! BERKELEY 
 .IBRARY 
 INfVESSftY Of 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
A CIGAEETTE-MAKEE S 
 EOMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 F. MAEION CEAWFOED 
 
 AUTHOR OF MR. ISAACS, DR. CLAUDIUS/ A ROMAN SINGER, 
 ETC. 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1892 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 
 1890 
 
 BY 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 First Edition 1890. Reprinted January 1891 
 
 Second Edition February 1 891 . Reprinted June and December 1891 
 1802. 
 
cm 
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 THE inner room of a tobacconist s shop is not perhaps 
 the spot which a writer of fiction would naturally 
 choose as the theatre of his play, nor does the inventor 
 of pleasant romances, of stirring incident, or moving 
 love-tales feel himself instinctively inclined to turn to 
 Munich as to the city of his dreams. On the other 
 hand, it is by no means certain that, if the choice of a 
 stage for our performance were offered to the most 
 contented among us, we should be satisfied to speak our 
 parts and go through our actor s business upon the 
 boards of this world. Some would prefer to take their 
 properties, their player s crowns and robes, their 
 aspiring expressions and their finely expressed aspira 
 tions before the audience of a larger planet ; others, 
 perhaps the majority, would choose, with more humility 
 as well as with more common sense, the shadowy 
 scenery, the softer footlights and the less exigent 
 public of a modest asteroid, beyond the reach of our 
 
 S> B 
 
 680 
 
2 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 earthly haste, of our noisy and unclean high-roads to 
 honour, of our furious chariot races round the goals of 
 fame, and, especially, beyond the reach of competition. 
 But we have no choice. We are in the world and, 
 before we know where we are, we are on one of the 
 paths which we must traverse in our few score years 
 between birth and death. Moreover, each man s path 
 leads up to the theatre on the one side and down from 
 it on the other. The inexorable manager, Fate, requires 
 that each should go through with his comedy or his 
 drama, if he be judged worthy of a leading part, with 
 his scene or his act in another man s piece, if he be fit 
 only to play the walking gentleman, the dumb foot 
 man, or the mechanically trained supernumerary who 
 does duty by turns as soldier, sailor, courtier, husband 
 man, conspirator or red-capped patriot. A few play 
 well, many play badly, all must appear and the 
 majority are feebly applauded and loudly hissed. He 
 counts himself great who is received with such an 
 uproar of clapping and shout of approval as may 
 drown the voice of the discontented; he is called 
 fortunate who, having missed his cue and broken down 
 in his words, makes his exit in the triumphant train 
 of the greater actor upon whom all eyes are turned ; 
 he is deemed happy who, having offended no man, is 
 allowed to depart in peace upon his downward road. 
 Yet none of these players need pride themselves 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 3 
 
 much upon their success nor take to heart their failure. 
 Long before most of them have slipped into the grave 
 which waits at the foot of the hill, and have been 
 wrapped comfortably in the pleasant earth, their names 
 are forgotten by those who screamed with pleasure or 
 hooted in disgust at their performance, their faces 
 are no longer remembered, their great drama is become 
 an old-fashioned mummery of the past. Why should 
 they care ? Their work is done, they have been re 
 warded or punished, paid with praise and gold or 
 mulcted in the sum of their reputation and estate. 
 Famous or infamous, in honour or in disrepute, in 
 riches or in poverty, they have reached the end of their 
 time, they are worn out, the world will have no more of 
 them, they are worthless in the price-scale of men, 
 they must be buried out of sight and they will be for 
 gotten out of mind. The beginning is the same for 
 all, and the end also, and as for the future, who shall 
 tell us upon what basis of higher intelligence our brief 
 passage across the stage is to be judged ? Why then 
 should the present trouble our vanity so greatly? 
 And if our play is of so little importance, why should 
 we care whether the scenery is romantic instead of 
 commonplace, or why should we make furious efforts 
 to shift a Gothic castle, a drawbridge, a moat and a 
 waterfall into the slides occupied by the four walls of 
 a Munich tobacconist s shop ? 
 
4 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 There is not even anything especial in the appear 
 ance of the place to recommend it to the ready pen of 
 the word - painter. It is an establishment of very 
 modest pretensions situated in one of the side streets 
 leading to a great thoroughfare. As we are in Munich, 
 however, the side street is broad and clean, the pave 
 ment is well swept and the adjoining houses have an 
 air of solid respectability and wealth. At the point 
 where the street widens to an irregular shape on the 
 downward slope there is a neat little iron kiosque 
 completely covered with brilliant advertisements, 
 printed in black Gothic letters upon red and yellow 
 paper. The point of vivid colour is not disagreeable, 
 for it relieves the neutral tints of brick and brown 
 stone, and arrests the eye, long wearied with the 
 respectable parade of buildings. The tobacconist s 
 shop is, indeed, the most shabby, or, to speak more 
 correctly, the least smartly new among its fellow-shops, 
 wherein dwell, in consecutive order, a barber, a watch 
 maker, a pastry-cook, a shoemaker and a colourman. 
 In spite of its unattractive exterior, however, the 
 establishment of Christian Fischelowitz, from South 
 Eussia/ enjoys a very considerable reputation. Within 
 the high, narrow shop there is good store of rare 
 tobaccos, from the mild Kir to the Imperial Samson, 
 the aromatic Dubec and the pungent Swary. The 
 dusty window beside the narrow door exhibits, it is 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 5 
 
 true, only a couple of tall, dried tobacco plants set in 
 flower-pots, a carelessly arranged collection of cedar 
 and pasteboard boxes for cigars and cigarettes, and a 
 fantastically constructed Swiss cottage, built entirely 
 of cigarettes and fine cut yellow leaf, with little pieces 
 of glass set in for windows. This effort of architecture 
 is in a decidedly ruinous condition, the little stuffed 
 paper cylinders are ragged and torn, some of them 
 show signs of detaching themselves from the cardboard 
 frame upon which they are pasted, and the dust of 
 years has accumulated upon the bit of painted board 
 which serves as a foundation for the chalet. In one 
 corner of the window an object more gaudy but not 
 more useful attracts the eye. It is the popular doll 
 figure commonly known in Germany as the Wiener 
 Gigerl or Vienna fop. It is doubtful whether any 
 person could appear in the public places of Vienna in 
 such a costume without being stoned or otherwise 
 painfully put to a shameful death. The doll is ar 
 rayed in black shorts and silk stockings, a wide white 
 waistcoat, a scarlet evening coat, an enormous collar 
 and a white tall hat with a broad brim. He stands 
 upon one foot, raising the other as though in the 
 act of beginning a minuet ; he holds in one hand a 
 stick and in the other a cigarette, a relatively 
 monstrous eye-glass magnifies one of his painted eyes 
 and upon his face is such an expression of combined 
 
6 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 insolence, vulgarity, dishonesty and conceit as would 
 insure his being shot at sight in any Western American 
 village making the least pretence to self-respect. On 
 high days and holidays Christian Fischelowitz inserts 
 a key into the square black pedestal whereon the doll 
 has its being, and the thing lives and moves, turns about 
 and cocks its impertinent head at the passers-by, while 
 a feeble tune of uncertain rhythm is heard grating itself 
 out upon the teeth of the metal comb in the concealed 
 mechanism. Fischelowitz delights in this monstrosity, 
 and is never weary of watching its detestable antics. 
 It is doubtful whether in the simplicity of his good- 
 natured heart he does not really believe that the 
 Wiener Gigerl may attract a stray customer to his 
 counter and, in the long-run, pay for itself. For it 
 cost him money, and in itself, as a thing of beauty, it 
 hardly covers the bad debt contracted with him by a 
 poor fellow-countryman to whom he kindly lent fifty 
 marks last year. He accepted the doll without a 
 murmur, however, in full discharge of the obligation, 
 and with an odd philosophy peculiar to himself, he 
 does his best to get what amusement he can out of the 
 little red-coated figure without complaining and without 
 bitterness. 
 
 Christian s wife, his larger if not his better half, is 
 less complacent. In the publicity of the shop her 
 small black eyes cast glances full of hate upon the 
 
I A CIGARETTE-MAKERS ROMANCE 7 
 
 innocent Gigerl, her full flat face reddens with anger 
 when she remembers the money, and her fat hands 
 would dash the insolent little figure into the street, if 
 her mercantile understanding did not suggest the pos 
 sibility of ultimately selling it for something. In view 
 of such a fortunate contingency, and whenever she is 
 alone, she carefully dusts the thing and puts it away 
 in the cupboard in the corner, well knowing that Fis- 
 chelowitz will return in an hour, will take it out, set 
 it in its place, wind it up and watch its performance 
 with his everlasting, good-humoured, satisfied smile. 
 In public she ventures only to abuse the doll. In 
 the silent watches of the night she directs her sharp 
 speeches at Christian himself. Not that she is alto 
 gether miserly, nor by any means an ill-disposed person. 
 Had she been of such a disposition her husband would 
 not have married her, for he is a very good man. of 
 business and a keen judge of other wares besides 
 tobacco. She is a good mother and a good housewife, 
 energetic, thrifty, and of fairly even temper; but that 
 particular piece of generosity which resulted in the 
 acquisition of a red- coated puppet in exchange for fifty 
 marks fills her heart with anger and her plump brown 
 fingers with an itching desire to scratch and tear some 
 thing or somebody as a means of satisfying her vengeance. 
 For the poor fellow-countryman was one of the Count s 
 friends, and Akulina Fischelowitz abhors the Count and 
 
8 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 loathes him, and the Wiener Gigerl was the beginning 
 of the end. 
 
 While Christian is watching his doll, and Akulina 
 is seated behind the counter, her hands folded upon 
 her lap, and her eyes darting unquiet glances at her 
 husband, the Count is busily occupied in making 
 cigarettes in the dingy back shop among a group of 
 persons, both young and old, all similarly occupied. It 
 is not to be expected that the workroom should be 
 cleaner or more tastefully decorated than the counting- 
 house, and in such a business as the manufacture of 
 cigarettes by hand litter of all sorts accumulates 
 rapidly. The Famous Cigarette Manufactory of 
 Christian Fischelowitz from South Eussia is about as 
 dingy, as unhealthy, as untidy, as dusty a place as 
 can be found within the limits of tidy, well-to-do 
 Munich. The room is lighted by a window and a 
 half-glazed door, both opening upon a dark court. The 
 walls, originally whitewashed, are of a deep rich brown, 
 attributable partly to the constant fumes and exhala 
 tions of tobacco, partly to the fine brown dust of the 
 dried refuse cuttings, and partly to the admirable 
 smoke-giving qualities of the rickety iron stove which 
 stands in one corner, and in which a fire is daily 
 attempted during more than half the year. There are 
 many shelves upon the walls too, and the white wood 
 of these has also received into itself the warm, deep 
 
i A. CIGARETTE- MAKER S ROMANCE 9 
 
 colour. Upon two of these shelves there are accumula 
 tions of useless articles, a cracked glass vase, once the 
 pride of the show window, when it was filled to over 
 flowing with fine cut leaf, a broken - down samovar 
 which has seen tea-service in many cities, from Kiew 
 to Moscow, from Moscow to Yilna, from Vilna to 
 Berlin, from Berlin to Munich ; there are fragments of 
 Russian lacquered wooden bowls, wrecked cigar-boxes, 
 piles of dingy handbills left over from the last half- 
 yearly advertisement, a crazy Turkish narghile, the 
 broken stem of a chibouque, an old hat and an odd 
 boot, besides irregularly shaped parcels, wrapped in 
 crumpled brown paper and half buried in dust. Upon 
 the other shelves are arranged more neatly rows of tin 
 boxes with locks, and reams of still uncut cigarette 
 paper, some white, some straw-coloured. 
 
 Eound about the room are the seats of the workers. 
 One man alone is standing at his task, a man with a 
 dark, Cossack face, high cheek-bones, honest, gleaming 
 black eyes, straggling hair and ragged beard. In his 
 shirt-sleeves, his arms bare to the elbow, he handles 
 the heavy swivel knife, pressing the package of care 
 fully arranged leaves forward and under the blade by 
 almost imperceptible degrees. It is one of the most 
 delicate operations in the art, and the man has an 
 especial gift for the work. So sensitive is his strong 
 right hand that as the knife cuts through the thick 
 
10 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 pile he can detect the presence of a scrap of thin paper 
 amongst the tobacco, and not a bit of hardened stem 
 or a twisted leaf escapes him. It is very hard work, 
 even for a strong man, and the moisture stands in 
 great drops on his dark forehead as he carefully presses 
 the sharp instrument through the resisting substance, 
 quickly lifts it up again and pushes on the package 
 for the next cut. 
 
 At a small black table near by sits a Polish girl, 
 poorly dressed, her heavy red -brown hair braided in 
 one long neat tress, her face deadly white, her blue 
 eyes lustreless and sunken, her thin fingers actively 
 rolling bits of paper round a glass tube, drawing them 
 off as the edges are gummed together, and laying them 
 in a prettily arranged pile before her. She is Vjera, 
 the shell-maker, invariably spoken of as poor Vjera. 
 Vjera, being interpreted from the Eussian, means 
 Faith. There is an odd and pathetic irony in the 
 name borne by the sickly girl. Faith faith in what ? 
 In shell -making? In Christian Fischelowitz ? In 
 Johann Schmidt, the Cossack tobacco-cutter, whose real 
 name is lost in the gloom of many dim wanderings ? 
 In life ? In death ? Who knows ? In God, at least, 
 poor child and in her wretched existence there is little 
 else left for her to believe in. If you ask her whether 
 she believes in the Count, she will turn away rather 
 hastily, but in that case the wish to believe is there. 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 11 
 
 Beside Vjera sits another girl, less pale perhaps, but 
 more insignificant in feature, and similarly occupied, 
 with this slight difference that the little cylinders she 
 makes are straw-coloured when Vjera is making white 
 ones, and white when her companion is using straw- 
 coloured paper. On the opposite side of the room, also 
 before small black tables, sit two men, to wit, Victor 
 Ivanowitch Dumnoff and the Count. It is their busi 
 ness to shape the tobacco and to insert it into the 
 shells, a process performed by rolling the cut leaf into 
 a cylinder in a tongue -shaped piece of parchment, 
 which, when ready, has the form of a pencil, and is 
 slipped into the shell. The parchment is then with 
 drawn, and the tobacco remains behind in its place ; 
 the little bunch of threads which protrudes at each end is 
 cut off with sharp scissors and the cigarette is finished. 
 
 The Count, on the afternoon of the day on which 
 this story opens, was sitting before his little black 
 table in his usual attitude, his head stooping slightly 
 forward, his elbows supported on each side of him, his 
 long fingers moving quickly and skilfully, his greyish 
 blue eyes fixed intently on his work. At five o clock 
 in the afternoon on Tuesday, the sixth of May, in the 
 present year of grace one thousand eight hundred and 
 ninety, the Count was rapidly approaching the two- 
 thousandth cigarette of that day s work. Two thousand 
 in a day was his limit ; and though he boasted that he 
 
12 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 could make three thousand between dawn and mid 
 night, if absolutely necessary, yet he confessed that 
 among the last five hundred a few might be found in 
 which the leaves would be too tightly rolled or too 
 loosely packed. Up to his limit, however, he was to 
 be relied upon, and not one of his hundred score of 
 cigarettes would be found to differ in weight from 
 another by a single grain. 
 
 It is perhaps time to describe the outward appear 
 ance of the busy worker, out of whose life the events 
 of some six-and-thirty hours furnish the subject of this 
 little tale. The Count is thirty years old, but might 
 be thought older, for there are grey streaks in his 
 smooth black hair, and there is a grey tone in the 
 complexion of his tired face. In figure he is thin, 
 broad shouldered, sinewy, well made and graceful. 
 He moves easily and with a certain elegance. His 
 arms and legs are long in proportion to his body. 
 His head is well shaped, bony, full of energy his 
 nose is finely modelled and sharply aquiline ; a short, 
 dark moustache does not quite hide the firm, well- 
 chiselled lips, and the clean-cut chin is prominent and 
 of the martial type. From under his rather heavy 
 eyebrows a pair of keen eyes, full of changing light 
 . and expression, look somewhat contemptuously on the 
 world and its inhabitants. On the whole, the Count 
 is a handsome man and looks a gentleman, in spite of 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 13 
 
 his occupation and in spite of his clothes, which are 
 in the fashion of twenty years ago, but are carefully 
 brushed and all but spotless. There are poor men 
 who can wear a coat as a red Indian will ride a 
 mustang which a white man has left for dead, beyond 
 the period predetermined by the nature of tailoring as 
 the natural term of existence allotted to earthly gar 
 ments. We look upon a centenarian as a miracle of 
 longevity, and he is careful to tell us his age if he 
 have not lost the power of speech ; but if the coats of 
 poor men could speak, how much more marvellous in 
 our eyes would their powers of life appear! A 
 stranger would have taken the Count for a half-pay 
 officer of good birth in straitened circumstances. 
 The expression of his face at the time in question was 
 grave and thoughtful, as though he were thinking of 
 matters weightier to his happiness, if not more neces 
 sary to his material welfare than his work. He saw his 
 fingers moving, he watched each honey-coloured bundle 
 of cut leaf as it was rolled in the parchment tongue, 
 and with unswerving regularity he made the motions 
 required to slip the tobacco into the shell. But, 
 while seeing all that he did, and seeing consciously, 
 he looked as though he saw also through the familiar 
 materials shaped under his fingers, into a dim distance 
 full of a larger life and wider interests. 
 
 The five occupants of the workshop had been 
 
14 
 
 CHAP 
 
 working in silence for nearly half an hour. The two 
 girls on the one side and the two men on the other 
 kept their eyes bent down upon their fingers, while 
 Johann Schmidt, the Cossack, plied his guillotine-like 
 knife in the corner. This same Johann Schmidt, 
 whose real name, to judge from his appearance, might 
 have been Tarass Bulba or Danjelo Buralbash, and 
 was probably of a similar sound, was at once the wit, 
 the spendthrift and the humanitarian of the Fische- 
 lowitz manufactory, possessing a number of good 
 qualities in such abundant measure as to make him 
 a total failure in everything except the cutting of 
 tobacco. Like many witty, generous and kind-hearted 
 persons in a much higher rank of existence, he was 
 cursed with a total want of tact. On the present 
 occasion, having sliced through an unusually long 
 package of leaves and having encountered an excep 
 tional number of obstacles in doing so, he thought fit 
 to pause, draw a long breath and wipe the perspiration 
 from his sallow forehead with a pocket-handkerchief 
 in which the neutral tints predominated. This 
 operation, preparatory to a rest of ten minutes, having 
 been successfully accomplished, Tarass Bulba Schmidt 
 picked up a tiny oblong bit of paper which had found 
 its way to his feet from one of the girls tables, took a 
 pinch of the freshly cut tobacco beside him and rolled 
 a cigarette in his palm with one hand while he felt ID 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 15 
 
 his pocket for a match with the other. Then, in the 
 midst of a great cloud of fragrant smoke, he sat down 
 upon the edge of his cutting-block and looked at his 
 companions. After a few moments of deep thought 
 he gave expression to his meditations in bad German. 
 It is curious to see how readily the Slavs in Germany 
 fall into the habit of using the language of the country 
 when conversing together. 
 
 It is my opinion/ he said at last, that the most 
 objectless existences are those which most exactly accom 
 plish the object set before them. 
 
 Having given vent to this bit of paradox, Johann 
 inhaled as much smoke as his leathery lungs could 
 contain and relapsed into silence. Vjera, the Polish 
 girl, glanced at the tobacco-cutter and went on with her 
 work. The insignificant girl beside her giggled vacantly. 
 Dumnoff did not seem to have heard the remark. 
 
 Nineteen hundred and twenty-three/ muttered the 
 Count between his teeth and in Eussian, as the nine 
 teen hundred and twenty -third cigarette rolled from 
 his fingers, and he took up the parchment tongue for 
 the nineteen hundred and twenty-fourth time that day. 
 
 I do not exactly understand you, Herr Schmidt, 
 said Vjera without looking up again. An objectless 
 life has no object. How then 
 
 There is nothing to understand, growled Dumnoff, 
 who never counted his own work, and always enjoyed 
 
16 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHA.P. 
 
 a bit of conversation, provided he could abuse some 
 thing or somebody. There is nothing in it, and Herr 
 Schmidt is a Landau moss-head. 
 
 It would be curious to ascertain why the wiseacres 
 of eastern Bavaria are held throughout South Ger 
 many in such contempt as to be a byword for dul- 
 ness and stupidity. The Cossack s dark eyes shot a 
 quick glance at the Eussian, but he took no notice 
 of the remark. 
 
 I mean, he said, after a pause, exactly what I 
 say. I am an honest fellow, and I always mean what 
 I say, and no offence to anybody. Do we not all of 
 us, here with Fischelowitz, exactly fulfil the object set 
 before us, I would like to ask ? Do we not make 
 cigarettes from morning till night with horrible exact 
 ness and regularity ? Very well. Do we not, at the 
 same time, lead an atrociously objectless existence ? J 
 
 The object of existence is to live, remarked 
 Dumnoff, who was fond of cabbage and strong spirits, 
 and of little else in the world. The Cossack laughed. 
 
 Do you call this living ? he asked contemptuously. 
 Then the good-humoured tone returned to his voice, 
 and he shrugged his bony shoulders as he crossed one 
 leg over the other and took another puff. 
 
 Nineteen hundred and twenty - nine/ said the 
 Count. 
 
 Do you call that a life for a Christian man ? 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 17 
 
 asked Schmidt again, looking at him and waving towards 
 him the lighted cigarette he held. Is that a life for 
 a gentleman, for a real Count, for a noble, for an edu 
 cated aristocrat, for a man born to be the heir of 
 millions ? 
 
 Thirty, said the Count. No, it is not. But 
 there is no reason why you should remind us of the 
 fact, that I know of. It is bad enough to be obliged 
 to do the thing, without being made to talk about it. 
 Not that it matters to me so much to-day as it did a 
 year ago, as you may imagine. Thirty-one. It will soon 
 be over for me, at least. In fact I only finish these 
 two thousand out of kindness to Fischelowitz, because 
 I know he has a large order to deliver on the day after 
 to-morrow. And, besides, a gentleman must keep his 
 word even thirty - two in the matter of making 
 cigarettes for other people. But the work on this 
 batch shall be a parting gift of my goodwill to Fis 
 chelowitz, who is an honest fellow and has understood 
 my painful situation all along. To-morrow at this 
 time, I shall be far away. Thirty-three. 
 
 The Count drew a long breath of relief in the 
 anticipation of his release from captivity and hard 
 labour. Vjera dropped her glass tube and her little 
 pieces of paper and looked sadly at him, while he was 
 speaking. 
 
 By the by, observed the Cossack, to-day is 
 
18 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Tuesday. I had quite forgotten. So you really leave 
 us to-morrow. 
 
 Yes. It is all settled at last, and I have had 
 letters. It is to-morrow and this is my last hundred. 
 
 At what time ? inquired Dumnoff, with a rough 
 laugh. Is it to be in the morning or in the afternoon ? 
 
 I do not know, answered the Count, quietly and 
 with an air of conviction. It will certainly be before 
 night. 
 
 Provided you get the news in time to ask us to 
 the feast/ jeered the other, we shall all be as happy 
 as you yourself. 
 
 Thirty -four, said the Count, who had rolled the 
 last cigarette very slowly and thoughtfully. 
 
 Yjera cast an imploring look on Dumnoff, as though 
 beseeching him not to continue his jesting. The rough 
 man, who might have sat for the type of the Eussian 
 mujik, noticed the glance and was silent. 
 
 Who is incredulous enough to disbelieve this 
 time ? asked the Cossack, gravely. Besides, the 
 Count says that he has had letters, so it is certain, at 
 last. 
 
 Love-letters, he means, giggled the insignificant girl, 
 who rejoiced in the name of Anna Schmigjelskova. Then 
 she looked at Yjera as though afraid of her displeasure. 
 
 But Vjera took no notice of the silly speech and 
 sat idle for some minutes, gazing at the Count with an 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 19 
 
 expression in which love, admiration and pity were 
 very oddly mingled. Pale and ill as she looked, there 
 was a ray of light and a movement of life in her face 
 during those few moments. Then she took again her 
 glass tube and her bits of paper and resumed her task 
 of making shells, with a little heave of her thin chest 
 that betrayed the suppression of a sigh. 
 
 The Count finished his second thousand, and 
 arranged the last hundreds neatly with the others, 
 laying them in little heaps and patting the ends with 
 his fingers so that they should present an absolutely 
 symmetrical appearance. Dumnoff plodded on, in his 
 peculiar way, doing the work well and then carelessly 
 tossing it into a basket by his side. He was capable 
 of working fourteen hours at a stretch when there was 
 a prospect of cabbage soup and liquor in the evening. 
 The Cossack cleaned his cutting-block and his broad 
 swivel knife and emptied the cut tobacco into a clean 
 tin box. It was clear that the day s work was almost 
 at an end for all present. At that moment Fischelo- 
 witz entered with jaunty step and smiling face, jingling 
 a quantity of loose silver in his hand. He is a little 
 man, rotund and cheerful, quiet of speech and sunny 
 in manner, with a brown beard and waving dark hair, 
 arranged in the manner dear to barbers apprentices. 
 He has very soft brown eyes, a healthy complexion 
 and a nose the inverse of aquiline, for it curves up- 
 
20 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CRAP. 
 
 wards to its sharp point, as though perpetually snuffing 
 after the pleasant fragrance of his favourite c Dubec 
 otborny. 
 
 Well, my children/ he said, with a slight stammer 
 that somehow lent an additional kindliness to his tone, 
 what has the day s work been ? You first, Herr 
 Graf/ he added, turning to the Count. I suppose 
 that you have made a thousand at least ? 
 
 Fischelowitz possessed in abundance the tact which 
 was lacking in Johann Schmidt, the Cossack. He 
 well knew that the Count had made double the quan 
 tity, but he also knew that the latter enjoyed the 
 small triumph of producing twice what seemed to be 
 expected of him. 
 
 Two thousand, Herr Fischelowitz/ he said, proudly. 
 Then seeing that his employer was counting out the 
 sum of six marks, he made a deprecating gesture, as 
 though refusing all payment. 
 
 No/ he said, with great dignity, and rising from 
 his seat. No. You must allow me, on this occasion, 
 to refuse the honorarium usual under the circum 
 stances. 
 
 And why, my dear Count ? inquired Fischelowitz, 
 shaking the six marks in one hand and the remainder 
 of his money in the other, as though weighing the 
 silver. And why will you refuse me the honour 
 
 The other working people exchanged glances of 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 21 
 
 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. 
 
22 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, i 
 
 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 expression half sad, half 
 curious, and Dumnoff displayed a set of ferocious white 
 teeth as he stupidly grinned from ear to ear. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 FISCHELOWITZ paid each worker for the day s work, in 
 his quick, cheerful way, and each, being paid, passed 
 out through the front shop into the street. Five 
 minutes later the Count was strolling along the Maxi- 
 milians-strasse in the direction of the royal palace. 
 As he walked he drew himself up to the full height of 
 his military figure and looked into the faces of the 
 passers in the way with grave dignity. At that hour 
 there were many people abroad, slim lieutenants in the 
 green uniforms of the Uhlans and in the blue coats 
 and crimson facings of the heavy cavalry, superior 
 officers with silver or gold plated epaulettes, slim 
 maidens and plump matrons, beardless students in 
 bright, coloured caps, and solemn, elderly civilians with 
 great beards and greater spectacles, great Munich 
 burghers and little Munich nobles, gaily dressed child 
 ren of all ages, dogs of every breed from the Saint 
 Bernard to the crooked-jointed Dachs, perambulators not 
 a few and legions of nursery-maids. Most of the 
 people who passed cast a glance at the thoroughbred- 
 
24 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 looking man in the threadbare frock-coat who looked at 
 them all with such an air of quiet superiority, carrying 
 his head so high and putting down his feet with such 
 a firm tread. There were doubtless those among the 
 crowd who saw in the tired face the indications of a 
 life-story not without interest, for the crowd was not, 
 nor ever is, in Munich, lacking in intelligent and 
 observant persons. But in all the multitude there was 
 not one man or woman who knew the name of the 
 individual to whom the face belonged, and there were 
 few who would have risked the respectability of their 
 social position by making the acquaintance of a man 
 so evidently poor, even if the occasion had presented 
 itself. 
 
