the silver. "And why will you refuse me the honour--"

The other working people exchanged glances of amusement, as though they
knew what was coming. Vjera hid her face in her hands as she rested her
elbows on the table before her.

"I must indeed explain," answered the Count. "To-morrow, I shall be
obliged to leave you, not to return to the occupation which has so long
been a necessity to me in my troubles. Fortune at last returns to me and I
am free. I think I have spoken to you in confidence of my situation, once
at least, if not more often. My difficulties are at an end. I have
received letters announcing that to-morrow I shall be reinstated in my
possessions. You have shown me kindness--kindness, Herr Fischelowitz, and,
what has been more than kindness to me, you have shown me great courtesy.
Every one has not treated the poor gentleman with the same forbearance.
But let bygones be bygones. On the occasion of my return to prosperity,
permit me to offer you, as the only gift as yet within my means, the
result of my last day's work within these walls. You have been very kind,
and I thank you very sincerely."

There was a tremor in the Count's voice, and a moisture in his eyes, as he
drew himself up in his threadbare decent frock-coat and held out his
sinewy hand, stained with the long handling of tobacco in his daily
labour. Fischelowitz smiled with uncommon cheerfulness as he grasped the
bony fingers heartily.

"Thank you," he said. "I accept. I esteem it an honour to have been of any
assistance to you in your temporary annoyances."

Vjera still hid her face. The Cossack watched what was happening with an