"The vulgarity of the designation is indeed only equalled by that
of your taste in selecting it," he said slowly. Then he turned away,
intending to leave Keyork standing where he was.

But the little man had already repented of his speech. He ran quickly
to his friend's side and laid one hand upon his arm. The Wanderer paused
and again looked down.

"Is it of any use to be offended with my speeches? Am I an acquaintance
of yesterday? Do you imagine that it could ever be my intention to annoy
you?" the questions were asked rapidly in tones of genuine anxiety.

"Indeed, I hardly know how I could suppose that. You have always been
friendly--but I confess--your names for things are not--always----"

The Wanderer did not complete the sentence, but looked gravely at
Keyork as though wishing to convey very clearly again what he had before
expressed in words.

"If we were fellow-countrymen and had our native language in common,
we should not so easily misunderstand one another," replied the other.
"Come, forgive my lack of skill, and do not let us quarrel. Perhaps I
can help you. You may know Prague well, but I know it better. Will you
allow me to say that I know also whom it is you are seeking here?"

"Yes. You know. I have not changed since we last met, nor have
circumstances favoured me."

"Tell me--have you really seen this Unorna, and talked with her?"