 But presently a figure was seen moving swiftly 
 through the throng in the direction already taken by 
 the Count, a figure of a type much more familiar to 
 the sight of the Munich stroller, for it was that of a 
 poorly dressed girl with a long plait of red-brown hair, 
 carrying a covered brown straw basket upon one arm 
 and hurrying along with the noiseless tread possible 
 only in the extreme old age of shoes that were never 
 strong. Poor Vjera had been sent by Fischelowitz with 
 a thousand cigarettes to be delivered at one of the 
 hotels. She was generally employed upon like errands, 
 because she was the poorest in the establishment, and 
 those who received the wares gave her a few pence for 
 
n A CIGAKETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 25 
 
 her trouble. She sped quickly onward, until she 
 suddenly found herself close behind the Count. Then 
 she slackened her pace and crept along as noiselessly 
 as possible, her eyes fixed upon him as she walked and 
 evidently doing her best not to overtake him nor to be 
 seen by him. As luck would have it, however, the 
 Count suddenly stood still before the show window of 
 a picture-dealer s shop. A clever painting of a solitary 
 Cossack riding along a stony mountain road, by Josef 
 Brandt, had attracted his attention. Then as he 
 realised that he had looked at the picture a dozen 
 times during the previous week, his eye wandered, and 
 in the reflection of the plate-glass window he caught 
 sight of Vj era s slight form at no great distance from 
 him. He turned sharply upon his heels and met her 
 eyes, taking off his limp hat with a courteous gesture. 
 
 Permit me, he said, laying his hand upon the 
 basket and trying to take it from her. 
 
 Poor Vj era s face flushed suddenly, and her grip 
 tightened upon the straw handle and she refused to 
 let it go. 
 
 No, you shall never do that again, she said, quickly, 
 trying to draw back from him. 
 
 And why not ? Why should I not do you a 
 service ? 
 
 The other day you took it the people stared at you 
 they never stare at me, for I am only a poor girl 
 
26 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 And what are the people or what is their staring 
 to me ? asked the Count, quietly. I am not afraid 
 of being taken for a servant or a porter, because I carry 
 a lady s parcel. Pray give me the basket. 
 
 Oh no, pray let it be/ cried Vjera, in great earnest. 
 1 1 cannot bear to see you with such a thing in your 
 hand. 
 
 They were still standing before the picture-dealer s 
 window, while many people passed along the pavement. 
 In trying to draw away, Vjera found herself suddenly 
 in the stream, and just then a broad-shouldered officer 
 who chanced to be looking the other way came into 
 collision with her, so roughly that she was forced 
 almost into the Count s arms. The latter made a step 
 forward. 
 
 Is it your habit to jostle ladies in that way ? 
 he asked in a sharp tone, addressing the stout lieu 
 tenant. 
 
 The latter muttered something which might be 
 taken for an apology and passed on, having no intention 
 of being drawn into a street quarrel with an odd- 
 looking individual who, from his accent, was evidently 
 a foreigner. The Count s eyes darted an angry glance 
 after the offender, and then he looked again at Vjera. 
 In the little accident he had got possession of the 
 basket. Thereupon he passed it to his left hand and 
 offered Vjera his right arm. 
 
ii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 27 
 
 Did the insolent fellow hurt you ? he asked 
 anxiously, in Polish. 
 
 Oh no only give me my basket ! Vjera s face 
 was painfully flushed. 
 
 No, my dear child, said the Count, gravely. 
 You will not deny me the pleasure of accompanying 
 you and of carrying your burden. Afterwards, if you 
 will, we can take a little walk together, before I see 
 you to your home. 
 
 You are always so kind to me, answered the girl, 
 bending her head, as though to hide her burning 
 cheeks, but submitting at last to his will. 
 
 For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then 
 Vjera showed by a gesture that she wished to cross 
 the street, on the other side of which was situated one 
 of the principal hotels of the city. In front of the 
 entrance Vjera put out her hand entreatingly towards 
 her basket, but the Count took no notice of the attempt 
 and resolutely ascended the steps of the porch by her 
 side. Behind the swinging glass door stood the huge 
 porter amply endowed with that military appearance 
 so characteristic of all men in Germany who wear 
 anything of the nature of an official costume. 
 
 The lady has a package for some one here/ said the 
 Count, holding out the basket. 
 
 For the head waiter, said Vjera, timidly. 
 
 The porter took the basket, set it down, touched 
 
28 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CIIAP. 
 
 the button of an electric bell and silently looked at 
 the pair with the malignant scrutiny which is the pre 
 rogative of servants in their manner with those whom 
 they are privileged to consider as their inferiors. 
 Presently, however, meeting the Count s cold stare, he 
 turned away and strolled up the vestibule. A moment 
 later the head waiter appeared, glorious in a perfectly 
 new evening coat and a phenomenal shirt front. 
 
 Ah, my cigarettes ! he exclaimed briskly, and the 
 Count heard the chink of the nickel pence, as the 
 head waiter inserted two fat white fingers into the 
 pocket of his exceedingly fashionable waistcoat. 
 
 The sight which must follow was one which the 
 Count was anxious not to see. He therefore turned 
 his back and pretended to brush from his sleeve a 
 speck of dust revealed to his searching eye in the 
 strong afternoon light which streamed through the open 
 door. Then Vjera s low-spoken word of thanks and 
 her light tread made him aware that she had received 
 her little gratuity ; he stood politely aside while she 
 passed out, and then went down the half-dozen steps 
 with her. As they began to move up the street, he 
 did not offer her his arm again. 
 
 1 You are so kind, so kind to me, said poor Vjera. 
 How can I ever thank you ! 
 
 Between you and me there is no question of thanks, 
 answered her companion. Or if there is to be such a 
 
n A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 29 
 
 question it should arise in another way. It is for me 
 to thank you/ 
 
 For what ? 
 
 For many things, all of which have proceeded from 
 your kindness of heart and have resulted in making 
 my life bearable during the past months or years. I 
 keep little account of time. How long is it since I 
 have been making cigarettes for Fischelowitz, at the 
 rate of three marks a thousand ? 
 
 Ever since I can remember/ answered Vjera. It 
 is six years since I came to work there as a little girl/ 
 
 Six years ? That is not possible ! You must be 
 mistaken, it cannot be so long/ 
 
 Vjera said nothing, but turned her face away with 
 an expression of pain. 
 
 Yes, it is a long time, since all that happened/ 
 said the Count, thoughtfully. I was a young man then, 
 I am old now/ 
 
 Old ! How can you say anything so untrue ! Vjera 
 exclaimed with considerable indignation. 
 
 Yes, I am old. It is no wonder. We say at home 
 that " strange earth dries without wind." A foreign 
 land will make old bones of a man without the help of 
 years. That is what Germany has done for me. And 
 yet, how much older I should be but for you, dear 
 Vjera ! Shall we sit down here, in this quiet place, 
 under the trees ? You know it is all over to-morrow, 
 
30 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 and I am free at last. I would like to tell you my 
 story. 
 
 Vjera, who was tired of the close atmosphere of the 
 work-room and who?e strength was not enough to let 
 her walk far with pleasure, sat down upon the green 
 bench willingly enough, but the nervous look of pain 
 had not disappeared from her face. 
 
 Is it of any use to tell it to me again 1 she asked, 
 sadly, as she leaned against the painted back-board. 
 
 The Count produced a cigarette and gravely lighted 
 it, before he answered her, and when he spoke he seemed 
 to attach little or no importance to her question. 
 
 You see/ he said, it is all different now, and I can 
 look at it from a different point of view. Formerly 
 when I spoke of it, I am afraid that I spoke bitterly, 
 for, of course, I could not foresee that it could all come 
 right again so soon, so very soon. And now that 
 this weary time is over I can look back upon it with 
 some pride, if with little pleasure save for the part 
 you have played in my life, and may I say it t saving 
 the part I have played in yours/ 
 
 He put out his hand gently and tenderly touched 
 hers, and there was something in the meeting of those 
 two thin, yellow hands, stained with the same daily 
 labour and not meeting for the first time thus, that 
 sent a thrill to the two hearts and that might have 
 brought a look of thoughtful interest into eyes dulled 
 
ii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 31 
 
 and wearied by the ordinary sights of this world. 
 Vjera did not resent the innocent caress, but the colour 
 that came into her face was not of the same hue as 
 that which had burned there when he had insisted 
 upon carrying her basket. This time the blush was 
 not painful to see, but rather shed a faint light of beauty 
 over the plain, pale features. Poor Vjera was happy 
 for a moment. 
 
 I am very glad if I have been anything to you, 
 she said. I would I might have been more. 
 
 More ? I do not see you have been gentle, 
 forbearing, respecting my misfortunes and trying to 
 make others respect them. What more could you have 
 done, or what more could you have been ? 
 
 Vjera was silent, but she softly withdrew her hand 
 from his and gazed at the people in the distance. The 
 Count smoked without speaking, for several minutes, 
 closing his eyes as though revolving a great problem 
 in his mind, then glancing sidelong at his companion s 
 face, hesitating as though about to speak, checking 
 himself and shutting his eyes again in meditation. 
 Holding his cigarette between- his teeth he clasped his 
 fingers together tightly, unclasped them again and let 
 his arms fall on each side of him. At last he turned 
 sharply, as though resolved what to do. 
 
 He believed that he was on the very eve of recover 
 ing a vast fortune and of resuming a high position in 
 
32 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 the world. It was no wonder that there was a struggle 
 in his soul, when at that moment a new complication 
 seemed to present itself. He was indeed sure that 
 he did not love Yjera, and in the brilliant dreams 
 which floated before his half-closed eyes, visions of 
 beautiful and high-born women dazzled him with their 
 smiles and enchanted him by the perfect grace of their 
 movements. To-morrow he might choose his wife 
 among such as they. But to-day Vjera was by his 
 side, poor Vjera, who alone of those he had known 
 during the years of his captivity had stood by him, had 
 felt for him, had given him a sense of reliance in her 
 perfect sincerity and honest affection. And her affec 
 tion had grown into something more ; it had developed 
 into love during the last months. He had seen it, had 
 known it and had done nothing to arrest the growth. 
 Nay, he had done worse. Only a moment ago he 
 had taken her hand in a way which might well mislead 
 an innocent girl. The Count, according to his lights, 
 was the very incarnation of the theory, honour, in the 
 practice, honesty. His path was clear. If he had 
 deceived Vjera in the very smallest accent of word 
 or detail of deed he must make instant reparation. 
 This was the reason why he turned sharply in his 
 seat and looked at her with a look which was certainly 
 kind, but which was, perhaps, more full of determination 
 than of lover-like tenderness. 
 
ii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 33 
 
 Vjera, he said, slowly, pausing on every syllable 
 of his speech, will you be my wife ? 
 
 Vjera looked at him long and shook her head in 
 silence. Instead of blushing, she turned pale, chang 
 ing colour with that suddenness which belongs to 
 delicate or exhausted organisations. The Count did not 
 heed the plain though unspoken negation and continued 
 to speak very slowly and earnestly, choosing his words 
 and rounding his expressions as though he were making 
 a declaration to a young princess instead of asking a 
 poor Polish girl to marry him. He even drew him 
 self together, as it were, with the movement of dignity 
 which was habitual with him, straightening his back, 
 squaring his shoulders and leaning slightly forward in 
 his seat. As he began to speak again, Vjera clasped 
 her hands upon her knees and looked down at the 
 gravel of the public path. 
 
 I am in earnest, he said. * To-morrow, all those 
 rights to which I was born will be restored to me, and I 
 shall enjoy what the world calls a great position. Am 
 I so deeply indebted to the world that I must submit 
 to all its prejudices and traditions ? Has the world 
 given me anything, in exchange for which it becomes 
 my duty to consult its caprices, or its social supersti 
 tions ? Surely not. To whom am I most indebted, 
 to the world which has turned its back on me during 
 a temporary embarrassment and loss of fortune, or to 
 
34 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 my friend Vjera who has been faithfully kind all 
 along ? The question itself is foolish. I owe every 
 thing to Vjera, and nothing to the world. The case is 
 simple, the argument is short and the verdict is plain. 
 I will not take the riches and the dignities which will 
 be mine by this time to-morrow to the feet of some 
 high-born lady who, to-day, would look coldly on me 
 because I am not not quite in the fashion, so far as 
 outward appearance is concerned. But I will and I 
 do offer all, wealth, title, dignity, everything to Vjera. 
 And she shakes her head, and with a single gesture 
 refuses it all. Why ? Has she a reason to give ? 
 An argument to set up ? A sensible ground for her 
 decision ? No, certainly not. 
 
 As he looked gravely towards her averted face, 
 Vjera again shook her head, slowly and thoughtfully, 
 with an air of unalterable determination. He seemed 
 surprised at her obstinacy and watched her in silence 
 for a few moments. 
 
 I see/ he said at last, very sadly. You think 
 that I do not love you. Vjera made no sign, and a 
 long pause followed during which the Count s features 
 expressed great perplexity. 
 
 The day was drawing to its close and the low sun 
 shot level rays through the trees of the Hofgarten, far 
 above the heads of the laughing children, the gossiping 
 nurses and the slowly moving crowd that filled the 
 
ii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 35 
 
 pavement along the drive in front of the palace. 
 Vjera and the Count were seated on a bench which 
 was now already in the shade. The air was beginning 
 to grow chilly, but neither of them heeded the 
 change. 
 
 You think that I do not love you, said the Count 
 again. You are mistaken, deeply mistaken, Vjera. 
 
 The faint, soft colour rose in the poor girl s waxen 
 cheeks, and there was an unaccustomed light in her 
 weary blue eyes as they met his. 
 
 I do not say, continued her companion, that I 
 love you as boys love at twenty. I am past that. I 
 am not a young man any more, and I have had 
 misfortunes such as would have broken the hearts of 
 most men, and of the kind that do not dispose to 
 great love-passion. If my troubles had come to me 
 through the love of a woman it might have been 
 otherwise. As it is do you think that I have no 
 love for you, Vjera ? Do not think that, dear do not 
 let me see that you think it, for it would hurt me 
 There is much for you, much, very much/ 
 
 To-day, answered Vjera, sadly, but not to 
 morrow. 
 
 You are cruel, without meaning to be even un 
 kind, said the Count in an unsteady voice. This time 
 it was Vjera who took his hand in hers and pressed 
 it. 
 
36 A CIGAKETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 God forbid that I should have an unkind thought 
 for you/ she said, very tenderly. 
 
 The Count turned to her again and there was a 
 moisture in his eyes of which he was unconscious. 
 
 Then believe that I do truly love you, Vjera, he 
 answered. Believe that all that there is to give you, 
 I give, and that my all is not a little. I love you, child, 
 in a way ah, well, you have your girlish dreams of 
 love, and it is right that you should have them and it 
 would be very wrong to destroy them. But they 
 shall not be destroyed by me, and surely not by any 
 other man, while I live. I shall grow young again, I 
 will grow young for you, for, in years at least, I am 
 not old. I will be a boy for you, Vjera, and I will 
 love as boys love, but with the strength of a man who 
 has known sorrow and overlived it. You shall not 
 feel that in taking me you are taking a father, a 
 protector, a man to whom your youth seems childhood, 
 and your youthfulness childish folly. No, no I will 
 be more than that to you, I will be all to you that 
 you are to me, and more, and more, each day, till love 
 has made us of one age, of one mind, of one heart. 
 Do you not believe that all this shall be ? Speak, 
 dear. What is there yet behind in your thoughts ? 
 
 I cannot tell. I wish I knew. Vj era s answer 
 was scarcely audible and she turned her face from 
 him. 
 
ii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 37 
 
 And yet there is something, you are keeping 
 something from me, when I have kept nothing from 
 you. Why is it ? Why do you not quite trust me 
 and believe in me ? I can make you happy, now. 
 Yesterday it was different and so it was in all the 
 yesterdays of yesterdays. I had nothing to offer you 
 but myself. 
 
 It were best so/ said Vjera in a low voice. 
 
 The Count was silent. There was something in 
 her manner which he could not understand, or rather, 
 as he fancied, there was something in his own brain 
 which prevented him from understanding a very 
 simple matter, and he grew impatient with himself. 
 At the same time he felt more and more strongly 
 drawn to the young girl at his side. As the sun 
 went down and the evening shadows deepened, he 
 saw more in her face than he had been accustomed to 
 see there. Every line of the pale features so familiar 
 to his sight in his everyday life, reminded him of 
 moments in the recent past when he had been 
 wretchedly unhappy, and when the kindly look in 
 Vjera s face had comforted him and made life seem 
 less unbearable. In his dreary world she alone had 
 shown that she cared whether he lived or died, were 
 insulted or respected, were treated like a dog or like a 
 Christian man. The kindness of his employer was 
 indeed undeniable, but it was of the sort which 
 
38 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 grated upon the sensitive nature of the unfortunate 
 cigarette-maker, for it was in itself vulgarly cheerful 
 assuming that, after all, the Count should be contented 
 with his lot. But Yjera had always seemed to under 
 stand him, to feel for him, to foresee his sensibilities 
 as it were, and to be prepared for them. In a measure 
 appreciable to himself she admired him, and admiration 
 alone can make pity palatable to the proud. In her 
 eyes his constancy under misfortune was as admirable 
 as his misfortunes themselves were worthy of com 
 miseration. In her eyes he was a gentleman, and one 
 who had a right to hold his head high among the best. 
 When he was poorest, he had felt himself to be in her 
 eyes a hero. Are there many men who can resist the 
 charm of the one woman who believes them to be 
 heroic ? Are not most men, too, really better for the 
 trust and faith that is placed in them by others, as the 
 earthen vessel, valueless in itself, becomes a thing of 
 prize and beauty under the loving hand of the artist 
 who draws graceful figures upon it and colours it 
 skilfully, and handles it tenderly ? 
 
 And now the poor man was puzzled and made 
 anxious by the girl s obstinate rejection of his offer. 
 A chilly thought took shape in his mind and pained 
 him exceedingly. 
 
 Vjera, he said at last, I see how it is. You 
 have never loved me. You have only pitied me 
 
n A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 39 
 
 You are good and kind, Yjera, but I wish it had been 
 otherwise. 
 
 He spoke very quietly, in a subdued tone, and the 
 moisture which had been more than once in his eyes 
 since he had sat down beside the young girl, now 
 almost took the shape of a tear. He was wounded in 
 his innocent vanity, in the last stronghold of his fast- 
 fading individuality. But Vjera turned quickly at 
 the words and a momentary fire illuminated her 
 pale blue eyes and dispelled the misty veil that seemed 
 to dull them. 
 
 Whatever you say, do not say that ! she exclaimed. 
 I love you with all my heart I ah, if you only 
 understood, if you only knew, if you only guessed ! 
 
 That is it, answered the Count. If I only could 
 but there is something that passes my understanding. 
 
 The look of pain faded from his face and gave way 
 to a bright smile, so bright, so rare, that it restored in the 
 magic of an instant the freshness of early youth to the 
 weary mask of sorrow. Then he covered his eyes 
 with his hands as though searching his memory for 
 something he could not find. 
 
 What is it ? he asked, after a short pause and 
 looking suddenly at Vjera. It is something I ought 
 to remember and yet something I have quite forgotten. 
 Help me, Vjera, tell me what you are thinking of, and 
 I will explain it all. 
 
40 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I was thinking of this day a week ago/ said 
 Vjera, and a little sob escaped her as she quickly 
 looked away. 
 
 A week ago? Let me see what happened a 
 week ago ? But why should I ask ? Nothing ever 
 happens to me, nothing until now ! And now, oh 
 Vjera, it is you who do not understand, it is you who 
 do not know, who cannot guess. 
 
 As if he had forgotten everything else in the 
 sudden realisation of his return to liberty and fortune, 
 he began to speak quickly and excitedly in a tone 
 louder and clearer than that of his ordinary voice. 
 
 No/ he cried, you can never guess what this 
 change is to me. You can never know what I enjoy 
 in the thought of being myself again, you cannot 
 understand what it is to have been rich and great, 
 and to be poor and wretched and to regain wealth and 
 dignity again by the stroke of a pen in the vibration 
 of a second. And yet it is true, all true, I tell you, 
 to-day, at last, after so much waiting. To-morrow 
 they will come to my lodging to fetch me a court 
 carriage or two, and many officials who will treat me 
 with the old respect I was used to long ago. They 
 will come up my little staircase, bringing money, 
 immense quantities of money, and the papers and the 
 parchments and the seals. How they will stare at 
 my poor lodging, for they have never known that I 
 
ii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 41 
 
 have been so wretched. Yes, one will bring money in 
 a black leathern case I know just how it will look 
 and another will have with him a box full of 
 documents all lawfully mine and a third will bring 
 my orders, that I once wore, and with them the order 
 of Saint Alexander Nevsky and a letter on broad 
 heavy paper, signed Alexander Alexandrovitch, signed 
 by the Tsar himself, Vjera. And I shall go with 
 them to be received in audience by the Prince Regent 
 here, before I leave for Petersburg. And then, after 
 dinner, in the evening, I will get into my special 
 carriage in the express train and my servants will 
 make me comfortable and then away, away, a night, 
 and a day and another night and perhaps a few hours 
 more and I shall be at home at last, in my own great, 
 beautiful home, far out in the glorious country among 
 the woods and the streams and the birds ; and I shall 
 be driven in an open carriage with four horses up from 
 the village through the great avenue of poplars to the 
 grand old house. But before I go in I will go to the 
 tomb yes, I will go to the tomb among the trees, 
 
 and I will say a prayer for my father and- 
 
 Your father ? Vjera started slightly. She had 
 listened to the long catalogue of the poor man s 
 anticipations with a sad, unchanging face, as though 
 she had heard it all before. But at the mention of 
 his father s death she seemed surprised. 
 
42 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Yes. He is dead at last, and my brother died on 
 the same day. I have had letters. There was a 
 disease abroad in the village. They caught it and 
 they died. And now everything is mine, everything, 
 the lands and the houses and the money, all, all mine. 
 But I will say a prayer for them, now that they are 
 dead and I shall never see them again. God knows, 
 they treated me ill when they were alive, but death 
 has them at last/ 
 
 The Count s eyes grew suddenly cold and hard, 
 so that Vjera shuddered as she caught the look of 
 hatred in them. 
 
 Death, death, death ! he cried. Death the judge, 
 the gaoler, the executioner ! He has done justice on 
 them for me, and they will not break loose from the 
 house he has made for them to lie in and to sleep 
 in for ever. And now, friend Death, I am master 
 in their stead, and you must give me time to enjoy the 
 mastership before you serve me likewise. Oh Vjera, 
 the joy, the delight, the ecstasy, the glory of it all ! 
 
 He struck the palms of his lean hands together 
 with the gesture of a boy, and laughed aloud in the 
 sheer overflowing of his heart. But Vjera sat still, 
 silent and thoughtful, beside him, watching him rather 
 anxiously as though she feared lest the excess of his 
 happiness might do him an injury. 
 
 You do not say anything, Vjera. You do not 
 
i A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 43 
 
 seem glad/ he said, suddenly noticing her ex 
 pression. 
 
 I am very glad, indeed I am, she answered, 
 smiling with a great effort. Who would not be glad 
 at the thought of seeing you enjoy your own again ? 
 
 It is not for the money, Vjera ! he exclaimed in 
 a lower and more concentrated tone. It is not really 
 for the money nor for the lands, nor even for the 
 position or the dignity. Do you know what it is that 
 makes me so happy ? I have got the best of it. 
 That is it. It has been a long struggle and a weary 
 one, but I knew I should win, though I never saw 
 how it was to be. When they turned me away from 
 them like a dog, my father and my brother, I faced 
 them on the threshold for the last time and I said to 
 them, " Look you, you have made an outcast of me, 
 and yet I am your son, my father, and your brother, 
 my brother, and you know it. And yet I tell you 
 that when we meet again, I shall be master here, and 
 not you." And so it has turned out, Vjera, for they 
 shall meet me they dead, and I alive. They jeered 
 and laughed, and sent me away with only the clothes 
 I wore, for I would not take their money. I hear 
 their laughter now in my ears but I hear, too, a 
 laugh that is louder and more pitiless than theirs was, 
 for it is the laugh of Death ! 
 
CHAPTEE III 
 
 THE Count rose to his feet as he finished the last 
 sentence. It seemed as though he were oppressed by 
 the inaction to which he was constrained during the 
 last hours of waiting before the great moment, and he 
 moved nervously, like a man anxious to throw off a 
 burden. 
 
 Vjera rose also, with a slow and weary movement. 
 
 It is late/ she said. I must go home. Good 
 night. 
 
 No. I will go with you. I will see you to your 
 door. 
 
 Thank you, she answered, watching his face closely. 
 
 Then the two walked side by side under the lime 
 trees in the deepening evening shadows, to the low arch 
 way by which the road leads out of the Hofgarten on 
 the side of the city. For some minutes neither spoke, 
 but Vjera could hear her companion s quickly drawn, 
 irregular breath. His heart was beating fast and his 
 thoughts were chasing each other through a labyrinth 
 of dreams, inconsequent, unreasonable, but brilliant in 
 
CHAP, in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 45 
 
 the extreme. His head high, his shoulders thrown 
 back, his eyes flashing, his lips tightly closed, the Count 
 marched out with his companion into the broad square. 
 He felt that this had been the last day of his slavery 
 and that the morrow s sun was to rise upon a brighter 
 and a happier period of his life, in which there should 
 be no more poverty, no more manual labour, no more 
 pinching and grinding and tormenting of himself in 
 the hopeless effort at outward and visible respecta 
 bility. Poor Yjera saw in his face what was passing 
 in his mind, but her own expression of sadness did 
 not change. On the contrary, since his last outbreak 
 of triumphant satisfaction she had been more than 
 usually depressed. For a long time the Count did 
 not again notice her low spirits, being absorbed in the 
 contemplation of his own splendid future. At last he 
 seemed to recollect her presence at his side, glanced 
 at her, made as though to say something, checked him 
 self, and began humming snatches from an old opera. 
 But either his musical memory did not serve him, or 
 his humour changed all at once, for he suddenly was 
 silent again, and after glancing once more at Vj era s 
 downcast face his own became very grave. 
 
 He had been brought back to present considerations, 
 and he found himself in one of those dilemmas with 
 which his genuine pride, his innocent and harmless 
 vanity and his innate kindness constantly beset his 
 
46 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 life. He had asked Vjera to marry him, scarcely half 
 an hour earlier, and he now found himself separated 
 from the moment which had given birth to the 
 generous impulse, by a lengthened contemplation of 
 his own immediate return to wealth and importance. 
 
