"There is very little time--only an hour. He is going mad--really mad,
Herr Schmidt, because he has given his word of honour to pay Herr
Fischelowitz that money this evening. I only calmed him, by promising to
bring the money at once."

"You promised that?" exclaimed Schmidt. "It was a very wild promise--"

"I will keep it, and you must help me. We have an hour. If we do not
succeed he will never be himself again."

"But fifty marks!" Schmidt could not recover from his astonishment. "Oh,
Vjera!" he exclaimed at last, in the simplicity of his heart, "how you
must love him!"

"I would do more than that--if I could," she answered. "But come, you will
help me, will you not? I have a ten-mark piece and an old thaler put away
at home. That makes thirteen, and two I have in my pocket, fifteen and--I
am afraid that is all," she concluded after a slight hesitation.

"And five are twenty," said the Cossack, producing the six which he had,
and taking one silver piece out of the number to be returned to his
pocket. The children must not starve on the morrow.

"Oh, thank you, Herr Schmidt!" cried poor Vjera in a joyful voice as she
eagerly took the proffered coins. "Twenty already! Why, twenty-five will
be half, will it not? And I am sure that we can find the rest, then."

"There is Dumnoff," said Schmidt. "He probably has something, too."