am a Jewess," repeated Truda. "The Jews are my friends. And if you
can do nothing, there is something I can do."

He smiled still, but now there was amusement in his smile. He was not
at all disconcerted.

"Do you know," he said, "I had almost guessed it? There is something
in you--I noticed it again to-night, in your great scene--that
suggests it. A sort of ardor, a glow, as it were; something burning
and poignant. Well, if all the Jews were like you there would be no
Judenhetze."

She put the futile compliment from her with a movement of impatience.

"You can still do nothing?" she asked

"My powers are where they were, Madame," he answered.

"Then," she said slowly, "it rests with me." She gathered her cloak
about her again. "I am tired, as you see," she said wearily--"tired
and a little strained. I will beg you to excuse me."

He rose to his feet at once and bowed formally.

"At least," he said, "such a matter is not to interrupt our
friendship, Madame."