 He was deeply attached to the poor Polish girl, 
 as men shipwrecked upon desert islands grow fond of 
 persons upon whom they could have bestowed no 
 thought in ordinary life. He had grown well accus 
 tomed to his poor existence, and in the surroundings 
 in which he found himself, Vjera was the one being 
 in whom, besides sympathy for his misfortune, he 
 discovered a sensibility rarer than common, and the 
 unconscious development of a natural refinement. 
 There are strange elements to be found in all great 
 cities among the colonies of strangers who make their 
 dwellings therein. Brought together by trouble, they 
 live in tolerance among themselves, and none asks the 
 other the fundamental question of upper society, 
 Whence art thou ? nor does any make of his neighbour 
 the inquiry which rises first to the lips of the man 
 of action, Whither goest thou ? They meet as the 
 seaweed meets on the crest of the wave, of many 
 colours from many distant depths, to intermingle for 
 a time in the motion of the waters, to part company 
 under the driving of the north wind, to be drifted 
 at last, forgetful of each other, by tides and currents 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 47 
 
 which wash the opposite ends of the earth. This is 
 the life of the emigrant, of the exile, of the wanderer 
 among men ; the incongruous elements meet, have brief 
 acquaintance and part, not to meet a,gain. Who shall 
 count the faces that the exile has known, the voices 
 that have been familiar in his ear, the hands that have 
 pressed his ? In every land and in every city, he 
 has met and talked with a score, with scores, with 
 hundreds of men and women all leading the more or 
 less mysterious and uncertain life which has become 
 his own by necessity or by choice. If he be an honest 
 man and poor, a dozen trades have occupied his fingers 
 in half a dozen capitals ; if he be dishonest, a hundred 
 forms and varieties of money -bringing dishonesty are 
 sheathed like arrows in his quiver, to be shot unawares 
 into the crowd of well-to-do and unsuspecting citizens 
 on the borders of whose respectable society the 
 adventurer warily picks his path. 
 
 It is rarely that two persons meet under such 
 circumstances between whom the bond of a real 
 sympathy exists and can develop into lasting friend 
 ship between man and man, or into true love between 
 man and woman. When both feel themselves 
 approaching such a point, they are also unconsciously 
 returning to civilisation, and with the civilising in 
 fluence arises the desire to ask the fatal question, 
 Whence art thou ? or the fear lest the other may 
 
48 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 ask it, and the anxiety to find an answer where there 
 is none that will bear scrutiny. 
 
 It was therefore natural that the Count should feel 
 disturbed at what he had done, in spite of his sincere 
 and honourable wish to abide by his proposal and to 
 make Vjera his wife. He felt that in returning to his 
 own position in the world he owed it in a measure 
 to himself to wed with a maiden of whom he could at 
 least say that she came of honest people. Always 
 centred in his own alternating hopes and fears, and 
 conscious of little in the lives of others, it seemed to 
 him that a great difficulty had suddenly revealed itself 
 to his apprehensions. At the same time, by a self- 
 contradiction familiar to such natures as his, he felt 
 himself more and more strongly drawn to the girl, and 
 more and more strictly bound in honour to marry her. 
 As he thought of this, his habitual contempt of the world 
 and its opinion returned. What had the world done 
 for him ? And if he had felt no obligation to consult 
 it in his poverty, why need he bend to any such 
 slavery in the coming days of his splendour? He 
 stopped suddenly at the corner of the street in which 
 the Polish girl lived. She lodged, with a little sister 
 who was still too young to work, in a room she hired 
 of a respectable Bohemian shoemaker. The latter s 
 wife was of the sour-good kind, whose chief talent lies 
 in giving their kind actions a hard-hearted appearance. 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 49 
 
 Vjera, said the Count, earnestly, I have been talk 
 ing a great deal about myself. You must forgive me, for 
 the news I have received is so very important and makes 
 such a sudden difference in my prospects. But you 
 have not given me the answer I want to my question. 
 Will you be my wife, Vjera, and come with me out of 
 this wretched existence to share my happy life and to 
 make it happier ? Will you ? 
 
 His tone was so sincere and loving that it produced 
 a little storm of evanescent happiness in the girl s 
 heart, and the tears started to her eyes and stained her 
 sallow, waxen cheeks. 
 
 Ah, if it could only be true ! she exclaimed in a 
 voice more than half full of hope, as she quickly 
 brushed away the drops. 
 
 But it is true, indeed it is, answered the Count. 
 Oh, Vjera, do you think I would deceive you ? Do 
 you think I could tell you a story in which there is no 
 truth whatever ? Do not think that of me, Vjera. 
 
 The tears broke out afresh, but from a different 
 source. For some seconds she could not speak. 
 
 Why do you cry so bitterly ? he asked, not 
 understanding at all what was passing. I swear to 
 you it is all true 
 
 It is not that it is not that/ cried Vjera. I 
 know I know that you believe it and I love you so 
 very much 
 
50 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 But then, I do not understand, said the Count in 
 a low voice that expressed his pitiful perplexity. 
 How can I not believe it, when it is all in the letters ? 
 And why should you not believe it, too ? Besides, Vjera 
 dear, it will all be quite clear to-morrow. Of course 
 well, I can understand that having known me poor so 
 long, it must seem strange to you to think of me as 
 very rich. But I shall not be another man, for that. I 
 shall always be the same for you, Vjera, always the same. 
 
 Yes, always the same, sighed the girl under her 
 breath. 
 
 Yes, and so, if you love me to-day, you will love 
 me just as well to-morrow to-morrow, the great day 
 for me. What day will it be ? Let me see to-morrow 
 is Wednesday. 
 
 Wednesday, yes/ repeated Vjera. If only there 
 
 were no to-morrow She checked herself. I 
 
 mean, she added, quickly, if only it could be Thursday, 
 without any day between. 
 
 You are a strange girl, Vjera. I do not know 
 what you are thinking of to-day. But to-morrow you 
 will see. I think they will come for me in the morn 
 ing. You shall see, you shall see. 
 
 Vjera began to move onward and the Count walked 
 by her side, wondering at her manner and tormenting 
 his brain in the vain effort to understand it. In front 
 of her door he held out his hand. 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 51 
 
 Promise me one thing/ lie said, as she laid her 
 fingers in his and looked up at him. Her eyes were 
 still full of tears. 
 
 < What is it ? she asked. 
 
 * Promise that you will be my wife, when you are 
 convinced that all this good fortune is real. You do 
 not believe in it, though I cannot tell why. I 
 only ask that when you are obliged to believe in it, 
 you will do as I ask. 
 
 Vjera hesitated, and as she stood still the hand he 
 held trembled nervously. 
 
 I promise, she said, at last, as though with a great 
 effort. Then, all at once, she covered her eyes and 
 leaned against the door-post. He laid his hand caress 
 ingly upon her shoulder. 
 
 Is it so hard to say ? he asked, tenderly. 
 
 Oh, but if it should ever be indeed true ! she 
 moaned. If it should if it should ! 
 
 What then ? Shall we not be happy together ? 
 Will it not be even pleasant to remember these 
 wretched years ? 
 
 But if it should turn out so oh, how can I ever 
 be a fitting wife for you, how can I learn all that a 
 great lady must think, and do, and say ? I shall be 
 unworthy of you of your new friends, of your new 
 world but then, it cannot really happen. No do 
 not speak of it any more, it hurts me too much good- 
 
52 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 night, good-night ! Let us sleep and forget, and go 
 back to our work in the morning, as though nothing 
 had happened in the morning, to-morrow. Will you ? 
 Then good-night. 
 
 There will be no work to-morrow, he said, returning 
 to his argument. But she broke away and fled from 
 him and disappeared in the dark and narrow staircase. 
 As he stood, he could hear her light tread on the 
 creaking wood of the steps, fainter and fainter in the 
 distance. Then he caught the feeble tinkle of a little 
 bell, the opening and shutting of a door, and he was 
 alone in the gloom of the evening. 
 
 For some minutes he stood still, as though listening 
 for some faint echo from the direction in which Vjera 
 had disappeared, then he slowly and thoughtfully walked 
 away. He had forgotten to eat at dinner-time, and 
 now he forgot that the hour of the second meal had 
 come round. He walked on, not knowing and not 
 caring whither he went, absorbed in the contemplation 
 of the bright pictures which framed themselves in his 
 brain, troubled only by his ever-recurring wonder at 
 Vjera s behaviour. 
 
 Unconsciously, and from sheer force of habit, he 
 threaded the streets in the direction of the tobacconist s 
 shop where so much of his time was spent. If it be 
 not true that the ghosts of the dead haunt places 
 familiar to them in life, yet the superstition is founded 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 53 
 
 upon the instincts of human nature. Men begin to 
 haunt certain spots unconsciously while they are alive, 
 especially those which they are obliged to visit every 
 day and in which they are accustomed to sit, idle or 
 at work, during the greater part of the week. The 
 artist, when he wishes to be completely at rest, re-enters 
 the studio he left but an hour earlier ; the sailor hangs 
 about the port when he is ashore, the shopman cannot 
 resist the temptation to spend an hour among his wares 
 on Sunday, the farmer is irresistibly drawn to the field 
 to while away the time on holidays between dinner 
 and supper. We all of us see more and understand 
 better what we see, in those surroundings most familiar 
 to us, and it is a general law that the average in 
 telligence likes the best that which it understands with 
 the least effort. The mechanical part of us, too, when 
 free from any direct and especial impulse of the mind, 
 does unknowingly what it has been in the habit of 
 doing. Two-thirds of all the physical diseases in the 
 world are caused by the disturbance of the mental 
 habits and are vastly aggravated by the direction of the 
 thoughts to the part afflicted. Idiots and madmen 
 are often phenomenally healthy people, because there 
 is in their case no unnatural effort of the mind to control 
 and manage the body. The Count having bestowed 
 no thought upon the direction of his walk, mechani 
 cally turned towards the scene of his daily labour. 
 
54 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 Considering that he believed himself to have 
 abandoned for ever the irksome employment of rolling 
 tobacco in a piece of parchment in order to slip it into 
 a piece of paper, it might have been supposed that he 
 would be glad to look at anything rather than the 
 glass door of the shop in which he had repeated that 
 operation so many hundreds of thousands of times ; or, 
 at least, it might have been expected that on realising 
 where he was he would be satisfied with a glance of re 
 cognition and would turn away. 
 
 But the Count s fate had ordained otherwise. When 
 he reached the shop the lights were burning brightly in 
 the show window and within. Through the glass door 
 he could see that Fischelowitz was comfortably installed 
 in a chair behind the counter, contentedly smoking one 
 of his own best cigarettes, and smiling happily to him 
 self through the fragrant cloud. If the tobacconist s 
 wife had been present, the Count would have gone 
 away without entering, for he did not like her, and 
 had reason to suspect that she hated him, which was 
 indeed the case. But Akulina was nowhere to be 
 seen, the shop looked bright and cheerful, the Count 
 was tired, he pushed the door and entered. Fische 
 lowitz turned his head without modifying his smile, 
 and seeing who his visitor was nodded familiarly. 
 The Count raised his hat a little from his head and 
 immediately replaced it. 
 
m A CIGARETTE-MAKEK S ROMANCE 55 
 
 Good- evening, Herr Fischelowitz, he said, speaking, 
 as usual, in German. 
 
 Good -evening, Count, answered the tobacconist, 
 cheerfully. Sit down, and light a cigarette. What 
 is the news ? 
 
 Great news with me, for to-morrow, said the other, 
 bending his head as he stooped over the nickel-plated 
 lamp on the counter, in which a tiny flame burned for 
 the convenience of customers. To-morrow, at this 
 time, I shall be on my way to Petersburg. 
 
 Well, I hope so, for your sake, was the good- 
 humoured reply. But I am afraid it will always be 
 to-morrow, Herr Graf. 
 
 The Count shook his head after staring for a few 
 seconds at his employer, and then smoked quietly, as 
 though he attached no weight to the remark. Fische 
 lowitz looked curiously at him, and during a brief 
 moment the smile faded from his face. 
 
 * You have not been long at supper, he remarked, 
 after a pause. The observation was suggested by the 
 condition of his own appetite. 
 
 Supper ? repeated the Count, rather vaguely. 
 I believe I had forgotten all about it. I will go 
 presently. 
 
 The Count is reserving himself for to-morrow/ 
 said an ironical voice in the background. Akulina 
 entered the shop from the workroom, a guttering 
 
56 A CIGARETTE-MAKEli S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 candle in a battered candlestick in one hand, and a 
 number of gaily coloured pasteboard boxes tucked 
 under the other arm. What is the use of eating 
 to-day when there will be so many good things to 
 morrow ? 
 
 Neither Fischelowitz nor the Count vouchsafed 
 any answer to this thrust. For the second time, 
 since the Count had entered, however, the tobacconist 
 wore an expression approaching to gravity. The Count 
 himself kept his composure admirably, only glancing 
 coldly at Akulina, and then looking at his cigarette. 
 Akulina is a broad, fat woman, with a flattened Tartar 
 face, small eyes, good but short teeth, full lips and a 
 dark complexion. She reminds one of an over-fed 
 tabby cat, of doubtful temper, and her voice seems to 
 reach utterance after traversing some thick, soft 
 medium, which lends it an odd sort of guttural rich 
 ness. She moves quietly but heavily and has an 
 Asiatic second sight in the matter of finance. In 
 matters of thrift and foresight her husband places 
 implicit confidence in her judgment. In matters of 
 generosity and kindness implying the use of money, 
 he never consults her. 
 
 It is amazing to see how much people will believe/ 
 she said, putting out her candle and snuffing it with 
 her thumb and forefinger. Then she began to arrange 
 the boxes she had brought, setting them in order upon 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 57 
 
 the shelves. Still neither of the men answered her. 
 But she was not the woman to be reduced to silence 
 by silence. 
 
 I am always telling you that it is all rubbish, she 
 continued, turning a broad expanse of alpaca-covered 
 back upon her audience. I am always telling you 
 that you are no more a count than Fischelowitz is a 
 grand duke, that the whole thing is a foolish imagina 
 tion which you have stuck into your head, as one 
 sticks tobacco into a paper shell. And it ought to be 
 burned out of your head, or starved out, or knocked 
 out, or something, for if it stays there it will addle 
 your brains altogether. Why cannot you see that you 
 are in the world just like other people, and give up 
 all these ridiculous dreams and all this chatter about 
 counts and princes and such like people, of whom you 
 never spoke to one in your life, for all you may say ? 
 
 The Count glanced at the back of Akulina s head, 
 whicli was decently covered by a flattened twist of very 
 shining black hair, and then he looked at Fischelowitz 
 as though to inquire whether the latter would suffer a 
 gentleman to be thus insulted in his presence and on 
 his premises. Fischelowitz seemed embarrassed, and 
 coloured a little. 
 
 You might choose your language a little more care 
 fully, wife, he observed in a rather timid tone. 
 
 And you might choose your friends with a better 
 
58 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 view to your own interests, she answered without 
 hesitation. If you allow this sort of thing to go on, 
 and four children growing up, and you expecting to 
 open another shop this summer why, you had better 
 turn count yourself/ she concluded, triumphantly, and 
 with that nice logical perception peculiar to her 
 kind. 
 
 If you mean to say that the Count s valuable help 
 
 has not been to our advantage began Fischelowitz, 
 
 making a desperate effort to give a more pleasant look 
 to things. 
 
 Oh, I know that, laughed Akulina, scornfully. I 
 know that the Count, as you call him, can make his 
 two thousand a day as well as any one. I am not 
 blind. And I know you, and I know that it is a sort 
 of foolish pleasure to you to employ a count in the 
 work and to pay your money to a count, though he 
 does not earn it any better than any one else, nor any 
 worse, to be just. And I know the Count, and I 
 know his friends who borrow fifty marks of you and 
 pay you back in stuffed dolls with tunes in them. I 
 know you, Christian Gregorovitch at the thought of 
 the lost money Akulina broke at last into her native 
 language and gave the reins to her fury in good 
 Eussian yes, I know you, and him, and his friends 
 and your friends, and I see the good yellow money 
 flying out of the window like a flight of canary birds 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 59 
 
 when the cage is opened, and I see you grinning like 
 Player- Ape over the vile Vienna puppet, and winding 
 up its abominable music as though you were turning 
 the key upon your money in the safe instead of listen 
 ing to the tune of its departure. And then because 
 Akulina has the courage to tell you the truth, and to 
 tell you that your fine Count is no count, and that his 
 friends get from you ten times the money he earns, 
 then you turn on me like a bear, ready to bite off my 
 head, and you tell me to choose my language! Is 
 there no shame in you, Christian Gregorovitch, or is 
 there also no understanding ? Am I the mother of 
 your four children or not ? I would like to ask. I 
 suppose you cannot deny that, whatever else you deny 
 which is true, and you tell me to choose my language ! 
 Da,I will choose my language, in truth ! Da, I will choose 
 out such a swarm of words as ought to sting your ears 
 like hornets, if you had not such a leathery skin and 
 such a soft brain inside it. But why should I ? It 
 is thrown away. There is no shame in you. You 
 see nothing, you care for nothing, you hear no reason, 
 you feel no argument. I will go home and make 
 soup. I am better there than in the shop. Oh yes ! 
 it is always that. Akulina can make good things to 
 eat, and good tea and good punch to drink, and 
 Akulina is the Archangel Michael in the kitchen. 
 But if Akulina says to you, " Save a penny here, do 
 
60 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 not lend more than you have there," Akulina is a fool 
 and must be told to choose her language, lest it be 
 too indelicate for the dandified ears of the high-born 
 gentleman ! I should not wonder if, by choosing her 
 language carefully enough, Akulina ended by making 
 the high-born gentleman understand something after 
 all. His perception cannot possibly be so dull as 
 yours, Christian Gregorovitch, my little husband. 
 
 Akulina paused for breath after her tremendous 
 invective, which, indeed, was only intended by her for 
 the preface of the real discourse, so fertile was her 
 imagination and so thoroughly roused was her elo 
 quence by the sense of injury received. While she 
 was speaking, Fischelowitz, whose terror of his larger 
 half was only relative, had calmly risen and had 
 wound up the Wiener Gigerl to the extreme of the 
 doll s powers, placing it on the counter before him and 
 sitting down before it in anticipation of the amusement 
 he expected to derive from its performance. In the 
 short silence which ensued while Akulina was resting 
 her lungs for a second and more deadly effort, the 
 wretched little musical box made itself heard, clicking 
 and scratching and grinding out a miserable little 
 polka. At the sound, the sunny smile returned to 
 the tobacconist s face. He know that no earthly elo 
 quence, no scathing wit, no brutal reply could possibly 
 exasperate his wife as this must. He resented every- 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 61 
 
 thing she had said, and in his vulgar way he was 
 ashamed that she should have said it before the 
 Count, and now he was glad that by the mere turning 
 of a key he could answer her storm of words in a way 
 to drive her to fury, while at the same time showing 
 his own indifference. As for the Count himself, he 
 had moved nearer to the door and was looking quietly 
 out into the irregularly lighted street, smoking as 
 though he had not heard a word of what had been 
 said. As he stood, it was impossible for either of the 
 others to see his face, and he betrayed no agitation by 
 movement or gesture. 
 
 Akulina turned pale to the lips, as her husband 
 had anticipated. It is probable that the most tragic 
 event conceivable in her existence could not have 
 affected her more powerfully than the twang of the 
 musical box and the twisting and turning of the 
 insolent little wooden head. She came round to 
 the front of the counter with gleaming eyes and 
 clenched fists. 
 
 Stop that thing ! she cried. Stop it, or it will 
 drive me mad/ 
 
 Fischelowitz still smiled, and the doll continued to 
 turn round and round to the tune, while the Count 
 looked out through the open door. Suddenly there 
 was a quick shadow on the brightly lighted floor of 
 the shop, followed instantly by a crash, and then with 
 
62 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 a miserable attempt to finish its tune the little instru 
 ment gave a resounding groan and was silent. Aku- 
 lina had struck the Gigerl such a blow as had sent it 
 flying, pedestal and all, past her husband s head into a 
 dark corner behind the counter. Fischelowitz reddened 
 with anger, and Akulina stood ready to take to flight, 
 glad that the broad counter was between herself and 
 her husband. Her fury had spent itself in one blow 
 and she would have given anything to set the doll up 
 in its place again unharmed. She realised at the same 
 instant that she had probably destroyed any intrinsic 
 value which the thing had possessed, and her face fell 
 wofully. The Count turned slowly where he stood 
 and looked at the couple. 
 
 * Are you going to fight each other ? he inquired 
 in unusually bland tones. 
 
 At the sound of his voice the Eussian woman s 
 anger rose again, glad to find some new object upon 
 which to expend itself and on which to exercise 
 vengeance for the catastrophe its last expression had 
 brought about. She turned savagely upon the Count 
 and shook her plump brown fists in his face. 
 
 It is all your fault ! she exclaimed. What 
 business have you to come between husband and 
 wife with your friends and your cursed dolls, the 
 fiend take them, and you ! Is it for this that 
 Christian Gregorovitch and I have lived together in 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 63 
 
 harmony these ten years and more ? Is it for this 
 that we have lived without a word of anger 
 
 What did you say ? asked Fischelowitz, with an 
 angry laugh. But she did not heed him. 
 
 Without a word of anger between us, these many 
 years ? she continued. Is it for this ? To have our 
 peace destroyed by a couple of Wiener Gigerls, a doll 
 and a sham count ? But it is over now ! It is over, 
 I tell you go, get yourself out of the shop, out of my 
 sight, into the street where you belong ! For honest 
 folks to be harbouring such a fellow as you are, and 
 not you only, but your friends and your rag and your 
 tag ! Fie ! If you stay here long we shall end in 
 dust and feathers ! But you shall not stay here, 
 whatever that soft -brained husband of mine says. 
 You shall go and never come back. Do you think 
 that in all Munich there is no one else who will do 
 the work for three marks a thousand ? Bah ! there 
 are scores, and honest people, too, who call themselves 
 by plain names and speak plainly ! None of your 
 counts and your grand dukes and your Lord-knows- 
 whats ! Go, you adventurer, you disturber of 
 why do you look at me like that ? I have always 
 known the truth about you, and I have never been 
 able to bear the sight of you and never shall. You 
 have deceived my husband, poor man, because he is 
 not as clever as he is good-natured, but you never 
 
64 A CIGARETTE- MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 could deceive me, try as you would, and the Lord 
 knows, you have tried often enough. Pah! You 
 good-for-nothing ! 
 
 The poor Count had drawn back against the well- 
 filled shop and had turned deadly pale as she heaped 
 insult upon insult upon him in her incoherent and 
 foul-mouthed anger. As soon as she paused, exhausted 
 by the effort to find epithets to suit her hatred of him, 
 he went up to the counter where Fischelowitz was 
 sitting, very much disturbed at the course events were 
 taking. 
 
 My dear Count, began the latter, anxious to set 
 matters right, pray do not pay any attention 
 
 I think I had better say good-bye, answered the 
 Count in a low tone. We part on good terms, though 
 you might have said a word for me just now. 
 
 He dare not ! cried Akulina. 
 
 And as for the doll, if you will give it to me, I 
 promise you that you shall have your fifty marks 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Oho ! He knows where to get fifty marks, now ! 
 exclaimed Akulina, viciously. 
 
 Fischelowitz picked up the puppet, which was 
 broken in two in the waist, so that the upper half of 
 the body hung down by the legs, in a limp fashion, 
 held only by the little red coat. The tobacconist 
 wrapped it up in a piece of newspaper without a word 
 
in A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 65 
 
 and handed it to the Count. He felt perhaps that the 
 only atonement he could offer for his wife s brutal 
 conduct was to accede to the request. 
 
 Thank you/ said the Count, taking the thing. 
 On the word of a gentleman you shall have the 
 money before to-morrow night. 
 
 A good riddance of both of them/ snarled Aku- 
 lina, as the Count lifted his hat and then, his head 
 bent more than was his wont, passed out of the 
 shop with the remains of the poor Gigerl under his 
 arm. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE Count had no precise object in view when he 
 hurriedly left the shop with the parcel containing the 
 broken doll. What he most desired for the moment was 
 to withdraw himself from the storm of Akulina s abuse, 
 seeing that he had no means of checking the torrent, 
 nor of exacting satisfaction for the insults received. 
 However he might have acted had the aggressor been 
 a man, he was powerless when attacked by a woman, 
 and he was aware that he had followed the only course 
 which had in it anything of dignity and self-respect. 
 To stand and bandy words and epithets of abuse would 
 have been worse than useless, to treat the tobacconist 
 like a gentleman and to hold him responsible for his 
 wife s language would have been more than absurd. 
 So the Count took the remains of the puppet and went 
 on his way. 
 
 He was not, however, so superior to good and bad 
 treatment as not to feel deeply wounded and thoroughly 
 roused to anger. Perhaps, if he had been already in 
 possession of the fortune and dignity which he expected 
 
CHAP, iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 67 
 
 on the morrow, he might have smiled contemptuously 
 at the virago s noisy wrath, feeling nothing and caring 
 even less what she felt towards him. But he had too 
 long been poor and wretched to bear with equanimity 
 any reference to his wretchedness or his poverty, and 
 he was too painfully conscious of the weight of outward 
 circumstances in determining men s judgments of their 
 fellows not to be stung by the words that had been so 
 angrily applied to him. Moreover, and worst of all, there 
 was the fact that Fischelowitz had really lent the money 
 to a poor countryman who had previously made the 
 acquaintance of the Count, and had by that means 
 induced the tobacconist to help him. It was true, 
 indeed, that the poor Count had himself lent the fellow 
 all he had in his pocket, which meant all that he had 
 in the world, and had been half starved in consequence 
 during a whole week. The man was an idle vagabond 
 of the worst type, with a pitiful tale of woe well worded 
 and logically put together, out of which he made a 
 good livelihood. Nature, as though to favour his 
 designs, had given him a face which excited sympathy, 
 and he had the wit to cover his eyes, his own tell-tale 
 feature, with coloured glasses. He had cheated several 
 scores of persons in the Slav colony of Munich, and 
 had then gone in search of other pastures. How he 
 had obtained possession of the Wiener Gigerl was a 
 mystery as yet unsolved. It had certainly seemed odd 
 
68 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 in the tobacconist s opinion that a man of such outward 
 appearance should have received such an extremely 
 improbable Christmas present, for such the adventurer 
 declared the doll to be, from a rich aunt in Warsaw, 
 who refused to give him a penny of ready money and 
 had caused him to be turned from her doors by her 
 servants when he had last visited her, on the ground 
 that he had joined the Eussian Orthodox Church with 
 out her consent. The facetious young villain had 
 indeed declared that she had sent him the puppet as a 
 piece of scathing irony, illustrative of his character as 
 she conceived it. But though such an illustration 
 would have been apt beyond question, yet it seemed 
 improbable that the aunt would have chosen such a 
 means of impressing it upon her nephew s mind. 
 Fischelowitz, however, asked no questions, and took 
 the Gigerl as payment of the debt. The thing amused 
 him, and it diverted him to construct an imaginary 
 chain of circumstances to explain how the man in the 
 coloured glasses had got possession of it. It was of 
 course wholly inconceivable that even the most accom 
 plished shop-lifter should have carried off an object of 
 such inconvenient proportions from the midst of its 
 fellows and under the very eyes of the vendor. If he 
 had supposed a theft possible, Fischelowitz would 
 never have allowed the doll to remain on his premises 
 a single day. He was too kind-hearted, also, to blame 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 69 
 
 the Count, as his wife did, for having been the pro 
 moter of the loan, for he readily admitted that he 
 would have lent as much, had he made the vagabond s 
 acquaintance under any other circumstances. 
 
 But the Count, since Akulina had expressed her 
 self with so much force and precision, could not look 
 upon the affair in the same light. However Fischelo- 
 witz regarded it, Akulina had made it clear that the 
 Count ought to be held responsible for the loss, and it 
 was not in the nature of such a man, no matter how 
 wretched his own estate, to submit to the imputation 
 of being concerned in borrowing money which was 
 never to be repaid. His natural impulse had been to 
 promise repayment instantly, and as he was expecting 
 to be turned into a rich man on the morrow the en 
 gagement seemed an easy one to keep. It would be 
 more difficult to explain why he wanted to take away 
 the broken puppet with him. Possibly he felt that in 
 removing it from the shop, he was taking with it even 
 the memory of the transaction of which the blame had 
 been so bitterly thrown on him ; or, possibly, he was 
 really attached to the toy for its associations, or, lastly, 
 he may have felt impelled to save it from Akulina s 
 destroying wrath, so far as it yet could be said to be 
 saved. 
 
 As has been said, he had not dined on that day, 
 and he would very probably have forgotten to eat, even 
 
70 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 after being reminded of the meal by the tobacconist, 
 had he not passed, on his way homeward, the obscure 
 restaurant in which he and the other men who worked 
 for Fischelowitz were accustomed to get their food 
 and drink. This fifth-rate eating-house rejoiced in the 
 attractive name of the Green Wreath/ a designation 
 painted in large dusty green Gothic letters upon the grey 
 walls of the dilapidated house in which it was situated. 
 There are not to be found in respectable Munich those 
 dens of filth and drunkenness which belong to greater 
 cities whose vices are in proportion greater also. In 
 Munich the strength of fiery spirits is drowned in 
 oceans of mild beer, a liquid of which the head will 
 stand more than the waist-band and which, instead of 
 exciting to crime, predisposes the consumer to peaceful 
 and lengthened sleep. The worst that can be said of 
 the poorer public-houses in Munich, is that they are 
 frequented by the poorer people, and that as the cus 
 tomers bring less money than elsewhere, there is less 
 drinking in proportion, and a greater demand for large 
 quantities of very filling food at very low rates. As a 
 general rule, such places are clean and decently kept, 
 and the sight of a drunken man in the public room 
 would excite very considerable astonishment, besides 
 entailing upon the culprit a summary expulsion into the 
 street and a rather forcible injunction not to repeat the 
 offence. 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 71 
 
 The four windows of the establishment which opened 
 upon the narrow street were open, for the weather had 
 become sultry even out of doors, and the guests wanted 
 fresh air. At one of these windows the Count saw the 
 heads of Dumnoff and Schmidt. With the instinct of 
 the poor man, the Count felt in his pocket to see 
 whether he had any money, and was somewhat dis 
 turbed to find but a solitary piece of silver, feebly 
 supported on either side by a couple of one -penny 
 pieces. He had forgotten that he had refused to accept 
 his pay for the day s work, and it required an effort of 
 memory to account for the low state of his funds. But 
 what he had with him was sufficient for his wants, 
 and settling his parcel under his arm he ascended the 
 three or four steps which gave access to the inn, and 
 entered the public room. Besides the Eussian and the 
 Cossack, there were three public porters seated at the 
 next table, dressed in their blue blouses, their red cloth 
 caps hanging on the pegs over their heads, all silent 
 and similarly engaged. Each had before him a piece 
 of that national cheese of which the smell may almost 
 be heard, each had lately received a thick, irregularly- 
 shaped hunch of dark bread, and they had one pot of 
 beer and one salt-cellar amongst them. They all had 
 honest German faces, honest blue eyes, horny hands and 
 round shoulders. Another table, in a far corner, was 
 occupied by a poorly-dressed old woman in black, dusty 
 
72 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 and evidently tired. A covered basket stood on a 
 chair at her elbow, she was eating an unwholesome- 
 looking knodel or boiled potato ball, and half a pint 
 of beer stood before her still untouched. As for the 
 Cossack and Dunmoff, they had finished their meal. 
 The former was smoking a cigarette through a mouth 
 piece made by boring out the well-dried leg-bone of a 
 chicken and was drinking nothing. Dumnoff had before 
 him a small glass of the common whisky known as corn- 
 brandy and was trying to give it a flavour resembling 
 the vodka of his native land by stirring pepper into it 
 with the blade of an old pocket-knife. Both looked 
 up, without betraying any surprise, as the Count entered 
 and sat himself down at the end of their oblong table, 
 facing the open window and with his back to the room. 
 A word of greeting passed on each side and the two 
 relapsed into silence, while the Count ordered a sausage 
 with horse-radish of the sour-sweet maiden of five- 
 and-thirty who waited on the guests. The Cossack, 
 always observant of such things, looked at the oddly- 
 shaped package which the Count had brought with 
 him, trying to divine its contents and signally failing 
 in the attempt. Dumnoff, who did not like the Count s 
 gentlemanlike manners and fine speech, sullenly stirred 
 the fiery mixture he was concocting. The colour on 
 his prominent cheek-bones was a little brighter than 
 before supper, but otherwise it was impossible to say 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 73 
 
 that he was the worse for the half-pint of spirits he 
 had certainly absorbed since leaving his work. The 
 man s strong peasant nature was proof against far 
 greater excesses than his purse could afford. 
 
 What is the news ? inquired Johann Schmidt, 
 still eyeing the bundle curiously, and doubtless hoping 
 that the Count would soon inform him of the contents. 
 But the latter saw the look and glanced suspiciously 
 at the questioner. 
 
 No news, that I know of/ he answered. Except 
 for me/ he added, after a pause, and looking dreamily 
 out of the window at a street lamp that was burning 
 opposite. * To-morrow, at this time, I shall be off. 
 
 And where are you going? asked the Cossack, good- 
 humouredly. Are you going for long, if I may ask ? 
 
 Yes yes. I shall never come back to Munich. 
 He had been speaking in German, but noticing that 
 the other guests in the room were silent, and thinking 
 that they might listen, he broke off into Eussian. I 
 shall go home, at last/ he said, his face brightening 
 perceptibly as his visions of wealth again rose before 
 his eyes. I shall go home and rest myself for a long 
 time in the country, and then, next winter, perhaps, 
 I will go to Petersburg. 
 
 Well, well, I wish you a pleasant journey/ said 
 Schmidt. * So there is to be no mistake about the 
 fortune this time ? 
 
74 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 This time ? repeated the Count, as though not 
 understanding. ( Why do you say this time ? 
 
 Because you have so often expected it before, 
 returned the Cossack bluntly, but without malice. 
 
 I do not remember ever saying so/ said the other, 
 evidently searching among his recollections. 
 
 Every Tuesday, growled Dumnoff, sipping his 
 peppery liquor. Every Tuesday since I can re 
 member. 
 
 I think you must be mistaken, said the Count, 
 politely. 
 
 Dumnoff grunted something quite incomprehensible, 
 and which might have been taken for the clearing of 
 his huge throat after the inflaming draught. The 
 Cossack was silent, and his bright eyes looked pityingly 
 at his companion. 
 
 And you have begun to put together your parcels 
 for the journey, I see/ he observed after a time, when 
 the Count had got his morsel of food and was begin 
 ning to eat it. His curiosity gave him no rest. 
 
 Yes/ answered the Count, mysteriously. That is 
 something which I shall probably take with me, as a 
 remembrance of Munich. 
 
 I should not have thought that you needed any 
 thing more than a cigarette to remind you of the place/ 
 remarked Dumnoff. 
 
 The Count smiled faintly, for, considering Dumnoff s 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 75 
 
 natural dulness, the remark had a savour of wit 
 in it. 
 
 That is true, he said. But there are other things 
 which could remind me even more forcibly of my exile. 
 
 < Well, what is it ? Tell us ! cried Dumnoff, im 
 patiently enough, but somewhat softened by the Count s 
 appreciation of his humour. At the same time he put 
 out his broad red hand in the direction of the parcel as 
 though he would see for himself. 
 
 Let it be ! said Schmidt sharply, and Dumnoff 
 withdrew his hand again. He had fallen into the habit 
 of always doing what the Cossack told him to do, obey 
 ing mutely, like a well-trained dog, though he obeyed 
 no one else. The descendant of freemen instinctively 
 lorded it over the descendant of the serf, and the latter 
 as instinctively submitted. 
 
 The Count s temper, however, was singularly change 
 able on this day, for he did not seem to resent Dumnoff s 
 meditated attack upon the package, as he would cer 
 tainly have done under ordinary circumstances. 
 
 If you are so very curious to know what it is, I 
 will tell you, he said. You know the Wiener 
 Gigerl ? 
 
 Of course, answered both men together. 
 
 Well, that is it, in that parcel. 
 
 The Gigerl ! exclaimed the Cossack. Dumnoff only 
 opened his small eyes in stupid amazement. Both 
 
76 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 knew something of the circumstances under which 
 Fischelowitz had come into possession of the doll, and 
 both knew what store the tobacconist set by it. 
 
 Then you have paid the fifty marks ? asked 
 Schmidt, whose curiosity was roused instead of satis 
 fied. 
 
 No. I shall pay the money to-morrow. I have 
 promised to do so. As it chances, it will be con 
 venient. The Count smiled to himself in a meaning 
 way, as though already enjoying the triumph of laying 
 the gold pieces upon the counter under Akulina s flat 
 nose. 
 
 And yet Fischelowitz has already given it to you ! 
 
 He must be very sure of you With his usual 
 
 lack of tact, Schmidt had gone further than he meant 
 to do, but the transaction savoured of the marvellous. 
 
 To be strictly truthful, said the Count, who had a 
 Quixotic fear of misleading in the smallest degree any 
 one to whom he was speaking, to be exactly honest, 
 there is a circumstance which makes it less remarkable 
 that Fischelowitz should have given me the doll at 
 once. 
 
 Of course, of course ! exclaimed the Cossack, 
 anxious to appear credulous out of kindness. Fischelo 
 witz knows as well as you do yourself how safe you 
 are to get the money to-morrow. 
 
 Naturally, replied the Count, with great calmness. 
 
A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 
 
 77 
 
 But besides that, the Gigerl is broken badly broken 
 in the middle, and the musical box is spoiled too. 
 
 Fischelowitz must have been very angry/ observed 
 Dumnoff. 
 
 Not at all. It was his wife. Akulina knocked 
 it from the counter into the farthest corner of the 
 shop. 
 
 Tell us all about it/ said Schmidt, more interested 
 than ever. 
 
 Ah, that that is quite another matter/ answered 
 the Count, reddening perceptibly as he remembered 
 Akulina s furious abuse. 
 
 If you do not, I have no doubt that she will/ said 
 Dumnoff, taking another sip. She always gives the 
 news of you, before you come in the morning, before 
 we have made our first hundred. 
 
 The Count grew redder still, the angry colour 
 mantling in his lean cheeks. He hesitated a moment, 
 and then made up his mind. 
 
 If that is likely to happen/ he cried, I had better 
 tell you the truth myself, instead of giving her an 
 opportunity of distorting it. 
 
 Much better/ said the Cossack, eagerly. One 
 can believe you better than her. 
 
 That is true, at all events/ chimed in Dumuoff, who 
 was only brutal and never malicious. 
 
 1 Well, it happened in this way. Fischelowitz and 
 
78 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAR 
 
 I were talking of to-morrow, I think, when she came in 
 from the back shop, having overheard something we 
 had been saying. Of course she immediately took advan 
 tage of my presence to exercise her wit upon me, a pro 
 ceeding to which I have grown accustomed, seeing that 
 she is only a woman. Then Fischelowitz told her to 
 choose her language, and that started her afresh. It 
 was rather a fine specimen of chosen language that she 
 gave us, for she has a good command of our beautiful 
 mother-tongue. She found very strong words, and she 
 said among other things that it was my fault that her 
 husband had got a Wiener Gigerl for fifty marks of 
 good money. And then Fischelowitz, in his easy way 
 and while she was talking, wound the doll up and set 
 it before him on the counter and smiled at it. But 
 she went on, worse than before, and called me every 
 thing under the sun. Of course I could do nothing 
 but wait until she had finished, for I could not beat 
 her, and I would not let her think that she could 
 drive me away by mere talk, bad as it was. 
 
 What did she call you? asked Dumnoff, with a grin. 
 
 c She called me a good-for-nothing, said the Count, 
 reddening with anger again, so that the veins stood out 
 on his throat above his collar. And she called me, I 
 think, an adventurer. 
 
 Is that all ? laughed Dumnoff. I have been 
 called by worse names than that in my time ! 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 79 
 
 * I have not, answered the Count, with sudden 
 coolness. However, between me and Fischelowitz and 
 the Gigerl, she grew so angry that she struck the only 
 one of us three against whom she dared lift hand. 
 That member of the company chanced to be the un 
 fortunate doll. And then I promised that to-morrow 
 I would pay the money, and I made Fischelowitz give 
 it to me in a piece of newspaper, and there it is. 
 
 What a terrible smash there must have been in 
 the shop ! said Dumnoff. I would like to have seen 
 the lady s face. 
 
 In their Eussian speech, the difference between the 
 original social standing of the three men who now 
 worked as equals, was well defined by their way of 
 speaking of Fischelowitz s wife. To Dumnoff, mujik 
 by origin and by nature, she was barina, the town 
 lady, to the Cossack she was chosjaika, the mistress, 
 the wife of the patron to the Count she was 
 Akulina, and when he addressed her he called her 
 Akulina Feodorovna, adding the derivative of her 
 father s name in accordance with the universal Eussian 
 custom. 
 
 Let us see the doll, said Schmidt, still curious. 
 The Count, whose eating had been interrupted by the 
 telling of his story, pushed the parcel towards the 
 Cossack with one hand, while using his fork with the 
 other. 
 
80 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Johann Schmidt carefully unwrapped the newspapei 
 and exposed the unfortunate Gigerl to view. Then 
 with both hands he set it up before him, raising the 
 limp figure from the waist, and trying to put it into 
 position, until it almost recovered something of its old 
 look of insolence, though the eye-glass was broken and 
 the little white hat sadly battered. The three men 
 contemplated it in silence, and the other guests turned 
 curious glances towards it. Dumnoff, as usual, laughed 
 hoarsely. 
 
 Kather the worse for wear, he observed. 
 
 Kreuzmillionendonner wetter ! That is my Gigerl ! 
 roared a deep German voice across the room. 
 
 The three Eussians started and looked round 
 quickly. One of the porters, a burly man with an 
 angry scowl on his honest face, was already on his legs 
 and was striding towards the table. 
 
 1 That is my Gigerl ! he repeated, laying one heavy 
 hand upon the board, and thrusting the forefinger of 
 the other under the doll s nose. 
 
 Dumnoff stared at him with an expression which 
 showed that he did not in the least understand what 
 was happening. Johann Schmidt s keen black eyes 
 looked wonderingly from the porter to the Count, while 
 the latter leaned back in his chair, contemplating the 
 angry man with a calm surprise which proved how 
 little faith he placed in the assertion of possession. 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 81 
 
 You are under a mistake/ he said, with great 
 politeness. This doll is the property of Herr 
 Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist, and has 
 stood in the window of his shop nearly four months. 
 These gentlemen he waved his hand towards his two 
 companions are well aware of the fact and can 
 vouch 
 
 That is all the same to me/ interrupted the porter. 
 This is the Gigerl which was stolen from me on New 
 Year s eve 
 
 I repeat/ said the Count, with dignity, that you 
 are altogether mistaken. I will trouble you to leave 
 us in peace and to make no more disturbance, where 
 you are evidently in error. 
 
 His coolness exasperated the porter, who seemed 
 very sure of what he asserted. 
 
 That is what we shall see/ he retorted in a 
 menacing tone. Meanwhile it does not occur to me 
 to leave you in peace and to make no more trouble. 
 I tell you that this Gigerl was stolen from me on New 
 Year s eve. I know it well enough, for I had to pay 
 for it. 
 
 How can you prove that this is the one ? 
 inquired the Cossack, who was beginning to lose his 
 temper. 
 
 You. have nothing to say about it/ said the porter, 
 sharply. I have to do with this man he pointed down 
 
82 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 at the Count who has brought the doll here, and 
 pretends to know where it comes from. 
 
 Kerl ! exclaimed the Count, angrily. Fellow ! 
 I am not accustomed to being called "man," or to having 
 my word doubted. You had better be civil/ 
 
 Then it is high time that you grew used to it, 
 returned the porter, growing more and more excited. 
 The police do not overwhelm fellows of your kind with 
 politeness. 
 
 Fellows ? cried the Count, losing his self-control 
 altogether at being called by the name he had just 
 applied to the porter. Without a moment s hesitation, 
 he sprang from his chair, upsetting it behind him, and 
 took the burly German by the throat. 
 
 Call a policeman, Anton ! shouted the latter to one 
 of his companions, as he closed with his antagonist. 
 
 The two other porters had risen from their places 
 as soon as the Count had laid his hands on their 
 friend, and the one who answered to the name of 
 Anton promptly trotted towards the door, his heavy 
 tread making the whole room shake as he ran. The 
 other came up quickly and attacked the Count from 
 behind, when Durnnoff, aroused at last to the pleasant 
 consciousness that a real fight was going on, brought 
 down his clenched fist with such earnestness of pur 
 pose on the top of the second porter s crown that the 
 latter reeled backwards and fell across the Count s 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 83 
 
 chair in an attitude rendered highly uncomfortable by 
 the fact that the said chair had been turned upside 
 down at the beginning of the contest. Having satisfied 
 himself that the blow had taken effect, Dumnoff pro 
 ceeded to the other side of the field of battle, avoiding 
 the quickly moving bodies of the Count and the porter 
 as they wrestled with each other, and the mujik pre 
 pared to deal another sledge-hammer blow, in all 
 respects comparable with the first. A pleasant smile 
 beamed and spread over his broad, bony face as he 
 lifted his fist, and it is comparatively certain that he 
 would have put an effectual end to the struggle, had 
 not Schmidt interfered with the execution of his amiable 
 intentions by catching his arm in mid-air. Even the 
 Cossack s wiry strength could not arrest the descent 
 of the tremendous fist, but he succeeded at least in 
 diverting it from its aim, so that it took effect in the 
 middle of the porter s back, knocking most of the wind 
 out of the man s body and causing a diversion favour 
 able to the Count s security. Schmidt sprang in and 
 separated the combatants. 
 
 There has been enough dancing already/ he said, 
 coolly, as he faced the porter, who was gasping for 
 breath. But if you have not danced enough, I shall 
 be happy to take a turn with you round the room. 
 
 The poor Count would, indeed, have been no match 
 for his adversary without the assistance of his friends. 
 
84 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 He possessed that sort of courage which, when stung 
 into activity by an insult, takes no account whatever 
 of the consequences, and his thin frame was animated 
 by very excitable nerves. But an exceedingly lean 
 diet, and the habit of sitting during many hours in a 
 close atmosphere, rolling tobacco with his fingers, did 
 not constitute such a physical training as to make him 
 a match for a rough fellow whose occupation consisted 
 in tramping long distances and up and down long 
 flights of stairs from morning till night, loaded with 
 more or less heavy burdens. He was now very pale 
 and his heart beat painfully as he endeavoured in 
 stinctively to smooth his long frock-coat, from which 
 a button had been torn out by the roots in a very 
 apparent place, and to settle his starched collar, which 
 at the best of times owed its stability to the secret 
 virtues of a pin, and which at present had made a 
 quarter of a revolution upon itself, so that the stiffly- 
 starched corners, the Count s chief coquetry and pride, 
 had established themselves in an unseemly manner 
 immediately below the left ear. 
 
 Meanwhile, the little restaurant was in an uproar. 
 The host, a thin, pale man in an apron and a shabby 
 embroidered cap, had suddenly appeared from the 
 depths of the taproom, accompanied by his wife, a 
 monstrous, red-faced creature clothed in a grey flannel 
 frock. The porter whom Dumnoff had felled, and who 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 85 
 
 was not altogether stunned, was kicking violently in 
 the attempt to gain his feet among the fallen chairs, a 
 dozen people had come in from the street at the noise 
 of the fight and stood near the door, phlegmatically 
 watching the proceedings, and the poor old woman 
 from the country, who had been supping in the corner, 
 had got her basket on her knees, holding its handle 
 tightly in one hand and with the other grasping her 
 half-finished glass of beer, in terror lest some accident 
 should cause the precious liquid to be spilled, but not 
 calm enough to put it in a place of safety by the 
 simple process of swallowing. 
 
 They are foreigners/ remarked some one in the 
 crowd at the door. 
 
 They are probably Bohemian journeymen, said a 
 tinman who stood in front of the others. It serves 
 them right for interfering with an honest porter. The 
 Bohemian journeymen are detested in Munich on 
 account of their willingness to work for low prices, 
 which perhaps accounted for the tinman s readiness to 
 consider the strangers as worsted in the contest. 
 
 We Germans fear God, and nothing else in the 
 world/ observed a mealy -faced shoemaker, quoting 
 Prince Bismarck s famous speech. 
 
 The man who had wrestled with the Count seemed 
 to have resigned himself to the course of awaiting the 
 police, and leaned back against the table behind him, 
 
86 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 with folded arms, glaring at the Cossack, while the 
 Count was vainly attempting to recover possession of 
 the pin which had fastened his collar, and which he 
 evidently suspected of having slipped down his back, 
 with the total depravity peculiar to all inanimate 
 things when they are most needed. But the second 
 porter, having broken the chair, upset a table covered 
 with unused saucers for beer glasses, and otherwise 
 materially contributed to swell the din and increase 
 the already considerable havoc, had regained his feet 
 and lost no time in making for Dumnoff. The Eussian, 
 enchanted at the prospect of a renewal of hostilities so 
 unfortunately interrupted, met the newcomer half-way, 
 and, each embracing the other with cheerful alacrity, 
 the two heavy men began to stamp and turn round 
 and round with each other like a couple of particularly 
 awkward bears attempting to waltz together. They 
 were very evenly matched for a wrestling bout, for 
 although the German was by a couple of inches the 
 taller of the two, the Eussian had the advantage in 
 breadth of shoulder and length of arm, as well as in 
 the enormous strength of his back. The Cossack, 
 having assured himself that there was to be fair-play, 
 watched the proceedings with evident interest, while 
 the pale-faced host shambled round and round the 
 room, imploring the combatants to respect the reputa 
 tion of his house and to desist, while keeping himself 
 
iv A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 87 
 
 at a safe distance from possible collision with the 
 bodies of the two, as they staggered and strained, and 
 reeled and whirled about. 
 
 The Count at last abandoned the search of the lost 
 pin, and having pulled the front of his collar into a 
 more normal position trusted to luck to keep it there. 
 The table at which the three had originally sat had 
 miraculously escaped upsetting, and on it lay the poor 
 Gigerl, stretched at full length on its back, calm and 
 smiling in the midst of the noise and confusion, like 
 the corpse at an Irish wake after the whisky has 
 begun to take effect. 
 
 The Count now thought it necessary to justify the 
 unfortunate situation in which he found himself, in the 
 judgment of the spectators. 
 
 Gentlemen/ he began, very earnestly and with 
 a dignified gesture, I feel it necessary to explain 
 
 the truth of this But he was interrupted by 
 
 the arrival of a policeman, who pushed his way 
 through the crowd 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 WHAT is this row ? inquired the policeman in his 
 official voice, as he marched into the room. 
 
 The man who was wrestling with Dumnoff was a 
 German and a soldier. At the authoritative words he 
 relaxed his hold and made an effort to free himself, 
 a movement of which the Eussian instantly took 
 advantage by throwing his adversary heavily, upsetting 
 another table and thereby bringing the confusion to 
 its crisis. How far he would have gone if he had 
 been left to himself is uncertain, for the sudden 
 appearance of two more men in green coats, helmets 
 and gold collars so emboldened the spectators of the 
 fight that they advanced in a body just as Dumnoff 
 threw himself upon the first policeman. The Eussian s 
 red face was wet with perspiration, his small eyes were 
 gleaming ferociously and his thick hair hung in 
 tangled locks over his forehead, producing with his 
 fair beard the appearance of a wild animal s mane. 
 But for the timely assistance of his colleagues, the 
 representatives of the law and, most likely, the 
 
CHAP, v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 89 
 
 majority of the spectators would have found them 
 selves in the street in an exceedingly short space 
 of time. But Dumnoff yielded to the inevitable; a 
 couple of well-planted blows delivered by the rescuing 
 party on the sides of his thick skull made him shake 
 his head as a cat does when its nose is sprinkled 
 with water, and the mujik reluctantly relinquished the 
 struggle. At the same time the porter who had 
 claimed the doll came forward and touched his bare 
 head with a military salute. 
 
 What is your name ? asked the first policeman, 
 anxious to get to business. 
 
 Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann number 87, for 
 merly private in the Fourth Artillery, lately messenger 
 in the Thuringer Doll Manufactory. 
 
 Very good, said the policeman, anxious to take 
 the side of his countryman from the first, and certainly 
 justified in doing so by the circumstances. And 
 what is your complaint ? 
 
 That doll, there, on the table, said the porter, 
 was stolen from me on New Year s eve, and now 
 that man he pointed to the Count, who stood stiffly 
 looking on that man has got possession of it. 
 
 And who stole it from you ? inquired the police 
 man with that acuteness in the art of cross-examina 
 tion for which the police are in all countries so justly 
 famous. 
 
90 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Ja, Herr Wachtmeister, if I had known that 
 
 suggested the porter. 
 
 * Of course, of course/ interrupted the other. That 
 man stole the doll from you, you say ? 
 
 Somebody stole it with my basket, as I stopped 
 to drink a measure in the yard of the Hofbrauhaus, 
 and I had to pay for it out of my caution money, and 
 I lost my place into the bargain, and there lies the 
 accursed thing. 
 
 The policeman, apparently quite satisfied with the 
 porter s story, turned upon the Count with a blustering 
 and overbearing manner. 
 
 Now, then/ he said, roughly, give an account 
 of yourself. Who are you and what are you doing 
 here ? But that is a foolish question ; I know 
 already that you are a Bohemian and a journeyman 
 tinker. 
 
 A Bohemian ? And a journeyman tinker ? re 
 peated the Count, almost speechless with anger for a 
 moment. I am neither/ he added, endeavouring to 
 control himself, and settling his refractory collar with 
 one hand. I am a Eussian gentleman. 
 
 A gentleman and a Eussian/ said the policeman, 
 slowly, as though putting no faith in the first state 
 ment and very little in the second. I think I can 
 provide you with a lodging for the night/ he added 
 facetiously. 
 
v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 91 
 
 Slip past me, jump out of the window and run ! 
 whispered the Cossack in the Count s ear, in Eussian. 
 
 What are you saying in your infernal language ? 
 asked the official. 
 
 My friend advised me to run away, said the Count, 
 coolly sitting down, as though he were master of the 
 situation. Unfortunately for me, I was not taught 
 to use my legs in that way when I was a boy/ 
 
 I was/ said the Cossack. Good-evening, Master 
 Policeman. He took his hat from the peg on the 
 wall where it had hung undisturbed throughout the 
 confusion, and bowing gravely to the man in uniform 
 made as though he would go out of the room. 
 
 So, so, not quite so fast, my friend, said the 
 policeman, putting himself in the way. Heigh ! 
 heigh ! Stop him ! Don t let him go/ he bawled, a 
 second later. 
 
 Schmidt had paused a minute, watching his oppor 
 tunity, then, taking a quick step backwards, he had 
 vaulted through the open window with the agility of 
 a cat, and was flying down the empty street at the 
 speed only attainable by that deceptive domestic 
 animal when pressed for time and anxious for its own 
 safety. 
 
 Sobaka ! growled Dumnoff, disgusted at his com 
 panion s defection. 
 
 Either talk in a language that human beings can 
 
92 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 understand, or do not talk at all/ said one of the two 
 men who guarded him. 
 
 Seeing that pursuit was useless, the spokesman of 
 the police turned to the Count, twice as blustering and 
 terrible as before. 
 
 This settles the question/ he said. To the police 
 station you go, you and- your bear-man of an accom 
 plice. Potzbombardendonnerwetter ! You Sapper- 
 mentskerls ! I will teach you to resist the police, to 
 steal dolls and to jump out of windows ! Kow then, 
 right about face march ! 
 
 The Count did not stir from his chair. Dumnoff 
 looked at him as though to ask instructions of a 
 superior. 
 
 * If you can manage one of them, I can take these 
 two/ he said in Eussian. Suiting the action to the 
 word, he suddenly bent down, slipped his arms round 
 the legs of the two policemen, hurled them simultane 
 ously head over heels and then charged the crowd, 
 head downwards, upsetting every one who came in his 
 way, and bursting into the street by sheer superior 
 weight and impetus. An instant later, his shock head 
 appeared at the window through which the Cossack- 
 had escaped. 
 
 Come along ! he shouted to the Count, in his own 
 language. T have locked the street door and they 
 cannot get out. Jump through the window. 
 
v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 93 
 
 Go, my friend/ answered the Count, calmly. 1 
 will not run away. 
 
 You had much better come/ insisted Dumnoff, 
 apparently indifferent to the noise of the crowd as it 
 tried to force open the closed door, and shaking off two 
 or three men who had made their way out into the 
 street with him. He held the key in one hand, and 
 his assailants had small chance of getting it away. 
 
 You will not come ? he repeated. But the 
 Count shook his head, within the room. 
 
 Then I will not run away either/ said Dumnoff, the 
 good side of his dull nature showing itself at last. 
 With the utmost indifference to consequences he 
 returned to the door, unlocked it, and strode through 
 the midst of the people, who made way readily enough 
 before him, after their late painful experience of his 
 manner of making way for himself. 
 
 I have changed my mind/ he said, in German, 
 quietly placing himself between his late keepers, who 
 were alternately rubbing themselves and brushing the 
 dust off each other s clothes after their tumble. 
 
 In the astonished silence which succeeded Dumnoff s 
 return, the Count s voice was heard again. 
 
 I am both anxious and ready to explain every 
 thing, if you will do me the civility to listen/ he said. 
 The doll is the property of Herr Fischelowitz, the 
 well-known tobacconist 
 
94 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 We shall see presently what you have to say for 
 yourself, interrupted the policeman. We have had 
 enough of these devilish fellows. Come, put them in 
 handcuffs and off with them. And you three gentle 
 men, he added, turning to the three porters, will have 
 the goodness to accompany us to the station, in order 
 to give your evidence. 
 
 But my furniture and my beer saucers ! ex 
 claimed the pallid host, suddenly remembering his 
 losses. Who is to pay for them ? 
 
 The Count answered the question for him. 
 
 You, Master Host, who know us and have had 
 our regular custom for years, but who have not dared 
 to say a word in our defence throughout this disgrace 
 ful affair, you, I say, deserve to lose all that you have 
 lost. Nevertheless, I can assure you that I will my 
 self pay for what has been broken. 
 
 The host was not much consoled by this magnanimous 
 promise, which was received with jeers by the crowd. 
 There was no time, however, to discuss the question. 
 Dumnoff had quietly submitted his two huge fists to the 
 handcuffs and a second pair was produced, to fit the 
 Count. At this indignity he drew himself up proudly. 
 
 Have I resisted the authority, or attempted to run 
 away ? he inquired with flashing eyes. 
 
 The policeman had nothing to say to this very just 
 question. 
 
95 
 
 Then I advise you to consider what you are doing. 
 In spite of my appearance, which, I admit, is at present 
 somewhat disorderly, I am a Eussian nobleman, as you 
 will discover so soon as I am submitted to a properly 
 conducted examination in the presence of your officers. 
 I have not the least intention of running away, and if 
 this doll was stolen, I was not connected in any way 
 with the theft. Since I respect the authorities, I 
 insist upon being respected by them, and if I am 
 treated in a degrading manner in spite of my protests, 
 there are those in Munich who will bring the case to 
 proper notice in my own country. I am ready to 
 accompany you quietly wherever you choose to show 
 me the way. 
 
 Something in his manner impressed the officials 
 with the possible truth of his words. They looked at 
 each other and nodded. 
 
 Very well/ said the one who was conducting the 
 arrest. 
 
 Moreover, said the Count, I crave permission 
 to carry myself the object of contention, until the 
 other claimant has established his right of posses 
 sion. 
 
 So saying the Count took the broken Gigerl from 
 the table where it lay, and carrying it upon his hands 
 before him, like a baby, he solemnly walked in the 
 direction of the door, thus heading the procession, 
 
96 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 which was accompanied into the street by the idlers 
 who had collected inside. 
 
 God be thanked, said the old woman in the corner 
 devoutly, I have yet my beer ! 
 
 And to think that only one of them has paid for 
 his supper/ moaned the pale-faced innkeeper, sitting 
 down upon a chair and contemplating the wreck of his 
 belongings with a haggard eye. The Gigerl-night 
 was remembered for many a long year in the Green 
 Wreath Inn. 
 
 At the police station the arresting party told their 
 own story in their own way, very much to the dis 
 advantage of the Eussians and very much in favour of 
 the porters and of the officials themselves. The latter, 
 indeed, enlarged so much upon the atrocities per 
 petrated by Dumnoff as to weary the superior officer. 
 The Cossack having escaped, the policemen did not 
 mention him. The officer glanced at Dumnoff. 
 
 Your name ? he inquired. 
 
 Victor Ivanowitch Dumnoff. 
 
 Occupation ? 
 
 Cigarette-maker in the manufactory of Christian 
 Fischelowitz. 
 
 Lock him up/ said the officer. Resisting the 
 police in the execution of an arrest/ he added, speaking 
 to the scribe at his elbow. 
 
 Your name ? he continued, addressing the Count. 
 
y A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 97 
 
 Boris Michaelovitch, Count Skariatine. 
 
 Count ? repeated the officer. We shall see. 
 Occupation ? 
 
 I have been occupied in the manufacture of 
 cigarettes/ answered the Count. But as I was only 
 engaged in this during a period of temporary embar 
 rassment from which I shall be relieved to-morrow, I 
 may be described as having no particular occupation. 
 
 The officer stared incredulously for a moment and 
 then nodded to the scribe in token that he was to write 
 down what was said. 
 
 Charged with having stolen a doll, is that it ? 
 He turned to the policeman in charge. 
 
 Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann. 
 
 May it please you, Herr Hauptmann, I did not say 
 that/ put in the porter, coming forward. 
 
 Who are you ? 
 
 The man from whom the doll was stolen. Jacob 
 Goggelmann, Dienstmann number 8*7, formerly 
 private in the Fourth Artillery, lately messenger in 
 the Thiiringer Doll Manufactory. 
 
 1 When was the doll stolen ? 
 
 Last New Year s eve/ answered the porter. 
 
 And you have not seen it until to-day ? 
 
 No, Herr Hauptmann/ 
 
 Then how do you know it is the same one ? I 
 suppose it is not the only doll of its kind in Munich. 
 
98 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I am sure of it. I was a messenger in the shop, 
 Herr Hauptmann, and I knew everything there, just 
 as though I had been one of the young ladies who 
 serve the customers. Besides, you will find my name 
 written in pencil under the pedestal. 
 
 That is another matter/ said the officer, taking the 
 Gigerl and holding it upside down to the gaslight. 
 The reversing of the thing s natural position produced 
 some mysterious effect upon the musical box, and the 
 tune which had been so rudely interrupted by Akulina s 
 well-aimed blow, suddenly began again from the point 
 at which it had stopped, continuing for a few bars and 
 then coming to an end with a sharp twang and a little 
 click. The policemen tittered audibly, and even the 
 captain smiled faintly in his big yellow beard. Then 
 he knit his brows as he deciphered something which 
 was written on the pinewood under the base. 
 
 You should have said so at once, he observed. 
 1 Your name is there, as you assert. 
 
 It was written to show that I was to take it. I 
 had it in a basket with other things. I put it down a 
 moment in the yard of the Hofbrauhaus, and when I 
 came back the basket was gone. 
 
 And what do you know about it ? The question 
 was addressed to the Count. 
 
 Seeing that the porter is evidently right/ said the 
 Count, covering with his hat the point from which the 
 
v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 99 
 
 button had been torn, and holding the other hand rather 
 nervously to his throat, as though trying to keep him 
 self from falling to pieces, I have nothing more to 
 say. I will not be accused of inculpating any one in 
 this disastrous affair. I will only say that the doll 
 has stood since early in the year in the show window 
 of Christian Fischelowitz, the tobacconist, who cer 
 tainly had no knowledge of the way in which it was 
 obtained by the person who brought it to him. 
 
 He is an extremely respectable person/ observed 
 the officer. If you can prove what you say, I will 
 not detain you further. Have you any witness here ? 
 
 There is Herr Dumnoff, said the Count. The 
 officer smiled and perpetrated an official jest. 
 
 Herr Dumnoff has given evidence of great strength, 
 but owing to his peculiar situation at the present time, 
 I cannot trust to the strength of his evidence/ 
 
 The policemen laughed respectfully. 
 
 Have you no one else ? asked the officer. 
 
 Herr Fischelowitz will willingly vouch for what I say/ 
 
 At this hour, Herr Fischelowitz is doubtless asleep, 
 and would certainly be justified in refusing to come 
 here out of mere complaisance. I am afraid, Count 
 Skariatine, that I must have the honour of being your 
 host until morning/ 
 
 It is impossible to describe our relative positions 
 with greater courtesy/ answered the Count, gravely 
 
100 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE OHAP. 
 
 and not taking the least notice of the officer s ironical 
 tone. The latter looked at the speaker curiously and 
 then suddenly changed his manner. He was convinced 
 that he was speaking with a gentleman. 
 
 I regret that I am obliged to put you to such 
 inconvenience/ he said, politely. Treat the gentleman 
 with every consideration/ he added, addressing the 
 policemen in a tone of authority, and let me have no 
 complaints of unnecessary rudeness either. 
 
 I thank you, Herr Hauptmann/ said the Count, 
 simply. 
 
 Thus was the Count deprived of his liberty on the 
 very eve of his return to all the brilliant advantages 
 of wealth and social station. It was certainly a most 
 unfortunate train of circumstances which had led him 
 by such quick stages from his parting with Vjera to 
 the wooden bench and the board pillow of the police- 
 station. It looked as though the Gigerl were possessed 
 of an evil spirit determined to work out the Count s 
 destruction, as though the wretched adventurer who 
 had first stolen it and palmed it off upon Fischelowitz 
 had laid a curse upon it, whereby it was destined to breed 
 dissension and strife wherever it remained and to the 
 direct injury of whomsoever chanced to possess it for 
 the time being. It had been the cause of serious dis 
 aster to the porter in the first instance, it had next 
 represented to Fischelowitz a dead loss in money of 
 
v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 101 
 
 fifty marks, it had become a thorn in the side to Akulina, 
 it had led to one of the most violent quarrels she had 
 ever engaged in with her husband, its limp and broken 
 form had cost much broken crockery and some broken 
 furniture to the host of the Green Wreath Inn/ had been 
 the cause of several ponderous blows dealt and received 
 by Dumnoff, had produced the violent fall, upon a hard 
 board floor, of a porter and two policemen and had 
 ultimately brought the Count to prison for the night. 
 Its value had become very great, for it had been paid 
 for twice over, once by the man from whom it had 
 been stolen, by the forfeiture of his caution money, 
 and once by Fischelowitz in the sum of fifty marks lent 
 to an adventurer ; furthermore, the Count had solemnly 
 pledged his word as a gentleman to pay for it a third 
 time on the morrow, he having in his worldly posses 
 sion the sum of one silver mark and two German 
 pennies at the time of entering into the engagement. 
 The actual sum of money paid and promised to be paid 
 on the body of the now ruined Gigerl, now amounted, 
 with interest, to more than four times its original value, 
 thus constituting one of those interesting problems 
 in real and comparative value so interesting to the 
 ingenuous political economist, who believes that all 
 value can be traced to supply and demand. Now, 
 although the Gigerl was but a single doll, the supply 
 of him, so to speak, had been surprisingly abundant, 
 
102 A CIGAKETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 and the demand, if represented by the desire of any one 
 person concerned to possess him, may be represented 
 by the smallest of zeros. The consideration of so intri 
 cate a question belongs neither to the inventor of 
 fiction nor to the historian of facts, and may therefore 
 be abandoned to the political economist, who may, 
 perhaps, be said to partake of the nature of both while 
 possessing the virtues of neither. 
 
 The Count was in prison, therefore, on the eve of 
 his return to splendour, and his companion in captivity 
 was Dumnoff the mujik. They found themselves in a 
 well-ventilated room, having high grated windows, 
 through which the stars were visible, and dimly 
 lighted by a small gas flame which burned in a lantern 
 of white ground glass. The place was abundantly, if 
 not luxuriously, furnished with flat wooden pallets, 
 each having at the head a slanting piece of board 
 supposed to do duty for a pillow. Outside the open 
 door a policeman paced the broad passage, a man taken 
 from the mounted detachment and whose scabbard and 
 spurs clattered and jingled, hour after hour, as he 
 walked. The sound produced something half rhyth 
 mical, like a broken tune in search of itself, and the 
 change of sentinels made no perceptible difference in 
 the regular nature of the unceasing noise. 
 
 Dumnoff, relieved of his handcuffs, stretched himself 
 upon the pallet assigned to him, clasped his hands 
 
v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 103 
 
 under the back of his head, and stared at the ceiling. 
 The Count sat upon the edge of his board, crossing one 
 knee over the other and looking at his nails, or trying 
 to look at them in the insufficient light. In some 
 distant part of the building a door was occasionally 
 opened and shut, and the slight concussion sent long 
 echoes down the stone passages. The Count sighed 
 audibly. 
 
 It is not so bad, after all, remarked Dumnoff. I 
 did not expect to end the evening so comfort 
 ably/ 
 
 It is bad enough, said the Count. He produced 
 a crumpled piece of newspaper which contained a little 
 tobacco, and rolled a cigarette thoughtfully. It is bad 
 enough/ he repeated as he began to smoke. 
 
 It would have been very easy to get away, if you 
 had done like that brute of a Schmidt who ran away and 
 left us. 
 
 I do not think Schmidt is a brute, observed the 
 other, blowing a huge ring of white smoke out into the 
 dusk. 
 
 I did not think so either. But I had arranged it 
 all very well for you to get away only you would not. 
 You see, by an accident, the key was outside the door, 
 so I kicked the people back and locked it. It would 
 have taken a quarter of an hour for them to open it, 
 and if you had only jumped 
 
104 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 He turned his head, and glanced at the Count s 
 spare, sinewy figure. 
 
 You are light, too/ he continued, and you could 
 not have hurt yourself. I cannot understand why you 
 stayed. 
 
 Dumnoff, my friend, said the Count, gravely, we 
 look at things in a different way. It is my duty to 
 tell you that I think you behaved in the most 
 honourable manner, under the circumstances, and I am 
 deeply indebted to you for the gallant way in which 
 you came back to stand by me, when you were yourself 
 free. In a nobler warfare, such an action would have 
 been rewarded with a cross of honour, as it truly 
 deserved. It is true, as well, that you were not so 
 intimately connected with the main question at stake, 
 as I was, since it was I who was suspected of being in 
 possession of unlawfully gotten goods. You were con 
 sequently, I think, at liberty to take your freedom if 
 you could get it, without consulting your conscience 
 further. Now my position was, and is, very different. 
 I do not speak of any personal prejudice against the 
 mere act of running away, considered as an immediate 
 means of escape from disagreeable circumstances, with 
 the hope of ultimate immunity from all unpleasant 
 consequences. That is a matter of early education. 
 
 I had very little early education, observed Dumnoff, 
 And none at all afterwards. 
 
v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 105 
 
 My friend, it is not for you and me to enter into the 
 history of our misfortunes. We have met in the vat of 
 poverty to be seethed alike in the brew of unhappiness. 
 We have sat at the same daily labour, we have shared 
 often the same fare, but there is that in each of us 
 which we can keep sacred from the contamination of 
 confidence, and which will withstand even the thrusts 
 of poverty. I mean our individual selves, the better 
 part of us, the nobler element which has suffered, as 
 distinguished from the grosser, which may yet enjoy. 
 But I am wandering a little. I am afraid I sometimes 
 do. I return to the point. For me to take advantage 
 of your generous attempt to free me would have been 
 to act as though I had a moral cause for flight. In 
 other words, it would have been to acknowledge that I 
 had committed some dishonourable action. 1 
 
 * It seems to me that to get away would have been 
 the best way out of it. They would not have caught 
 you if you had trusted to me, and if they did not 
 catch you they could not prove anything against you. 
 
 1 The suspicion would have remained, and the dis 
 grace in my own eyes/ answered the Count. The ques 
 tion of physical fear is very different. I have been 
 told that it depends upon the nerves and the action of 
 the heart, and that courage is greatly increased by 
 the presence of nourishment in the stomach. The same 
 cannot be said of moral bravery, which proceeds more 
 
106 A CIGARETTE-MAKEK S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 from the fear of seeming contemptible in our own eyes 
 than from the wish to seem honourable in the estima 
 tion of others. 
 
 * I daresay/ said Dumnoff, who was growing sleepy 
 and who understood very little of his companion s 
 homily. 
 
 Precisely/ replied the latter. And yet even the 
 question of physical courage is very complicated in the 
 present case. It cannot be said, for instance, that you 
 ran away from physical fear, after giving proof of such 
 astonishing physical superiority. Your deeds this 
 evening make the labours of Hercules dwindle to 
 the proportions of mere mountebank s tricks. 
 
 Was anybody badly injured ? asked Dumnoff, 
 suddenly aroused by the pleasing recollections of the 
 contest. 
 
 I believe not seriously ; I think I saw everybody 
 whom you upset get on his feet sooner or later. 
 
 Well/ said Dumnoff with a sigh, it cannot be 
 helped. I did my best. 
 
 I should think that you would be glad/ suggested 
 the Count. You showed your prowess without any 
 fatal result. 
 
 Anything for a change in this dull life/ grumbled 
 the peasant with an air of dissatisfaction. 
 
 With such a prospect of immediate change before 
 me, I suppose I ought not to blame your longing for 
 
v A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 107 
 
 excitement. Nevertheless I consider it fortunate that 
 nothing worse happened. 
 
 You might take me with you to Kussia, said 
 Dumnoff, with a short laugh. That would be an excite 
 ment, at least. 
 
 After the way in which you have stood by me this 
 evening, I will not refuse you anything. If you wish 
 it, I will take you with me. I take it for granted 
 that you are not prevented by any especial reason from 
 entering our country. 
 
 Not that I am aware of, laughed Dumnoff. Do 
 you know how I got to Germany ? A gentleman from 
 our part of the country brought me with him as coach 
 man. One day the horses ran away in Baden-Baden, 
 and he turned me out of the house. 
 
 That was very inconsiderate of him, observed the 
 Count. 
 
 It is true that both the horses were killed, said 
 Dumnoff, thoughtfully. And the prince broke his arm, 
 and the carriage was in good condition for fire 
 wood, and possibly I was a little gay just a little 
 though I was so much upset by the accident that 
 I could not remember exactly what happened before. 
 Still 
 
 Your conduct on that particular day seems to have 
 left much to be desired, remarked the Count with 
 some austerity. 
 
108 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 It has been my bad luck to be in a great many 
 accidents/ said the other. But that one was remark 
 able. As far as I can recollect, we drove into the 
 Grand Duke s four-in-hand on one side and drove out 
 of it on the other. I never drove through a Grand 
 Duke s equipage on any other occasion. It was lucky 
 that his Serenity did not happen to be in it just at 
 the time. There you have my history in a nutshell. 
 As you say you will take me with you, I thought you 
 ought to know. 
 
 * Certainly, certainly, answered the Count, vaguely. 
 * I will take you with me but not as coachman, I 
 think, Dumnoff. We may find some more favourable 
 sphere for your great physical strength. 
 
 Anything you like. It is a good joke to dream 
 of such a journey, is it not ? Especially when one is 
 locked up for the night in the police-station. 
 
 It is certainly a relief to contemplate the prospect 
 of such a change to-morrow, said the Count, his ex 
 pression brightening in the gloom. 
 
 For a few moments there was silence between the 
 two men. Dumnoff s small eyes fixed themselves on 
 the shadowy outlines of his companion s face, as though 
 trying to solve a problem far too complicated for his 
 dull intellect. 
 
 I wonder whether you are really mad, he said 
 slowly, after a prolonged mental effort. 
 
T A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 109 
 
 The Count started slightly and stared at the ex- 
 coachman with a frightened look. 
 
 Mad ? he repeated, nervously Who says I am 
 mad ? Why do you ask the question ? 
 
 Most people say so/ replied the other, evidently 
 without any intention of giving pain. Everybody 
 who works with us thinks so. 
 
 Everybody? Everybody? I think you are dream 
 ing, Dumnoff. What do you mean ? 
 
 I mean that they think so because you have those 
 queer fits of believing yourself a rich count every 
 week, from Tuesday night till Thursday morning. 
 Schmidt was saying only yesterday to poor Vjera 
 
 Vjera ? Does she believe it too V asked the Count 
 in an unsteady voice, not heeding the rest of the 
 speech. 
 
 1 Of course, said Dumnoff, carelessly. Schmidt was 
 saying to me only yesterday that you were going to 
 have a worse attack of it than usual because you were 
 so silent. 
 
 Vjera, too ! repeated the Count in a low voice. 
 
 And no one ever told me He passed his hand 
 
 over his eyes. 
 
 Tell me Dumnoff began in the tone of jocular 
 familiarity which he considered confidential tell 
 me the whole thing is just a joke of yours to amuse 
 us all, is it not ? You do not really believe that you 
 
110 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 7 
 
 are a count, any more than I really believe that you 
 are mad, you know. You do not act like a madman, 
 except when you let the police catch you and lock 
 you up for the night, instead of running away like a 
 sensible man. 
 
 The Count s face grew bright again all at once. 
 In the present state of his hopes no form of doubt 
 seemed able to take a permanent hold of him. 
 
 ~No, I am not mad, he said. But on the other 
 hand, Dumnoff, it is my conviction that you are exceed 
 ingly drunk. No other hypothesis can account for your 
 very singular remarks about me. 
 
 Oh, I am drunk, am I ? laughed the peasant. 
 It is very likely, and in that case I had better go to 
 sleep. Good-night, and do not forget that you are to 
 take me with you to Eussia. 
 
 I will not forget, said the Count. 
 Dumnoff stretched his heavy limbs on the wooden 
 pallet, rolled his great head once or twice from side to 
 side until his fur -like hair made something like a 
 cushion and then, in the course of three minutes, fell 
 fast asleep. 
 
 The Count sat upright in his place, drumming with 
 his fingers upon one knee. 
 
 It is a wonder that I am not mad, he said to 
 himself. But Yjera never thought it of me and 
 that fellow is evidently the worse for liquor. 
 
CHAPTEE VI 
 
 JOHANN SCHMIDT had not fled from the scene of action 
 out of any consideration for his personal safety. He 
 was, indeed, a braver man than Dumnoff, in proportion 
 as he was more intelligent, and though of a very dif 
 ferent temper, by no means averse to a fight if it came 
 into his way. He had foreseen what was sure to 
 happen, and had realised sooner than any one else that 
 the only person who could set everything straight was 
 Fischelowitz himself. So soon as he was clear of 
 pursuit, therefore, he turned in the direction of the 
 tobacconist s dwelling, walking as quickly as he 
 could where there were many people and running at 
 the top of his speed through such empty by-streets as 
 lay in the direct line of his course. He rushed up 
 the three flights of steps and rang sharply at the door. 
 Akulina s unmistakable step was heard in the pass 
 age a moment later. Schmidt would have preferred 
 that Fischelowitz should have come himself, though he 
 managed to live on very good terms with Akulina. 
 Though far from tactful he guessed that in a matter 
 
112 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 concerning the Count, the tobacconist would prove 
 more obliging than his wife. 
 
 What is the matter ? inquired the mistress of the 
 house, opening the door wide after she had recognised 
 the Cossack in the feeble light of the staircase, by look 
 ing through the little hole in the panel. 
 
 Good -evening, Frau Fischelowitz, said Schmidt, 
 trying to appear as calm and collected as possible. 
 I would like to speak to your husband upon a little 
 matter of business. 
 
 He is not at home yet. I left him in the shop. 
 
 Almost before the words were out of her mouth, 
 Schmidt had turned and was running down the stairs, 
 two at a time. Akulina called him back. 
 
 Wait a minute ! she cried, advancing to the hand 
 rail on the landing. What in the world are you in 
 such a hurry about ? 
 
 Oh nothing nothing especial, answered the 
 man, suddenly stopping and looking up. 
 
 Akulina set her fat hands on her hips and held 
 her head a little on one side. She had plenty of 
 curiosity in her composition. 
 
 Well, I must say, she observed, for a man who 
 is not in a hurry about anything, you are uncommonly 
 brisk with your feet. If it is only a matter of business, 
 I daresay I will do as well as my husband. 
 
 Oh, I daresay, admitted Schmidt, scratching his 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 113 
 
 head. But this is rather a personal matter of business, 
 you see. 
 
 And you mean that you want some money, I 
 suppose/ suggested Akulina, at a venture. 
 
 No, no, not at all no money at all. It is not a 
 question of money. He hoped to satisfy her by a 
 statement which was never without charm in her ears. 
 But Akulina was not satisfied ; on the contrary, she 
 began to suspect that something serious might be the 
 matter, for she could see Schmidt s face better now, 
 as he looked up to her, facing the gaslight that burned 
 above her own head. Having been violently angry 
 not more than an hour or two earlier, her nerves were 
 not altogether calmed, and the memory of the scene in 
 the shop was still vividly present. There was no 
 knowing what the Count might not have done, in 
 retaliation for the verbal injuries she had heaped upon 
 him, and her quick instinct connected Schmidt s un 
 usually anxious appearance and evident haste to be off, 
 with some new event in which the Count had played 
 a part. 
 
 Have you seen the Count ? she inquired, just as 
 Schmidt was beginning to move again. 
 
 Yes, answered the latter, trying to assume a doubt 
 ful tone of voice. I believe in fact, I did see him 
 for a moment 
 
 Akulina smiled to herself, proud of her own acuteness. 
 I 
 
114 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I thought so/ she said. And he has made some 
 trouble about that wretched doll 
 
 How did you guess that ? asked Schmidt, turn 
 ing and ascending a few steps. He was very much 
 astonished. 
 
 Oh, I know many things many interesting things. 
 And now you want to warn my husband of what the 
 Count has done, do you not ? It must be something 
 serious, since you are in such a hurry. Come in, 
 Herr Schmidt, and have a glass of tea. Fischelowitz 
 will be at home in a few minutes, and you see I have 
 guessed half your story, so you may as well tell me 
 the other half and be done with it. It is of no use 
 for you to go to the shop after him. He has shut up 
 by this time, and you cannot tell which way he will 
 come home, can you ? Much better come in and have 
 a glass of tea. The samovar is lighted and everything 
 is ready, so that you need not stay long. 
 
 Schmidt lingered doubtfully a moment on the stairs. 
 The closing hour was certainly past in early-closing 
 Munich, and he might miss the tobacconist in the 
 street. It seemed wiser to wait for him in his house, 
 and so the Cossack reluctantly accepted the invitation, 
 which, under ordinary circumstances, he would have 
 regarded as a great honour. Akulina ushered him into 
 the little sitting-room and prepared him a large glass 
 of tea with a slice of lemon in it. She filled another 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 115 
 
 for herself and sat down opposite to him at the 
 table. 
 
 The poor Count! she exclaimed. He is sure 
 to get himself into trouble some day. I suppose 
 people cannot help behaving oddly when they are mad, 
 poor things. And the Count is certainly mad, Herr 
 Schmidt. 
 
 Quite mad, poor man. He has had one of his 
 worst attacks to-day. 
 
 Yes/ assented the wily Akulina, and if you could 
 have seen him and heard him in the shop this even 
 ing She held up her hands and shook her 
 
 head. 
 
 What did he do and say ? 
 
 Oh, such things, such things ! Poor man, of 
 course I am very sorry for him, and I am glad that 
 my husband finds room to employ him, and keep him 
 from starving. But really, this evening he quite made 
 me lose my temper. I am afraid I was a little rough, 
 considering that he is sensitive. But to hear the man 
 talk about his money, and his titles, and his dignities, 
 when he is only just able to keep body and soul to 
 gether ! It is enough to irritate the seven archangels, 
 Herr Schmidt, indeed it is ! And then at the same 
 time there was that dreadful Gigerl, and my head was 
 splitting I am sure there will be a thunder-storm 
 to-night altogether, I could not bear it any longer, 
 
116 A CIGARETTE- MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 and I actually upset the Gigerl out of anger, and it 
 rolled to the floor and was broken. Of course it is 
 very foolish to lose one s temper in that way, but after 
 all, I am only a weak woman, and I confess it was a 
 relief to me wheii I saw the poor Count take the thing 
 away. I hope I did not really hurt his feelings, for 
 he is an excellent workman, in spite of his madness. 
 What did he say, Herr Schmidt ? I would so like to 
 know how he took it. Of course he was very angry. 
 Poor man, so mad, so completely mad on that one 
 point ! 
 
 To tell the truth/ said Schmidt, who had listened 
 attentively, he did not like what you said to him at 
 all. 
 
 Well, really, was it my fault, Herr Schmidt ? I 
 am only a woman, and I suppose I may be excused if 
 I lose my temper once in a year or so. It is very 
 wearing on the nerves. Every Tuesday evening begins 
 the same old song about the fortune and letters, and 
 the journey to Eussia. One gets very tired of it in 
 the long-run. At first it used to amuse me. 
 
 Do you think that Herr Fischelowitz can have 
 gone anywhere else instead of coming home ? asked 
 the Cossack, finishing the glass of tea, which he had 
 swallowed burning hot out of sheer anxiety to get 
 away. 
 
 Oh no, indeed, cried Akulina in a tone of the 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 117 
 
 most sincere conviction. He always tells me where 
 he is going. You have no idea what a good husband 
 he is, and what a good man though I daresay you 
 know that after being with us so many years. Now, 
 I am sure that if he had the least idea that anything 
 had happened to the poor Count, he would run all the 
 way home in order to hear it as soon as possible/ 
 
 No more tea, thank you, Frau Fischelowitz/ said 
 Schmidt, but she took his glass with a quiet smile and 
 shredded a fresh piece of lemon into it and filled it up 
 again, quite heedless of his protest. Schmidt resigned 
 himself, and thanked her civilly. 
 
 Of course/ she said, presently, as she busied her 
 self with the arrangements of the samovar, of course 
 it is nothing so very serious, is it ? I daresay the 
 Count has told you that he would not work any more 
 for us, and you are anxious to arrange the matter ? 
 In that case, you need have no fear. I am always 
 ready to forgive and forget, as they say, though I am 
 only a weak woman/ 
 
 That is very kind of you/ observed Schmidt, with 
 a glitter in his eyes which Akulina did not observe. 
 
 * I guessed the truth, did I not ? 
 
 Not exactly. The trouble is rather more serious 
 than that. The fact is, as we were at supper, a man 
 at another table saw the Gigerl in our hands and swore 
 that it had been stolen from him some months ago/ 
 
118 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 And what happened then ? asked Akulina with 
 sudden interest. 
 
 I suppose you may as well know/ said Schmidt, 
 regretfully. There was a row, and the man made 
 a great deal of trouble and at last the police were 
 called in, and I came to get Herr Fischelowitz himself 
 to come and prove that the Gigerl was his. You see 
 why I am in such a hurry. 
 
 Do you think they have arrested the Count? 
 
 I imagine that every one concerned would be 
 taken to the police-station/ 
 
 And then ? 
 
 And then, unless the affair is cleared up, they will 
 be kept there all night. 
 
 All night ! exclaimed Akulina, holding up her 
 hands in real or affected horror. Poor Count ! He 
 will be quite crazy, now, I fear especially as this is 
 Tuesday evening. 
 
 But he must be got out at once ! cried Schmidt 
 in a tone of decision. Herr Fischelowitz will surely 
 not allow 
 
 No indeed ! You have only to wait until he comes 
 home, and then you can go together. Or better still, 
 if he does not come back in a quarter of an hour, and 
 if he has really shut up the shop as usual, you might 
 look for him at the Cafe* Luitpold, and if he is not 
 there, it is just possible that he may have looked in at 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 119 
 
 the Gartner Platz Theatre, for which he often has free 
 tickets, and if the performance is over I fancy it is, 
 by this time he may be in the Cafe* Maximilian, or 
 he may have gone to drink a glass of beer in the 
 Platzl, for he often goes there, and well, if you do not 
 find him in any of those places 
 
 But, good Heavens, Frau Fischelowitz, you said 
 you were quite sure he was coming home at once ! 
 Now I have lost all this time ! 
 
 Schmidt had risen quickly to his feet, in considerable 
 anxiety and haste. Akulina smiled good-humouredly. 
 
 You see, she said, it is just possible that to 
 night, as he was a little annoyed with me for being 
 sharp with the Count, he may have gone somewhere 
 without telling me. But I really could not foresee it, 
 because he is such a very good 
 
 I know, interrupted the Cossack. If I miss him, 
 you will tell him, will you not ? Thank you, and 
 good-night, Frau Fischelowitz, I cannot afford to wait 
 a moment longer/ 
 
 So saying Johann Schmidt made for the door and 
 got out of the house this time without any attempt on 
 the part of his amiable hostess to detain him further. 
 She had indeed omitted to tell him that her last 
 speech was not merely founded on a supposition, since 
 Fischelowitz had really been very much annoyed and 
 had declared that he would not come home but would 
 
120 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 spend the evening with a friend of his who lived in 
 the direction of Schwabing, one of the suburbs of 
 Munich farthest removed from the places in which she 
 advised Schmidt to make search. 
 
 The stout housewife disliked and even detested the 
 Count for many reasons all good in her own eyes, 
 among which the chief one was that she did dislike 
 him. She felt for him one of those strong and 
 invincible antipathies which trivial and cunning 
 natures often feel for very honourable and simple 
 ones. To the latter the Count belonged, and Akulina 
 was a fine specimen of the former. If the Count had 
 been literally starving and clothed in rags, he would 
 have been incapable of a mean thought or of a dis 
 honest action. Whatever his origin had been, he had 
 that, at least, of a nobility undeniable in itself. That 
 his character was simple in. reality, may as yet seem 
 less evident. He was regarded as mad, as has been 
 seen, but his madness was methodical and did not 
 overstep certain very narrow bounds. Beyond those 
 limits within which others, at least, did not consider 
 him responsible, his chief idea seemed to be to gain 
 his living quietly, owing no man anything, nor refusing 
 anything to any man who asked it. This last 
 characteristic, more than any other, seemed to prove 
 the possibility of his having been brought up in wealth 
 and with the free use of money, for his generosity was 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 121 
 
 not that of the vulgar spendthrift who throws away his 
 possessions upon himself quite as freely as upon his com 
 panions. He earned enough money at his work to live 
 decently well, at least, and he spent but the smallest sum 
 upon his own wants. Nevertheless he never had any 
 thing to spare for his own comfort, for he was as ready to 
 give a beggar in the street the piece of silver which 
 represented a good part of the value of his day s work 
 as most rich people are to part with a penny. He 
 never inquired the reason for the request of help, but 
 to all who asked of him he gave what he had, gravely, 
 without question, as a matter of course. If DumnofFs 
 pockets were empty and his throat dry, he went to the 
 Count and got what he wanted. Dumnoff might be 
 brutal, rude, coarse; it made no difference. The 
 Count did not care to know where the money went nor 
 when it would be returned, if ever. If Schmidt s wife 
 for he had a wife was ill, the Count lent all he had, if 
 the children s shoes were worn out, he lent again, 
 and when Schmidt, who was himself extremely con 
 scientious in his odd way, brought the money back, 
 the Count generally gave it to the first poor person 
 whom he met. Akulina supposed that this habit 
 belonged to his madness. Others, who understood 
 him better, counted it to him for righteousness, and even 
 Dumnoff, the rough peasant, showed at times a friendly 
 interest in him, which is not usually felt by the 
 
122 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 unpunctual borrower towards the uncomplaining 
 lender. 
 
 But Akulina could understand none of these 
 things. She belongs by nature to the class of people 
 whose first impulse on all occasions is to say : Money 
 is money. There can be no mutual attraction of 
 intellectual sympathy between these, and those other 
 persons who despise money in their hearts, and would 
 rather not touch it with their hands. It has been 
 seen also that the events connected with the Gigerl s 
 first appearance in the shop had been of a nature to 
 irritate Akulina still more. The dislike nourished in 
 her stout bosom through long months and years now 
 approached the completion of its development, and 
 manifested itself as a form of active hatred. Akulina 
 was delighted to learn that there was a prospect of the 
 Count s spending the night in the police-station and 
 she determined that Johann Schmidt should not find 
 her husband before the next day, and that when the 
 partner of her bliss returned presumably pacified by 
 the soothing converse of his friend she would not 
 disturb his peace of mind by any reference to the 
 Count s adventures. It was therefore with small 
 prospect of success that the Cossack began his search 
 for Fischelowitz. 
 
 Only a man who has sought anxiously for another, 
 all through the late evening, in a great city, knows 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 123 
 
 how hopeless the attempt seems after the first 
 hour. The rapid motion through many dusky streets, 
 the looking in, from time to time, upon some merry 
 company assembled in a warm room under a brilliant 
 light, the anxious search among the guests for the 
 familiar figure, the disappointment, as each fancied 
 resemblance shows, on near approach, a face unknown 
 to the searcher, the hurried exit and the quick passage 
 through the dark night air to the next halting-place 
 all these impressions, following hurriedly upon each 
 other, confuse the mind and at last discourage hope. 
 
 Schmidt did not realise how late it was, when, 
 abandoning his search for his employer, he turned 
 towards the police-station in the hope of still render 
 ing some assistance to his friend. He could not gain 
 admittance to the presence of the officer in charge, 
 however, and was obliged to content himself with the 
 assurance that the Count had been treated with con 
 sideration, as the phrase was, and that there would be 
 plenty of time for talking in the morning. The police 
 men in the guard-room were sleepy and not disposed 
 to enter into conversation. Schmidt turned his steps in 
 the direction of the tobacconist s house for the second 
 time, in sheer despair. But he found the street door 
 shut and the whole house was dark. Nevertheless, he 
 pulled the little handle upon which, by the aid of a 
 flickering match, he discovered a figure of three, corre- 
 
124 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 spending to the floor occupied by Fischelowitz. Again 
 and again he tugged vigorously at the brass knob until 
 he could hear the bell tinkling far above. No other 
 sound followed, however, in the silence of the night, 
 though he strained his ears for the faintest echo of a 
 distant footfall and the slightest noise indicating that 
 a window or a door was about to be opened. He 
 wondered whether Fischelowitz had come home. If 
 he had, Akulina had surely told him the story of the 
 evening, and he would have been heard of at the police- 
 station, for it was incredible that he should let the 
 night pass without making an effort to liberate the 
 Count. Therefore the tobacconist had in all probability 
 not yet returned. The night was fairly warm, and the 
 Cossack sat down upon a door-step, lighted a cigarette 
 and waited. In spite of long years spent in the 
 midst of German civilisation, it was still as natural to 
 him to sit down in the open air at night and to watch 
 the stars, as though he had never changed his own 
 name for the plain German appellation of Johann 
 Schmidt, nor laid aside the fur cap and the sheepskin 
 coat of his tribe for the shabby jacket and the rusty 
 black hat of higher social development. 
 
 There was no truth in Akulina s statement that a 
 thunder-storm was approaching. The stars shone clear 
 and bright, high above the narrow street, and the 
 solitary man looked up at them, and remembered other 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 125 
 
 days and a freer life and a broader horizon ; days when 
 he had been younger than he was now, a life full of 
 a healthier labour, a horizon boundless as that of the 
 little street was limited. He thought, as he often 
 thought when alone in the night, of his long journeys 
 on horseback, driving great flocks of bleating sheep 
 over endless steppes and wolds and expanses of pasture 
 and meadow ; he remembered the reddening of the 
 sheep s woolly coats in the evening sun, the quick 
 change from gold to grey as the sun went down, the 
 slow transition from twilight to night, the uncertain 
 gait of his weary beast as the darkness closed in, the 
 soft sound of the sheep huddling together, the bark of 
 his dog, the sudden, leaping light of the camp-fire on the 
 distant rising ground, the voices of greeting, the 
 bubbling of the soup kettle, the grateful rest, the song 
 of the wandering Tchumak the pedlar and roving 
 newsman of the Don. He remembered on holidays 
 the wild racing and chasing and the sports in the 
 saddle, the picking up of the tiny ten-kopek bit 
 from the earth at a full gallop, the startling game in 
 which a row of fearless Cossack girls join hands 
 together, daring the best rider to break their rank with 
 his plunging horse if he can, the mad laughter of 
 the maidens, the snorting and rearing of the animal as 
 he checks himself before the human wall that will not 
 part to make way for him. All these things he 
 
126 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 recalled, the change of the seasons, the iron winter, 
 the scorching summer, the glory of autumn and the 
 freshness of spring. Born to such a liberty, he had 
 fallen into the captivity of a common life ; bred in the 
 desert, he knew that his declining years would be spent 
 in the eternal cutting of tobacco in the close air of a 
 back shop ; trained to the saddle, he spent his days 
 seated motionless upon a wooden chair. The contrast 
 was bitter enough, between the life he was meant to 
 lead by nature, and the life he was made to lead by 
 circumstances. And all this was the result in the 
 first instance of a girl s caprice, of her fancy for another 
 man, so little different from himself that a Western 
 woman could hardly have told the two apart. For 
 this, he had left the steppe, had wandered westward to 
 the Dnieper and southward to Odessa, northward again 
 to Kiew, to Moscow, to Nizni-Novgorod, back again 
 to Poland, to Krakau, to Prague, to Munich at last. 
 Who could remember his wanderings, or trace the 
 route of his endless journeyings ? Not he himself, 
 surely, any more than he could explain the gradual 
 steps by which he had been transformed from a Don 
 Cossack to a German tobacco-cutter in a cigarette 
 manufactory. 
 
 But his past life at least furnished him with 
 memories, varied, changing, full of light and life and 
 colour, wherewith to while away an hour s watching 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 127 
 
 in the night. Still he sat upon his door-step, watching 
 star after star as it slowly culminated over the narrow 
 street and set, for him, behind the nearest house-top. 
 He might have sat there till morning had he not been 
 at last aware that some one was walking upon the 
 opposite pavement. 
 
 His quick ear caught the soft fall of an almost 
 noiseless footstep and he could distinguish a shadow a 
 little darker than the surrounding shade, moving 
 quickly along the wall. He rose to his feet and 
 crossed the street, not believing, indeed, that the new 
 comer could be the man he wanted, but anxious to be 
 fully satisfied that he was not mistaken. He found 
 himself face to face with a young girl, who stopped at 
 the street door of the tobacconist s house, just as he 
 reached it. Her head was muffled in something dark 
 and he could not distinguish her features. She 
 started on seeing him, hesitated and then laid her 
 hand upon the same knob which Schmidt had pulled 
 so often in vain. 
 
 It is of no use to ring, he said, quietly. I have 
 given it up. 
 
 Herr Schmidt ! exclaimed the girl in evident 
 delight. It was Vjera. 
 
 Yes but, in Heaven s name, Vjera, what are you 
 doing here at this hour of the night ? You ought to 
 be at home and asleep. 
 
128 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Oh, you have not heard the dreadful news/ cried 
 poor Vjera in accents of distress. Oh, if we cannot 
 get in here, come with me, for the love of Heaven, and 
 help me to get him out of that horrible place oh, if 
 you only knew what has happened ! 
 
 I know all about it, Vjera/ answered the Cossack. 
 That is the reason why I am here. I was with them 
 when it happened and I ran off to get Fischelowitz. 
 As ill luck would have it, he was out. 
 
 In a few words Schmidt explained the whole affair 
 and told of his own efforts. Vjera was breathless 
 with excitement and anxiety. 
 
 1 What is to be done ? Dear Herr Schmidt ! What 
 is to be done ? She wrung her hands together and 
 fixed her tearful eyes on his. 
 
 I am afraid that there is nothing to be done until 
 
 But there must be something, there shall be some 
 thing done ! They will drive him mad in that dreadful 
 place he is so proud and so sensitive you do not 
 know the mere idea of being in prison 
 
 It is not so bad as that/ answered Schmidt, trying 
 to reassure her. They assured me that he was treated 
 with every consideration, you know. Of course that 
 means that he was not locked up like a common prisoner/ 
 
 Do you think so ? Vj era s tone expressed no 
 conviction in the matter. 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 129 
 
 Certainly. And it shows that he is not really 
 suspected of anything serious only, because Fischelo- 
 witz could not be found 
 
 But he is there there in his house, asleep! 
 cried Yjera. And we can wake him up of course 
 we can. He cannot be sleeping so soundly as not to 
 hear if we ring hard. At least his wife will hear and 
 look out of the window. 
 
 I am afraid not. I have tried it. 
 
 But Vjera would not be discouraged and laid hold 
 of the bell -handle again, pulling it out as far as it 
 would come and letting it fly back again with a snap. 
 The same results followed as when Schmidt had made 
 the same attempt. There was a distant tinkling 
 followed by total silence. Vjera repeated the opera 
 tion. 
 
 You cannot do more than I have done, said her 
 companion, leaning his back against the door and 
 watching her movements. 
 
 I ought to do more. 
 
 Why, Vjera ? 
 
 Because he is more to me than to you or to any 
 of the rest, she answered in a low voice. 
 
 Do you mean to say that you love the Count ? 
 inquired Schmidt, surprised beyond measure by the 
 girl s words and rendered thereby even more tactless 
 than usual. 
 
 K 
 
130 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 But Vjera said nothing, having been already led 
 into saying more than she had wished to say. She 
 pulled the bell again. 
 
 I had never thought of that, remarked the Cossack 
 in a musing tone. But he is mad, Vjera, the poor 
 Count is mad. It is a pity that you should love a 
 madman 
 
 Oh, don t, Herr Schmidt please don t! cried 
 Vjera, imploring him to be silent as much with her 
 eyes as with her voice. 
 
 No, but really/ continued the other, as though 
 talking to himself, there are things that go beyond 
 all imagination in this world. Now, who would ever 
 have thought of such a thing ? 
 
 This time Vjera did not make any answer, nor 
 repeat her request. But as she tugged with all her 
 might at the brass handle, the Cossack heard a quick 
 sob, and then another. 
 
 Poor Vjera ! he exclaimed kindly, and laying his 
 hand on her shoulder. Poor child ! I am very 
 sorry for you, poor Vjera I would do anything to 
 help you, indeed I would if I only knew what it 
 should be. 
 
 Then help me to wake up Fischelowitz, answered 
 the girl in a shaken voice. I am sure he is at home 
 at this time 
 
 1 1 have done all I can. If he will not wake, he 
 
vi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 131 
 
 will not. Or if he is awake he will not put his head 
 out of the window, which is much the same thing so 
 far as we are concerned. By the bye, Vjera, you 
 have not told me how you came to hear of the row. 
 It is queer that you should have heard of it 
 
 Herr Homolka you know, my landlord had seen 
 the Count go by with the Gigerl and the policemen. 
 He asked some one in the crowd and learned the story. 
 But it was late when he came home, and he told us 
 I was sitting up sewing with his wife and then I 
 ran here. But do please help me we can do some 
 thing, I am sure. 
 
 1 1 do not see what, short of climbing up the flat 
 walls of the house. But I am not a lizard, you know. 
 
 We might call. Perhaps they would hear our 
 voices if we called together, suggested Vjera, drawing 
 back into the middle of the street and looking up at 
 the closed windows of the third story. 
 
 Herr Fischelowitz ! she cried, in a shrill, weak 
 tone that seemed to find no echo in the still air. 
 
 Herr Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz ! 
 bawled the Cossack, taking up the idea and putting it 
 into very effective execution. His brazen voice, harsh 
 and high, almost made the windows rattle. 
 
 Somebody will hear that, he observed and cleared 
 his throat for another effort. 
 
 A number of persons heard it, and at the first 
 
132 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, vi 
 
 repetition of the yell, two or three windows were 
 angrily opened. A head in a white nightcap looked 
 out from the first story. 
 
 What do you want at this hour of the night ? 
 asked the owner of the nightcap, already in a rage. 
 
 I want Herr Fischelowitz, who lives in this 
 house, answered the Cossack, firmly. 
 
 Do you live here ? Are you shut out ? 
 
 No we only want 
 
 Then go to the devil ! roared the infuriated 
 German, shutting his window again with a vicious 
 slam. A grunt of satisfaction from other directions 
 was followed by the shutting of other windows, and 
 presently all was silent again. 
 
 I am afraid they sleep at the back of the house, 
 said Vjera, growing despondent at last. 
 
 I am afraid so, too, answered Johann Schmidt, 
 proudly conscious that the noise he had made would 
 have disturbed the slumbers of the Seven Sleepers of 
 Ephesus. 
 
CHAPTEE VII 
 
 You had better let me take you home/ said Schmidt, 
 kindly, after the total failure of the last effort. 
 
 Vjera seemed to be stupefied by the sense of dis 
 appointment. She went back to the door of the 
 tobacconist s house and put out her hand as though to 
 ring the bell again ; then, realising how useless the 
 attempt would be, she let her arms fall by her sides 
 and leaned against the door-post, her muffled head bent 
 forward and her whole attitude expressing her despair. 
 
 Come, come, Vjera/ said the Cossack in an encourag 
 ing tone, it is not so bad after all. By this time the 
 Count is fast asleep and is dreaming of his fortune, 
 you know, so that it would be a cruelty to wake him 
 up. In the morning we will all go with Fischelowitz 
 and have him let out, and he will be none the worse/ 
 
 I am afraid he will be very much the worse/ 
 said Vjera. It is Wednesday to-morrow, and if he 
 wakes up there oh, I do not dare think of it. It 
 will make him quite, quite mad. Can we do nothing 
 more ? Nothing ? 
 
134 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I think we have done our best to wake up this 
 quarter of the town, and yet Fischelowitz is still 
 asleep. No one else can be of any use to us there 
 fore he stopped, for his conclusion seemed self- 
 evident. 
 
 I suppose so/ said Vjera, regretfully. Let us go, 
 then. 
 
 She turned and with her noiseless step began to 
 walk slowly away, Schmidt keeping close by her side. 
 For some minutes neither spoke. The streets were 
 deserted, dry and still. 
 
 Do you think there is any truth at the bottom of 
 the Count s story ? asked the Cossack at last. 
 
 I do not know, Vjera answered, shaking her 
 head. I do not know what to think, she continued 
 after a little pause. He tells us all the same thing, 
 he speaks of his letters, but he never shows them to 
 
 any one. I am afraid she sighed and stopped 
 
 speaking. 
 
 I will tell you this much, said her companion. 
 That man is honest to the backbone, honest as the 
 good daylight on the hills, where there are no houses 
 to darken it and make shadows. 
 
 He is an angel of goodness and kindness/ said 
 Vjera softly. 
 
 I know he is. Is he not always helping others 
 when he is starving himself ? Now what I say is 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 135 
 
 this. No man who is as good and as honest as he is, 
 can have become so mad about a mere piece of fancy 
 about an invented lie, to be plain. What there is 
 in his story I do not know, but I am sure that there 
 was truth in it once. It may have been a long time 
 ago, but there was a time once, when he had some 
 reason to expect the money and the titles he talks of 
 every Tuesday evening. 
 
 Do you really think that ? asked Vjera, eagerly. 
 Her own understanding had never gone so far in its 
 deduction. 
 
 I am sure of it. I know nothing about mad 
 people, but I am sure that no honest man ever in 
 vented a story out of nothing and then became crazy 
 because it did not turn out true. 
 
 But you, who have travelled so much, Herr 
 Schmidt, have you ever heard the name before have 
 you ever heard of such a family ? 
 * I have a bad memory for names, but I believe I 
 have. I cannot be sure. It makes no difference. It 
 is a good Russian name, in any case, and a gentleman s 
 name, I should think. Of course I only mean that I 
 that you should not think that because I in fact, 
 blundered out the good man, you must not suppose 
 that you will be a real countess, you know. 
 
 I ? exclaimed Vjera, with a nervous, hysterical 
 laugh, which the Cossack supposed to be genuine. 
 
136 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE OHAP. 
 
 That is all I wanted to say/ he continued in a 
 tone of relief, as though he felt that he had done his 
 duty in warning the poor girl of a possible disappoint 
 ment. It may be true of course, and I am sure 
 that it once was, or something like it, but I do not 
 believe he has any chance of getting his own after 
 so long. 
 
 I cannot think of it in either way. If it is all 
 an old forgotten tale which he believes in still why 
 then, he is mad. Is it not dreadful to see ? So quiet 
 and sensible all the week, and then, on Tuesday night, 
 his farewell speech to us all every Tuesday and his 
 disappointment the next day, and then a new week 
 begun without any recollection of it all ! It is breaking 
 my heart, Herr Schmidt ! 
 
 Indeed, poor Yjera, you look as though it were. 
 
 And yet, and yet I do not know. I think that 
 if it were one day to turn out true then my heart 
 would be quite broken, for he would go away, and I 
 should never see him again. 
 
 Accustomed as she was to daily association with 
 the man who was walking by her side, knowing his 
 good heart and feeling his sympathy, it is small 
 wonder that the lonely girl should have felt impelled 
 to unburden her soul of some of its bitterness. If her 
 life had gone on as usual, undisturbed by anything 
 from without, the confessions which now fell from her 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 13*7 
 
 lips so easily would never have found words. But 
 she had been unsettled by what had happened in the 
 early evening, and unstrung by her great anxiety for 
 the Count s safety. Her own words sounded in her 
 ear before she knew that she was going to speak them. 
 
 I am sure that something dreadful is going to 
 happen/ she continued after a moment s pause. He 
 will go mad in that horrible prison, raving mad, so 
 
 that they will have to to hold him she sobbed 
 
 and then recovered herself by an effort. Or else he 
 
 will fall ill and die, after it Here she broke 
 
 down completely and stopping in the middle of the 
 street began crying bitterly, clutching at Schmidt s 
 arm as though to keep from falling. 
 
 I should not wonder/ he said, but she fortunately 
 did not catch the words. 
 
 He was very sorry for the poor girl, and felt in 
 clined to take her in his arms and carry her to her 
 home, for he saw that she was weak and exhausted as 
 well as overcome by her anxiety. Before resorting to 
 such a measure, however, he thought it best to try to 
 encourage her to walk on. 
 
 Nothing that one expects, ever happens/ he said 
 confidently, and passing his arm through hers, as 
 though to lead her away. Come, you will be at 
 home presently and then you will go to bed and in the 
 morning, before you are at the shop, everything wil] 
 
138 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 have been set right, and I daresay the Count will be 
 there before you, and looking as well as ever. 
 
 How can you say that, when you know that he 
 never comes on Wednesdays ! exclaimed Vjera 
 through her tears. I am sure something dreadful 
 will happen to him. No, not that way not that 
 way ! 
 
 Schmidt was trying to guide her round a sharp 
 corner, but she resisted him. 
 
 But that is the way home, protested the Cossack. 
 
 I know, but I cannot go home, until I have seen 
 where he is. I must go you must not prevent me ! 
 
 To the police-station ? inquired Schmidt in con 
 siderable astonishment. They will not let us go in, 
 you know. You cannot possibly see him. What 
 good can it do you to go and look at the place ? 
 
 You do not understand, Herr Schmidt ! You are 
 good and kind, but you do not understand me. Pray, 
 pray come with me, or let me go alone. I will go 
 alone, if you do not want to come. I am not at all 
 afraid but I must go. 
 
 Well, child, answered Schmidt, good-humouredly, 
 I will go with you, since you are so determined. 
 
 Is this the way ? Are you not misleading me ? 
 Oh, I am sure I shall never see him again quick, let 
 us walk quickly, Herr Schmidt ! Only think what he 
 may be suffering at this very moment ! 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 139 
 
 I am sure lie is asleep, my dear child. And when 
 we are outside of the police-station we cannot know 
 what is going on inside, whether our friend is asleep 
 or awake, and it can do no good whatever to go. But 
 since you really wish it so much, we are going there 
 as fast as we can, and I promise to take you by the 
 shortest way/ 
 
 Her step grew more firm as they went on and he 
 felt that there was more life in the hand that rested 
 on his arm. The prospect of seeing the walls of 
 the place in which the Count was unwillingly spend- 
 
 w 
 
 ing the night gave Vjera fresh strength and courage. 
 The way was long, as distances are reckoned in 
 Munich, and more than ten minutes elapsed before 
 they reached the building. A sentry was pacing the 
 pavement under the glare of the gaslight, his shadow 
 lengthening, shortening, disappearing and lengthening 
 again on the stone-way as he walked slowly up and 
 down. Vjera and her companion stopped on the 
 other side of the street. The sentinel paid no atten 
 tion to them. 
 
 * You are quite sure it is there ? asked the girl, 
 under her breath. Schmidt nodded instead of 
 answering. 
 
 Then I will pray that all may be well this night, 
 she said. 
 
 She dropped the Cossack s arm and slipped away 
 
140 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 from him; then pausing at a little distance, in the 
 deep shadow of an archway opposite the station, she 
 knelt down upon the pavement, and taking some 
 small object, which was indistinguishable in the 
 darkness, from the bosom of her frock she clasped 
 her hands together and looked upwards through 
 the gloom at the black walls of the great building. 
 The Cossack looked at her in a sort of half-stupid, 
 half-awed surprise, scarcely understanding what she 
 was doing at first, and feeling his heart singularly 
 touched when he realised that she was praying out 
 here in the street, kneeling on the common pavement 
 of the city, as though upon the marble floor of a 
 church, and actually saying prayers he could hear 
 low sounds of earnest tone escaping from her lips 
 prayers for the man she loved, because he was shut 
 up for the night in the police-station like an ordinary 
 disturber of the peace. He was touched, for the 
 action, in its simplicity of faith, set in vibration the 
 chords of a nature accustomed originally to simple 
 things, simple hopes, simple beliefs. Instinctively, as 
 he watched her, Johann Schmidt raised his hat from 
 his round head for a moment, and if he had possessed 
 any nearer acquaintance with praying in general or 
 with any prayer in particular it is almost certain that 
 his lips would have moved. As it was, he felt sorry 
 for Vjera, he hoped that the Count would be none the 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 141 
 
 worse for his adventure, and he took off his hat. Let 
 it be counted to him for righteousness. 
 
 As for poor Vjera herself, she was so much in 
 earnest that she altogether forgot where she was. 
 For love, it has been found, is a great suggester of 
 prayer, if not of meditation, and when the beloved one 
 is in danger a little faith seems magnified to such 
 dimensions as would certainly accept unhesitatingly a 
 whole mountain of dogmas. Vjera s ideas were indeed 
 confused, and she would have found it hard to define 
 the result which she so confidently expected. But if 
 that result were to be in any proportion to her earnest 
 ness of purpose and sincerity of heart, it could not take 
 a less imposing shape than a direct intervention of 
 Providence, at the very least ; and as the poor Polish 
 girl rose from her knees she would hardly have been 
 surprised to see the green-coated sentinel thrust aside 
 by legions of angelic beings, hastening to restore to her 
 the only treasure her humble life knew of, or dreamed 
 of, or cared for. 
 
 But as the visions which her prayers had called 
 before her faded away into the night, she saw again 
 the dingy walls of the hated building, the gilt spike 
 on the helmet of the policeman and the shining blade 
 that caught the light as he moved on his beat. For 
 one moment Vjera stood quite still. Then with a 
 passionate gesture she stretched out both arms before 
 
142 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 her, as though to draw out to herself, by sheer strength 
 of longing, the man whose life she felt to be her own 
 and at last, wearied and exhausted, but no longer 
 despairing altogether, she covered her face with her 
 hands and repeated again and again the two words 
 which made up the burden of her supplication. 
 
 Save him, save him, save him ! she whispered to 
 herself. 
 
 When she looked up, at last, Schmidt was by her 
 side. There was something oddly respectful in his 
 attitude and manner as he stood there awaiting her 
 pleasure, ready to be guided by her whithersoever she 
 pleased. It seemed to him that on this evening he 
 had begun to see Vjera in a new light, and that she 
 was by no means the poor, insignificant little shell- 
 maker he had always supposed her to be. It seemed 
 to him that she was transformed into a woman, and 
 into a woman of strong affections and brave heart. 
 And yet he knew every outline of her plain face, and 
 had known every change of her expression for years, 
 since she had first come to the shop, a mere girl not 
 yet thirteen years of age. Nor had it been from 
 lack of observation that he had misunderstood her, 
 for like most men born and bred in the wilderness, he 
 watched faces and tried to read them. The change 
 had taken place in Vjera herself and it must be due, 
 he thought, to her love for the poor madman. He 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 143 
 
 smiled to himself in the dark, scarcely understanding 
 why. It was strange to him perhaps that madness on 
 the one side should bring into life such a world of 
 love on the other. 
 
 Vjera turned towards him and once more laid her 
 hand upon his arm. 
 
 Thank you/ she said. I could not have slept if 
 I had not come here first, and it was very good of 
 you. I will go home, but do not come with me you 
 must be tired. 
 
 I am never tired, he answered, and they began 
 to walk away in the direction whence they had 
 come. 
 
 For a long time neither spoke. At last Schmidt 
 broke the silence. 
 
 Vjera, he said, I have been thinking about it all 
 and I do not understand it. What kind of love is it 
 that makes you act as you do ? 
 
 Vjera stood still, for they were close to her door, 
 and there was a street lamp at hand so that she could 
 see his face. She saw that he asked the question 
 earnestly. 
 
 It is something that I cannot explain it is some 
 thing holy, she answered. 
 
 Perhaps the forlorn little shell-maker had found the 
 definition of true love. 
 
 She let herself in with her key and Schmidt once 
 
144 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 more found himself alone in the street. If he had 
 followed his natural instinct he would have loitered 
 about in one of the public squares until morning, 
 making up for the loss of his night s rest by sleeping 
 in the daytime. But he had taken upon himself the 
 responsibilities of marriage as they are regarded west 
 of the Dnieper, and his union had been blessed by the 
 subsequent appearance of a number of olive-branches. 
 It was therefore necessary that he should sleep at 
 night in order to work by day, and he reluctantly 
 turned his footsteps towards home. As he walked, 
 he thought of all that had happened since five o clock 
 in the afternoon, and of all that he had learned in the 
 course of the night. Vjera s story interested him and 
 touched him, and her acts seemed to remind him of 
 something which he nevertheless could not quite 
 remember. Ear down in his toughened nature the 
 strings of a forgotten poetry vibrated softly as though 
 they would make music if they dared. Tar back in 
 the chain of memories, the memory once best loved 
 was almost awake once more, the link of once clasped 
 hands was almost alive again, the tender pressure of 
 fingers now perhaps long dead was again almost a 
 reality able to thrill body and soul. And with all 
 that, and with the certainty that those things were gone 
 for ever, arose the great longing for one more breath of 
 liberty, for one more ride over the boundless steppe, 
 
viz A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 145 
 
 for one more draught of the sour kvass, of the camp 
 brew of rye and malt. 
 
 The longing for such things, for one thing almost 
 unattainable, is in man and beast at certain times. 
 In the distant northern plains, a hundred miles from 
 the sea, in the midst of the Laplander s village, a 
 young reindeer raises his broad muzzle to the north 
 wind, and stares at the limitless distance while a 
 man may count a hundred. He grows restless from 
 that moment, but he is yet alone. The next day, a 
 dozen of the herd look up, from the cropping of the 
 moss, snuffing the breeze. Then the Laps nod to one 
 another, and the camp grows daily more unquiet. 
 At times, the whole herd of young deer stand at 
 gaze, as it were, breathing hard through wide nostrils, 
 then jostling each other and stamping the soft ground. 
 They grow unruly and it is hard to harness them in 
 the light sledge. As the days pass, the Laps watch 
 them more and more closely, well knowing what will 
 happen sooner or later. And then at last, in the 
 northern twilight, the great herd begins to move 
 The impulse is simultaneous, irresistible, their heads 
 are all turned in one direction. They move slowly at 
 first, biting still, here and there, at the bunches of 
 rich moss. Presently the slow step becomes a trot, 
 they crowd closely together while the Laps hasten to 
 gather up their last unpacked possessions, their cook- 
 
146 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 ing utensils and their wooden gods. The great herd 
 break together from a trot to a gallop, from a gallop 
 to a break-neck race, the distant thunder of their 
 united tread reaches the camp during a few minutes, 
 and they are gone to drink of the polar sea. The 
 Laps follow after them, dragging painfully their laden 
 sledges in the broad track left by the thousands of 
 galloping beasts a day s journey, and they are yet far 
 from the sea, and the trail is yet broad. On the 
 second day it grows narrower, and there are stains of 
 blood to be seen; far on the distant plain before them 
 their sharp eyes distinguish in the direct line a dark, 
 motionless object, another and then another. The 
 race has grown more desperate and more wild as the 
 stampede neared the sea. The weaker reindeer have 
 been thrown down, and trampled to death by their 
 stronger fellows. A thousand sharp hoofs have 
 crushed and cut through hide and flesh and bone. 
 Ever swifter and more terrible in their motion, the 
 ruthless herd has raced onward, careless of the slain, 
 careless of food, careless of any drink but the sharp 
 salt water ahead of them. And when at last the 
 Laplanders reach the shore their deer are once more 
 quietly grazing, once more tame and docile, once more 
 ready to drag the sledge whithersoever they are 
 guided. Once in his life the reindeer must taste of 
 the sea in one long, satisfying draught, and if he is 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 147 
 
 hindered he perishes. Neither man nor beast dare 
 stand between him and the ocean in the hundred miles 
 of his arrow-like path. 
 
 Something of this longing came upon the Cossack, as 
 he suddenly remembered the sour taste of the kvass, to 
 the recollection of which he had been somehow led by a 
 train of thought which had begun with Yj era s love for 
 the Count, to end abruptly in a camp kettle. For the 
 heart of man is much the same everywhere, and there 
 is nothing to show that the step from the sublime to 
 the ridiculous is any longer in the Don country than in 
 any other part of the world. But between poor Johann 
 Schmidt and his draught of kvass there lay obstacles 
 not encountered by the reindeer in his race for the 
 Arctic Ocean. There was the wife, and there were the 
 children, and there was the vast Distance, so vast that 
 it might have discouraged even the fleet-footed scourer 
 of the northern snows. Johann Schmidt might long 
 for his kvass, and draw in his thin, wan lips at the 
 thought of the taste of it, and bend his black brows 
 and close his sharp eyes as in a dream it was all of 
 no use, there was no change in store for him. He 
 had cast his lot in the land of beer and sausages, and 
 he must work out his salvation and the support of his 
 family without a ladleful of the old familiar brew to 
 satisfy his unreasonable caprices. 
 
 So, last of all those concerned in the events of the 
 
148 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 evening, Johann Schmidt went home to bed and to rest 
 That power, at least, had remained with him. When 
 ever he lay down he could close his eyes and be asleep, 
 and forget the troubles and the mean trifles of his 
 thorny existence. In this respect he had the advantage 
 of the others. 
 
 Vjera lay down, indeed, but the attempt to sleep 
 seemed more painful than the accepted reality of 
 waking. The night was the most terrible in her 
 remembrance, filled as it was with anxiety for the 
 fate of the man she so dearly loved. To her still 
 childlike inexperience of the world, the circumstances 
 seemed as full of fear and danger as though the poor 
 Count had been put upon his trial for a murder or a 
 robbery on an enormous scale, instead of being merely 
 detained because he cftuld not give a satisfactory account 
 of a puppet which had been found in his possession. 
 In the poor girl s imagination arose visions of judges, 
 awful personages in funereal robes and huge black caps, 
 with cruel lips and hard, steely eyes, sitting in solemn 
 state in a gloomy hall and dispensing death, disgrace, 
 or long terms of prison, at the very least, to all comers. 
 For her, the police-station was a dungeon, and she 
 fancied the Count chained to a dank and slimy wall 
 in a painful position, chilled to the marrow by the 
 touch of the dripping stone, his teeth chattering, his 
 face distorted with suffering. Of course he was in a 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 149 
 
 solitary cell, behind a heavy door, braced with clamps 
 and bolts and locks and studded with great dark iron 
 nails. Without, the grim policemen were doubtless 
 pacing up and down with drawn swords, listening 
 with a murderous delight to the groans of their victim 
 as he writhed in his chains. In the eyes of the poor 
 and the young, the law is a very terrible thing, taking 
 no account of persons, and very little of the relative 
 magnitude of men s misdeeds. The province of justice, 
 as Vjera conceived it, was to crush in its iron claws 
 all who had the misfortune to come within its reach. 
 Vjera had never heard of Judge Jeffreys nor of the 
 Bloody Assizes, but the methods of procedure adopted 
 by that eminent destroyer of his kind would have 
 seemed mild and humane compared with what she 
 supposed that all men. innocent or guilty, had to expect 
 after they had once fallen into the hands of the police 
 man. She was not a German girl, taught in the com 
 mon school to understand something of the methods 
 by which society governs itself. Her early childhood 
 had been spent in a Polish village, far within the 
 Eussian frontier, and though the law in Eussian 
 Poland is not exactly the irresponsible and blood 
 thirsty monster depicted by young gentlemen and old 
 maids who traverse the country in search of horrors, 
 yet it must be admitted by the least prejudiced that 
 it sometimes moves in a mysterious way, calculated to 
 
150 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 rouse some apprehension in the minds of those who 
 are governed by it. And Vjera had brought with her 
 her childish impressions, and applied them in the 
 present case as descriptive of the Munich police- 
 station. The whole subject was to her so full of 
 horror that she had not dared to ask Schmidt for the 
 details of the Count s situation. To her, a revolutionary 
 caught in the act of undermining the Tsar s bedroom, 
 could not be in a worse case. She would not have 
 believed Schmidt, had he told her that the Count was 
 sitting in an attitude of calm thought upon the edge 
 of a broad wooden bench, his hands quite free from 
 chains and gyves, and occupied in rolling cigarettes at 
 regular intervals of half an hour and this, in a clean 
 and well -ventilated room, lighted by a ground glass 
 lantern. She would have supposed that Schmidt was 
 inventing a description of such comfort and compara 
 tive luxury in order to calm her fears, and she would 
 have been ten times more afraid than before. 
 
 It is small wonder that she could not sleep. The 
 Count s arrest alone would have sufficed to keep her 
 in an agony of wakefulness, and there were other 
 matters, besides that, which tormented the poor girl s 
 brain. She had been long accustomed to his singular 
 madness and to hearing from him the assurance of his 
 returning to wealth. At first, with perfect simplicity, 
 she had believed every word of the story he told with 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 151 
 
 such evident certainty of its truth, and she had re 
 proached her older companions, as far as she dared, foi 
 their incredulity. But at last she had herself been 
 convinced of his madness as through the weeks, and 
 months, and years,, the state of expectation returned 
 on Tuesday evenings, to be followed by the disappoint 
 ments of Wednesday and by the oblivion which ensued 
 on Thursday morning. Vjera, like the rest, had come 
 to regard the regularly recurring delusion as being 
 wholly groundless, and not to be taken into account, 
 except inasmuch as it deprived them of the Count s 
 company on Wednesdays, for on that day he stayed at 
 home, in his garret room, waiting for the high person 
 ages who were to restore to him his wealth. Some 
 times, indeed, when he chanced to be very sure that 
 they would not come for him until evening, he would 
 stroll through the town for an hour, looking into the 
 shop windows and making up his mind what he should 
 buy ; and sometimes, on such occasions, he would visit 
 the scene of his late labours, as he called the tobacco 
 nist s shop on that day of the week, and would exchange 
 a few friendly words with his former companions. On 
 Thursday morning he invariably returned to his place 
 without remark and resumed his work, not seeming to 
 understand any observations made about his absence 
 or strange conduct on the previous day. 
 
 So far the story he had told Vjera had always been 
 
152 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 the same. Now, however, he had introduced a new- 
 incident in the tale, which filled poor Vjera with 
 dismay. He had never before spoken of his father 
 and brother, except as the causes of his disasters, 
 explaining that the powerful influence of his own 
 friends, aided by the machinery of justice, had at last 
 obliged them to concede him a proportional part of the 
 fortune. Fischelowitz was accustomed to laugh at this 
 statement, saying that if the Count were only a younger 
 son, the law would do nothing for him and that he 
 must continue to earn his livelihood as he could. In 
 the course of a long time Vjera had come to the con 
 clusion, by comparing this remark with the Count s 
 statement when in his abnormal condition, that he 
 was indeed the son of a great noble who had turned 
 him out of doors for some fancied misdeed, and from 
 whom he had in reality nothing to expect. Such was 
 the girl s present belief. 
 
 Now, however, he had suddenly declared that his 
 father and his brother were dead. With a woman s 
 keenness she took alarm at this new development. 
 She really loved the poor man with all her heart. 
 If this new addition to his story were a mere invention, 
 it was a sign that his madness was growing upon him, 
 and she had heard her companions discuss their com 
 rade often enough to know that, in their opinion, if he 
 began to grow worse, he would very soon be in the 
 
vii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 153 
 
 madhouse. It was bad enough to go through what 
 she suffered so often, to see the inward struggle ex 
 pressed on his face, whenever he chanced to be alone 
 with her on a Tuesday afternoon, to hear from his lips 
 the same assurance of love, the same offer of marriage, 
 and to know that all would be forgotten and that his 
 manner to her would change again, by Thursday, to 
 that of a uniform, considerate kindness. It was bad 
 enough, for the girl loved him and was sensitive. But 
 it would be worse how much worse, she dared not 
 think to see him go mad before her very eyes, to see 
 him taken away at last from the midst of them all 
 to the huge brick house in the outskirts of the city 
 beyond the Isar. 
 
 One more hypothesis remained. This time the 
 story might turn out true. She believed in his birth 
 and in his misfortunes, and in the existence of his 
 father and his brother. They might indeed be dead, 
 as he had told her, and he would then, perhaps, be 
 sole master in their stead she did not know how that 
 would be, in Eussia. But then, if it were all true, he 
 must go away and her life would be over, with its 
 loving hope and its hopeless love. 
 
 It is small wonder that Yjera did not sleep that night 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ONCE or twice in the course of the night, the Count 
 changed his position, got up, stretched himself and 
 paced the length of the room. Dumnoff lay like a log 
 upon his pallet, his head thrown back, his mouth open, 
 snoring with the strong bass vibration of a thirty-two- 
 foot organ pipe. The Count looked at him occasionally, 
 but did not envy him his power of sleep. His own re 
 flections were in a measure more agreeable than any 
 dream could have been, certainly more so in his judg 
 ment than the visions of unlimited cabbage soup, vodka, 
 and fighting which were doubtless delighting DunmofFs 
 slumbering soul. 
 
 As the church clocks struck one hour after another, 
 his spirits rose. He had, indeed, never had the least 
 apprehension concerning his own liberty, since he knew 
 himself to be perfectly innocent. He only desired to 
 be released as soon as possible in order to repair the 
 damage done to his coat and collar before the earliest 
 hour at which the messengers of good news could be 
 expected at his house. Meanwhile he cared little 
 
CHAP, vin A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 155 
 
 whether he spent the night on a bench in the police- 
 station, or on one of the rickety wooden chairs which 
 afforded the only sitting accommodation in his own 
 room. He could not sleep in either case, for his brain 
 was too wide awake with the anticipations of the 
 morrow, and with the endless plans for future happi 
 ness which suggested themselves. 
 
 At last he was aware that the nature of the light 
 in the room was changing and that the white ground 
 glass of the lantern was illuminated otherwise than by 
 the little flame within. The high window, as he looked 
 up, was like a grey figure cut out of dark paper, and 
 the dawn was stealing in at last. 
 
 Wednesday at last ! he exclaimed softly to him 
 self. Wednesday at last ! A gentle smile spread 
 over his tired face, and made it seem less haggard and 
 drawn than it really was. 
 
 The day broke, and somewhere not far from the 
 window, the birds all began to sing at once, filling 
 the room with a continuous strain of sound, loud, 
 clear and jubilant. The soft spring air seemed 
 to awake, as though it had itself been sleeping 
 through the still night and must busy itself now in 
 sending the sweet breezes upon their errands to the 
 flowers. 
 
 I always thought it would come in spring, thought 
 the Count, as he listened to the pleasant sounds, and 
 
156 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 then held one of his yellow hands up to the window to 
 feel the freshness that was without. 
 
 He wondered how long it would be before Fische- 
 lowitz would come and tell the truth of the Gigerl s 
 story. By his knowledge of the time of daybreak, he 
 guessed that it was not yet much past four o clock, and 
 he doubted whether Fischelowitz would come before 
 eight. The tobacconist was a kind man, but a com 
 fortable one, loving his rest and his breakfast and his 
 ease at all times. Moreover, as the Count knew better 
 than any one else, Akulina would be rejoiced to hear 
 of the misadventure which had befallen her enemy and 
 would in no way hurry her husband upon his mission 
 of justice. She would doubtless consume an unusual 
 amount of time in the preparation of his coffee, she 
 would presumably tell him that the milkman had not 
 appeared punctually, and would probably assert that 
 there were as yet no rolls to be had. The immediate 
 consequence of these spiteful fictions would be that 
 Fischelowitz would dress himself very leisurely, swal 
 lowing the smoke of several cigarettes in the mean 
 while, and that he would hardly be clothed, fed and 
 out of the house before eight in the morning, instead 
 of being on the way to the shop at seven as was his 
 usual practice. 
 
 But the Count was not at all disturbed by this. The 
 persons whose coming he expected were not of the 
 
mi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 157 
 
 class who pay visits at eight o clock. It was as plea 
 sant to sit still and think of the glorious things in the 
 future, as to do anything else, until the great moment 
 came. Here, at least, he was undisturbed by the voices 
 of men, unless Dumnoff s portentous snore could be 
 called a voice, and to this his ear had grown accus 
 tomed. 
 
 He sat down again, therefore, in his old position, 
 crossed one knee over the other and again produced 
 the piece of crumpled newspaper which held his 
 tobacco. The supply was low, but he consoled him 
 self with the belief that Dumnoff probably had some 
 about him, and rolled what remained of his own for 
 immediate consumption. 
 
 He was quite right in his surmises concerning his 
 late employer and the latter s wife. Akulina had in 
 the first place let her husband sleep as long as he 
 pleased, and had allowed a considerable time to elapse 
 before informing him of the events of the previous 
 evening. As was to be expected, the good man stated 
 his intention of immediately procuring the Count s 
 liberation, and was only prevailed upon with difficulty 
 to taste his breakfast. One taste, however, convinced 
 him of the necessity of consuming all that was set 
 before him, and while he was thus actively employed 
 Akulina entered into the consideration of the theft, 
 recalling all the details she could remember about the 
 
158 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 intimacy supposed to exist between the Count and the 
 swindler in coloured glasses, and conscientiously show 
 ing the matter in all its aspects. 
 
 One fact remains/ she said, in conclusion, he pro 
 mised you upon his honour last night that he would 
 pay you the fifty marks to-day, and, in my opinion, 
 since he has been the means of your losing the Gigerl 
 after all, he ought to be made to pay the money. 
 
 And where can he get fifty marks to pay me ? 
 inquired Fischelowitz with careless good-humour. 
 
 Where he got the doll, I suppose/ said Akulina, 
 triumphantly completing the vicious circle in which 
 she caused her logic to move. 
 
 Fischelowitz smiled as he pushed away his cup, 
 rose and lighted a fresh cigarette. 
 
 You are a very good housekeeper, Akulina, my 
 love/ he observed. You always know how the money 
 goes. 
 
 That is more than can be said for some people/ 
 laughed Akulina. But never mind, Christian Gregoro- 
 vitch, your wife is only a weak woman, but she can 
 take care for two, never fear ! 
 
 Fischelowitz was of the same opinion as he, at last, 
 took his hat and left the house. To him, the whole 
 affair had a pleasant savour of humour about it, and 
 he was by no means so much disturbed as Johann 
 Schmidt or Vjera. He had lived in Munich many 
 
vin A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 159 
 
 years and understood very well the way in which 
 things are managed in the good-natured Bavarian 
 capital. A night in the police-station in the month of 
 May seemed by no means such a terrible affair, cer 
 tainly not a matter involving any great suffering to 
 any one concerned. Moreover it could not be helped, 
 a consideration which, when available, was a great 
 favourite with the rotund tobacconist. Whatever the 
 Count had done on the previous night, he said to him 
 self, was done past undoing; and though, if he had 
 found Akulina awake when he returned from spending 
 the evening with his friend, and if she had then told 
 him what had happened, he would certainly have made 
 haste to get the Count released yet, since Akulina 
 had been sound asleep, he had necessarily gone to bed 
 in ignorance of the story, to the temporary incon 
 venience of the arrested pair. 
 
 He was not long in procuring an order for the Count s 
 release, but DumnofFs case seemed to be considered as 
 by far the graver of the two, since he had actually 
 been guilty of grasping the sacred, green legs of two 
 policemen, at the time in the execution of their duty, 
 and of violently turning the aforesaid policemen upside 
 down in the public room of an eating-house. It was, 
 indeed, reckoned as favourable to him that he had 
 returned and submitted to being handcuffed without 
 offering further resistance, but it might have gone hard 
 
160 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 
 
 with him if Fischelowitz had not procured the co-opera 
 tion of a Munich householder and taxpayer to bail 
 him out until the inquiry should be made. It would 
 have been a serious matter for Fischelowitz to lose the 
 work of Dumnoff in his celebrated manufactory for 
 any length of time together, since it was all he could 
 do to meet the increasing demands for his wares with 
 his present staff of workers. 
 
 And how did you spend the night, Count ? he 
 inquired as they walked quickly down the street 
 together. Dumnoff had made off in the opposite 
 direction, in search of breakfast, after which he intended 
 to go directly to the shop, as though nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 I spent it very pleasantly, thank you, answered 
 the Count. The fact is that, with such an interesting 
 day before me, I should not have slept if I had been 
 at home. I have so much to think of, as you may 
 imagine, and so many preparations to make, that the 
 time cannot seem long with me. 
 
 I am glad of that/ said Fischelowitz, serenely. I 
 suppose we shall not see you to-day ? 
 
 Hardly hardly, replied the Count, as though con 
 sidering whether his engagements would allow him to 
 look in at the shop. You will certainly see me this 
 evening, at the latest/ he added, as if he had suddenly 
 recollected something. I have not forgotten that I 
 
vin A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 161 
 
 am to hand you fifty marks I only regret that you 
 should have lost the Gigerl, which, I think I have 
 heard you say, afforded you some amusement. How 
 ever, the money shall be in your hands without delay, 
 or with as little delay as possible. My friends will in 
 all probability arrive by the mid-day train and will, of 
 course, come to me at once. An hour or so to talk over 
 our affairs, and I shall then have leisure to come to 
 you for a few moments and to settle that unfortunate 
 affair. Not indeed, my dear Herr Fischelowitz, that I 
 have ever held myself responsible for the dishonest 
 young man who wore green spectacles. I was, indeed, a 
 loser by him myself, in an insignificant sum, and as 
 he turned out to be such an indifferent character, I do 
 not mind acknowledging the fact. I do not think it 
 can harm him, if I do. No. I was not responsible 
 for him to you, but since your excellent wife, Frau 
 Fischelowitz, labours under the impression that I was, 
 I am quite willing to accept the responsibility, and 
 shall therefore discharge the debt before night, as a 
 matter of honour/ 
 
 It is very kind of you, remarked the tobacconist, 
 smiling at the impressive manner in which the promise 
 was made. But of course, Count, if anything should 
 prevent the arrival of your friends, you will not 
 consider this to be an engagement. 
 
 Nothing will prevent the coming of those I expect, 
 
 AI 
 
162 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 iior, if anything could, would such an accident 
 prevent my fufilling an engagement which, since your 
 excellent wife s remarks last night, I do consider 
 binding upon my honour. And now, Herr Fischelowitz, 
 with my best thanks for your intervention this 
 morning, I will leave you. After the vicissitudes 
 to which I have been exposed during the last 
 twelve hours, my appearance is not what I could 
 wish it to be. I have the pleasure to wish you a very 
 good morning. 
 
 Shaking his companion heartily by the hand, the 
 Count bowed civilly and turned into an unfrequented 
 street. Fischelowitz looked after him a few seconds, as 
 though expecting that he would turn back and say 
 something more, and then walked briskly in the 
 direction of his shop. 
 
 He found Akulina standing at the door which led 
 into the workroom, in such a position as to be able to 
 serve a customer should any chance to enter, and yet 
 so placed as to see the greater part of her audience. 
 For she was holding forth volubly in her thick, strong 
 voice, giving her very decided opinion about the events 
 of the previous evening, the Count, considered in the 
 first place as a specimen of the human race, and 
 secondly, as in relation to his acts. Her hearers were 
 poor Vjera, her insignificant companion and the Cossack 
 who listened, so to say, without enthusiasm, unless the 
 
vin A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 163 
 
 occasional foolish giggle of the younger girl was to be 
 taken for the expression of applause. 
 
 I am thoroughly sick of his crazy ways/ she was 
 saying, and if he were not really such a good workman 
 we should have turned him out long ago. But he 
 really does make cigarettes very well, and with the 
 new shop about to be opened, and the demand there is 
 already, it is all we can do to keep people satisfied. 
 Not but what my husband has been talking lately of 
 getting a new workman from Vilna, and if he turns 
 out to be all that we expect, why the Count may go 
 about his business and we shall be left in peace at last. 
 Indeed it is high time. My poor nerves will not 
 stand many more such scenes as last night, and as for 
 my poor husband, I believe he has lost as much money 
 through the Count and his friends as he has paid to 
 him for work, and if you turn that into figures it makes 
 the cigarettes he rolls worth six marks a thousand 
 instead of three, which is more than any pocket can 
 stand, while there are children to be fed at home. 
 And if you have anything to say to that, little husband 
 why just say it ! 
 
 Fischelowitz had entered the shop and the last words 
 were addressed to him. 
 
 Oh, nothing, nothing, he answered, beginning to 
 buetle cheerily about the place, setting a box 
 straight here, removing an empty one there, opening 
 
164 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 the till and counting the small change, and, generally, 
 doing all those things which he was accustomed to do 
 when he appeared in the morning. 
 
 Poor Vjera looked paler and more waxen than ever 
 in her life before, so pale indeed was she that the total 
 absence of colour lent a sort of refinement to her plain 
 features, not often found even in really beautiful faces. 
 She had suffered intensely and was suffering still. 
 From the first words that Akulina had spoken she had 
 understood that the Count had been in the station- 
 house all night, and she found herself reviewing all 
 the hideous visions of his cruel treatment which she had 
 conjured up since the previous evening. Akulina 
 of course hastened to say that Fischelowitz had lost no 
 time in having the poor man set at liberty, and this 
 at least was a relief to Vjera s great anxiety. But 
 she wanted to hear far more than Akulina could or 
 would tell, she longed to know whether he had really 
 suffered as she fancied he had, and how he looked after 
 spending in a prison the night that had seemed so long 
 to her. She would have given anything to overwhelm 
 the tobacconist with questions, to ask for a minute 
 description of the Count s appearance, to express her 
 past terrors to some one and to have some one tell her 
 that they had been groundless. 
 
 But she dared not open her lips to speak of the 
 matters which filled her thoughts. She was so 
 
viii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 165 
 
 wretchedly nervous that she felt as though the tears 
 would break out at the sound of her own voice, and at 
 the same time she was disturbed by the consciousness 
 that Johann Schmidt s eyes watched her closely from 
 the corner in which he was steadily wielding his swivel 
 knife. It had been almost natural to tell him of her 
 love in the darkness of the streets, in the mad anxiety 
 for the loved one s safety, in the weariness and the 
 hopelessness of the night hours. But now, sitting at 
 her little table, at her daily work, with all the trivial 
 objects that belonged to it recalling her to the reality 
 of things, she realised that her day-dreams were no 
 longer her secret, and she was ashamed that any one 
 should guess the current of her thoughts. It was 
 hard for her to understand how she could have thus 
 taken the Cossack into her confidence, and she would 
 have made almost any sacrifice to take back the con 
 fession. Good he was, and honest, and kind-hearted, 
 but she was ashamed of what she had done. It seemed 
 to her that, besides giving up to another the knowledge 
 of her heart, she had also done something against the 
 dignity of him she loved. She herself felt no 
 superiority over Johann Schmidt ; they were equals in 
 every way. But she did feel, and strongly, that the 
 Cossack was not the equal of the Count, and she 
 reproached herself with having made a confidant of one 
 beneath her idol in station and refinement. This 
 
1G6 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 feeling sprang from such a multiplicity of sources, as 
 almost to defy explanation. There was, at the bottom 
 of it, the strange, unreasoning notion of the superiority 
 of one class over another by right of blood, from which 
 no race seems to be wholly exempt, and which has 
 produced such surprising results in the world. Poor 
 Vjera had been brought up in one of those countries 
 where that tradition is still strongest. The mere sound 
 of the word Count evoked a body of impressions so 
 firmly rooted, so deeply ingrained, as necessarily to 
 influence her judgment. The outward manner of the 
 man did the rest, his dignity under all circumstanceSj 
 his uncomplaining patience, his unquestioning gener 
 osity, his quiet courtesy to every one. There was some 
 thing in every word he spoke, in his every action, 
 which distinguished him from his companions. They 
 themselves felt it. He was sometimes ridiculous, poor 
 man, and they laughed together over his carefully 
 chosen language, over the grand sweep of his bow and 
 his punctilious attention to the smallest promise or 
 shadow of a promise. These things amused them, but 
 at the same time they felt that he could never be what 
 they were, and that those manners and speeches of his, 
 which, if they had imitated them, would have seemed 
 in themselves so many forms of vulgarity, were some 
 how not vulgar in him. Vjera, as she loved him, felt 
 all this far more keenly than the others. And besides, 
 
Viii A CIGAKETTE-MAKEIi s ROMANCE 167 
 
 to add to her embarrassment at present, there was the 
 girl s maidenly shyness and timidity. Since she had 
 told Johann Schmidt her secret, she felt as though all 
 eyes were upon her, and as though every one were 
 about to turn upon her with those jesting questions 
 which coarse natures regard as expressions of sympathy 
 where love is concerned. And yet no one spoke to 
 her, nor disturbed her. There was only the disquieting 
 consciousness of the Cossack s curious scrutiny to 
 remind her that all things were not as they had been 
 yesterday. 
 
 The hours of the morning seemed endless. On all 
 other days, Vjera was accustomed to see the Count s 
 quiet face opposite to her, and when she was most 
 weary of her monotonous toil, a glance at him gave 
 her fresh courage, and turned the currents of her 
 thoughts into a channel not always smooth indeed, but 
 long familiar and never wearisome to follow. The 
 stream emptied, it is true, into the dead sea of doubt, 
 and each time, as she ended the journey of her fancy, 
 she felt the cruel chill of the conclusion, as though she 
 had in reality fallen into a deep, dark water; but she 
 was always able to renew the voyage, to return to the 
 fountain-head of love, enjoying at least the pleasant, 
 smooth reaches of the river, that lay between the racing 
 rapids and the tumbling falls. 
 
 But to-day there was no one at the little table 
 
168 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 opposite, and Vj era s reflections would not be guided 
 in their familiar course. Her heart yearned for the 
 lonely man who, on that day, sat in the solitude of his 
 poor chamber confidently expecting the messengers of 
 good tidings who never came. She wondered what 
 expression was on his face, as he watched the door and 
 listened for the fall of feet upon the stairs. She knew, 
 for she knew his nature, that he had carefully dressed 
 himself in what he had that was best, in order to 
 receive decently the long-expected visit ; she fancied 
 that he would move thoughtfully about the narrow 
 room, trying to give it a feebly festive look in accord 
 ance with his own inward happiness. He would for 
 get to eat, as he sat there, hearing the hours chime 
 one after another, seeing the sun rise higher and 
 higher until noon and watching the lengthening 
 shadows of the chimneys on the roofs as day declined. 
 More than all, she wondered what that dreadful moment 
 could be like when, each week, he gave up hope at 
 last, and saw that it had all been a dream. She had 
 seen him more than once, towards the evening of the 
 regularly recurring day, still confidently expecting the 
 coming of his friends, explaining that they must come 
 by the last train, and hastening away in order to be 
 ready to receive them. Somewhere between the 
 Wednesday evening and the Thursday morning there 
 must be an hour, of which she hardly dared to think, 
 
viii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 169 
 
 in which all was made clear to him, or in which a veil 
 descended over all, shutting out in merciful obscurity 
 the brilliant vision and the bitter disappointment. If 
 she could only be with him at that moment, she 
 thought, she might comfort him, she might make his 
 sufferings more easy to bear, and at the idea the tears 
 that were so near rose nearer still to the flowing, kept 
 back only by shame of being seen. 
 
 It was a terrible day, and everything jarred upon 
 the poor girl s nature, from Akulina s thick, strong 
 voice, continually discussing the question of marks and 
 pennies, with occasional allusions to late events, to the 
 disagreeable, scratching, paring sound of the Cossack s 
 heavy knife as it cut its way through the great packages 
 of leaves. The mid-day hour afforded no relief, for the 
 pressure of work was great and each of the workers 
 had brought a little food to be eaten in haste and 
 almost without a change of position. For the work 
 was paid for in proportion to its quantity, and the 
 poor people were glad enough when there was so much 
 to do, since there was then just so much more to be 
 earned. There were times when the demand was 
 slack and when Fischelowitz would not keep his people 
 at their tables for more than two or three hours in a 
 day. They might occupy the rest of their time as 
 they could, and earn something in other ways, if they 
 were able. When those hard times came poor Vjera 
 
170 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 picked up a little sewing, paid for at starvation rates, 
 Johann Schmidt turned his hand to the repairing of furs, 
 in which he had some skill, and which is an art in 
 itself, and Dumnoff varied his existence by exercising 
 great economy in the matter of food without making a 
 similar reduction in the allowance of his drink. Under 
 ordinary circumstances Vjera would have rejoiced at 
 the quantity of work to be done, and as it was, her 
 mental suffering did not make her fingers awkward or 
 less nervously eager in the perpetual rolling of the 
 little pieces of paper round the glass tube. Even 
 acute physical pain is often powerless to affect the 
 mechanical skill of a hand trained for many years to 
 repeat the same little operation thousands of times in 
 a day with unvarying perfection. Vjera worked as 
 well and as quickly as ever, though the hours seemed 
 so endlessly long as to make her wonder why she did 
 not turn out more work than usual. From time to 
 time the two men exchanged more or less personal 
 observations after their manner. 
 
 It seems to me that you work better than usual, 
 remarked the Cossack, looking at Dunmoff. 
 
 I feel better/ laughed the latter. I feel as 
 though I had been having a holiday and a country 
 dance. 
 
 For the sake of your health, you ought to have a 
 little excitement now and then, continued Schmidt. 
 
vrn A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 17 1 
 
 It is hard for a man of your constitution to be 
 shut up day after day as you are here. A little 
 bear-fight now and then would do you almost as 
 much good as an extra bottle of brandy, besides being 
 cheaper. 
 
 Yes. Dumnoff yawned, displaying all his ferocious 
 white teeth to the assembled company. That is true 
 and then, those green cloth policemen look so funny 
 when one upsets them. I wish I had a few here. 
 
 You have not heard the last of your merry-making 
 yet, said Fischelowitz, who was standing in the door 
 way. If I had not got you out this morning you 
 would still be in the police-station. 
 
 There is something in that, observed Schmidt. 
 If he were not out, he would still be in. 
 
 Well, if I were, I should still be asleep, said 
 Dumnoff. That would not be so bad, after all. 
 
 You may be there again before long, suggested 
 Fischelowitz. You know there is to be an inquiry. 
 I only hope you will do plenty of work before they 
 lock you up for a fortnight. 
 
 I suppose they will let me work in prison, 
 answered Dumnoff, indifferently. They do in some 
 places. 
 
 Vjera, whose ideas of prisons have been already 
 explained at length, was so much surprised that she 
 at last opened her lips. 
 
172 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Have you ever been in prison ? she asked in a 
 wondering tone. 
 
 Several times/ replied the other, without looking 
 up. But always/ he added, as though suddenly 
 anxious for his reputation, always for that sort of 
 thing for upsetting somebody who did not want to 
 be upset. It is a curious thing I always do it in the 
 same way, and they always tumble down. One would 
 think people would learn he paused as though con 
 sidering a profound problem. 
 
 Perhaps they are not always the same people/ 
 remarked the Cossack. 
 
 That is true. That may have something to do 
 with it/ The ex-coachman relapsed into silence. 
 
 But, is it not very dreadful in prison ? asked 
 Vjera rather timidly, after a short pause. 
 
 No if one can sleep well, the time passes very 
 pleasantly. Of course, one is not always as comfortable 
 as we were last night. That is not to be expected/ 
 
 Comfortable ! exclaimed the girl in surprise. 
 
 Well we had a nice room with a good light, and 
 there happened to be nobody else in for the night. It 
 was dry and clean and well furnished rather hard 
 beds, I believe, though I scarcely noticed them. We 
 smoked and talked some time and then I went to 
 sleep. Oh, yes I passed a very pleasant evening, and 
 a comfortable night. 
 
vin A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 173 
 
 But I thought Vjera hesitated, as though fear 
 ing that she was going to say something foolish. I 
 thought that prisoners always had chains/ she said, at 
 last. 
 
 Everybody laughed loudly at this remark and the 
 poor girl felt very much ashamed of herself, though 
 the question had seemed so natural and had been in 
 her mind a long time. It was an immense relief, how 
 ever, to know that things had not been so bad as she 
 had imagined, and DumnofFs description of the place of 
 his confinement was certainly reassuring. 
 
 As the endless day wore on, she began to glance 
 anxiously towards the door, straining her ears for a 
 familiar footstep in the outer shop. As has been said, 
 the Count sometimes looked in on Wednesdays, when 
 his calculations had convinced him that his friends, not 
 having arrived by one train, could not be expected for 
 several hours. But to-day he did not come, to-day 
 when Vjera would have given heaven and earth for a 
 sight of him. Never, in her short life, had she realised 
 how slowly the hours could limp along from sunrise to 
 noon, from noon to sunset, never had the little spot 
 of sunlight which appeared in the back-shop on fine 
 afternoons taken so long to crawl its diagonal course 
 from the left front-leg of DumnofF s table, where it made 
 its appearance, to the right-hand corner of her own, at 
 which point it suddenly went out and was seen no 
 
174 A CIGARETTE MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. Viil 
 
 more, being probably intercepted by some fixed object 
 outside. 
 
 Time is the measure of most unhappiness, for it is 
 in sorrow and anxiety that we are most keenly con 
 scious of it, and are oppressed by its leaden weight. 
 When we are absorbed in work, in study, in the 
 production of anything upon which all our faculties are 
 concentrated, we say that the time passes quickly. 
 When we are happy we know nothing of time nor of 
 its movement, only, long afterwards, we look back, and 
 we say, How short the hours seemed then ! 
 
 Vjera toiled on and on, watching the creeping 
 sunshine on the floor, glancing at the ever-increasing 
 heap of cut leaves that fell from the Cossack s cutting- 
 block, noting the slow rise in the pile of paper shells 
 before her and comparing it with that produced by the 
 girl at her elbow, longing for the moment when she 
 would see the freshly-made cigarettes just below the 
 inner edge of DumnofFs basket, taking account of every 
 little thing by which to persuade herself that the day 
 was declining and the evening at hand. 
 
 Her life was sad and monotonous enough at the 
 best of times. It seemed as though the accidents of 
 the night had made it by contrast ten times more sad 
 and monotonous and hopeless than before. 
 
CHAPTEE IX 
 
 THE Count, as Vjera supposed, had dressed himself 
 with even greater care than usual in anticipation of 
 the official visit, and while she was working through 
 the never-ending hours of her weary day, he was 
 calmly seated upon a chair by the open window in 
 his little room, one leg crossed over the other, one 
 hand thrust into the bosom of his coat and the other 
 extended idly upon the table by his side. His features 
 expressed the perfect calm and satisfaction of a man 
 who knows that something very pleasant is about to 
 happen, who has prepared himself for it, and who sits 
 in the midst of his swept and garnished dwelling in an 
 attitude of pleased expectancy. 
 
 The Count s face was tired, indeed, and there were 
 dark circles under his sunken grey eyes, brought there 
 by loss of sleep as much as by an habitual facility for 
 forgetting to eat and drink. But in the eyes them 
 selves there was a bright, unusual light, as though 
 some brilliant spectacle were reflected in them out of 
 the immediate future. There was colour, too, in his 
 
176 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 lean cheeks, a slight flush like that which comes into 
 certain dark faces with the anticipation of any keen 
 pleasure. As he sat in his chair, he looked constantly 
 at the door of the room, as though expecting it to open 
 at any moment. From time to time, voices and 
 footsteps were heard on the stairs, far below. When 
 any of these sounds reached him, the Count rose 
 gravely from his seat, and stood in the middle of the 
 room, slowly rubbing his hands together, listening 
 again, moving a step to the one side or the other and 
 back again, in the mechanical manner of a person to 
 whom a visitor has been announced and who expects 
 to see him appear almost immediately. But the 
 footsteps echoed and died away and the voices were 
 still again. The Count stood still a few moments 
 when this happened, satisfying himself that he had 
 been mistaken, and then, shaking his head and once 
 more passing his hands round each other, he resumed 
 his seat and his former attitude. He listened also for 
 the chiming of the hours, and when he was sure that 
 an hour had passed since the arrival of his imaginary 
 express train, he rose again, looked out of the window, 
 watched the wheeling of the house swallows, and as 
 sumed an air of momentary indifference. The next ring 
 ing of the clock bells revived the illusion. Another train 
 was doubtless just running into the station, and in a 
 quarter of an hour his friends might be with him. 
 
rx 
 
 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 177 
 
 There was no time to be lost. The flush returned 
 to his cheeks as he hastily combed his smooth hair 
 for the twentieth time, examining his appearance 
 minutely in the dingy, spotted mirror, brushing his 
 clothes far too well brushed these many years and 
 lastly making sure that there was no weak point in 
 the adjustment of his false collar. He made another 
 turn of inspection round his little room, feeling sure 
 that there was just time to see that all was right and 
 in order, but already beginning to listen for a noise 
 of approaching people on the stairs. Once more he 
 straightened and arranged the patched coverlet of 
 Turkey red cotton upon the bed, so that it should 
 hide the pillows and the sheets; once more he ad 
 justed the clean towel neatly upon the wooden peg 
 over the washing-stand, discreetly concealing the one 
 he had used in the drawer of the table ; for the last 
 time he made sure that the chair which had the 
 broken leg was in such close and perfect contact 
 with the wall as to make it safely serviceable if not 
 rashly removed into a wider sphere of action. Then, 
 as he passed the chest of drawers, he gave a final 
 touch to the half-dozen ragged -edged books which 
 composed his library three volumes of Puschkin, of 
 three different editions, Ivan KrylofTs Poems and 
 Fables, Gogol s Terrible Revenge, Tolstoi s How People 
 Live, and two or three more, including Koltsoff, the 
 
178 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 shepherd poet, and an ancient guide to the city of 
 Kiew as heterogeneous a collection of works as 
 could be imagined, yet all notable in their way, except, 
 indeed, the guide-book, for beauty, power, or touching 
 truth. 
 
 And when he had touched and straightened every 
 thing in the room, he returned to his seat, calmly 
 expectant as ever, to wait for the footsteps on the 
 stairs, to rise and rub his hands, if the sound reached 
 him, to shake his head gravely if he were again dis 
 appointed, in short to go through the same little round 
 of performance as before until some chiming clock 
 suggested to his imagination that the train had come 
 and brought no one, and that he might enjoy an 
 interval of distraction in looking out of the window 
 until the next one arrived. The Count must have 
 had a very exaggerated idea of the facility of com 
 munication between Munich and Russia, for he 
 assuredly stood waiting for his friends, combed, 
 brushed, and altogether at his best, more than twenty 
 times between the morning and the evening. As the 
 day declined, indeed, his imaginary railway station 
 must have presented a scene of dangerous confusion, 
 for his international express trains seemed to come in 
 quicker and quicker succession, until he barely had 
 time to look out of the window before it became 
 necessary to comb his hair again in order to be ready 
 
ix A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 179 
 
 for the next possible arrival. At last he walked per 
 petually on a monotonous beat from the window to 
 the mirror, from the mirror to the door, and from the 
 door to the mirror again. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped and tapped his forehead with 
 his hand. The sun was setting and the last of his 
 level rays shot over the sea of roofs and the forest of 
 chimneys and entered the little room in a broad red 
 stream, illuminating the lean, nervous figure as it stood 
 still in the ruddy light. 
 
 Good Heavens ! exclaimed the Count, in a tone 
 of great anxiety, I have forgotten Fischelowitz and his 
 money. 
 
 There was a considerable break in the continuity of 
 the imaginary time-table, for he stood still a long time, 
 in deep thought. He was arguing the case in his 
 mind. What he had promised was, to consider the 
 fifty marks as a debt of honour. Now a debt of 
 honour must be paid within twenty-four hours. No 
 doubt, thought the Count, it would not be altogether 
 impossible to consider the twenty-four hours as ex 
 tending from midnight to midnight. The Eussians 
 have an expression which means a day and a night 
 together they call that space of time the sutki, and 
 it is a more or less elastic term, as we say from day 
 to day/ from one evening to another. Rooms in 
 Russian hotels are let by the sutki, railway tickets 
 
180 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 are valid for one or more sutki, and the Count might 
 have chosen to consider that his sutki extended from 
 the time when he had spoken to Fischelowitz until 
 twelve o clock on the following night. But he had 
 no means of knowing exactly what the time had been 
 when he had been in the shop, and his punctilious 
 ideas of honour drove him to under -estimate the 
 number of hours still at his disposal. Moreover, and 
 this last consideration determined his action, if he 
 brought the money too late it was to be feared that 
 Fischelowitz would have shut up the shop, after which 
 there would be no certainty of finding him. The 
 Count wished to make the restitution of the money in 
 Akulina s presence, but he was also determined to give 
 the fifty marks directly to the tobacconist. 
 
 He saw that the sun was going down, and that 
 there was no time to be lost. It occurred to him at 
 the same instant that if he was to pay the debt at all, 
 he must find money for that purpose, and although, in 
 his own belief, he was to be master of a large fortune 
 in the course of the evening, no scheme for raising so 
 considerable a sum as fifty marks presented itself to 
 his imagination. Poor as he was, he was far more 
 used to lending than to borrowing, and more accustomed 
 to giving than to either. He regretted, now, that he 
 had bound himself to pay the debt to-day. It would 
 have been so easy to name the next day but one. But 
 
ix A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 181 
 
 who could have foreseen that his friends would miss 
 that particular train and only arrive late in the 
 evening ? 
 
 He paced his room in growing anxiety, his trouble 
 increasing in exact proportion with the decrease of the 
 daylight. 
 
 Fifty marks ! he exclaimed, in dismay, as he 
 realised more completely the dilemma in which he was 
 placed. * Fifty marks ! It is an enormous sum to find 
 at a moment s notice. If they had only telegraphed me 
 a credit at once, I could have got it from a bank a 
 bank yes but they do not know me. That is it. 
 They do not know me. And then, it is late. 
 
 The drops of perspiration stood on his pale fore 
 head as he began to walk again. He glanced at his 
 possessions and turned from the contemplation of 
 them in renewed despair. Many a time, before, he 
 had sought among his very few belongings for some 
 object upon which a pawnbroker might advance five 
 marks, and he had sought in vain. The furniture of 
 the room was not his, and beyond the furniture the 
 room contained little enough. He had parted long 
 ago with an old silver watch, of which the chain had 
 even sooner found its way to the lender s. A long- 
 cherished ring had disappeared last winter, by an odd 
 coincidence, at the very time when Johann Schmidt s 
 oldest child was lying ill with diphtheria. As for 
 
182 A CIGAKETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 clothing, he had nothing to offer. The secrets of his 
 outward appearance were known to him alone, but 
 they were of a nature to discourage the hope oi 
 raising money on coat or trousers. A few well- 
 thumbed volumes of Eussian authors could not be 
 expected to find a brilliant sale in Munich at a 
 moment s notice. He looked about, and he saw that 
 there was nothing, and he turned very pale. 
 
 And yet, before midnight, it must be paid/ he 
 said. Then his face brightened again. Before 
 midnight but they will be here before then, of course. 
 Perhaps I may borrow the money for a few hours. 
 
 But in order to do this, or to attempt it, he must 
 go out. What if his friends arrived at the moment 
 when he was out of the house ? 
 
 No/ he said, consulting his imaginary time-table, 
 there is no train now, for a couple of hours, at least. 
 
 He took up his hat and turned to go. It struck 
 him, however, that to provide against all possible 
 accidents it would be as well to leave some written 
 word upon his table, and he took up a sheet of writing 
 paper and a pen. It was remarkable that there was 
 a good supply of the former on the table, and that the 
 inkstand contained ink in a fluid state, as though the 
 Count were in the habit of using it daily. He wrote 
 rapidly, in Russian. 
 
 This line is to inform you that Count Skariatine 
 
ix A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 183 
 
 is momentarily absent from his lodging on a matter 
 of urgent importance, connected with a personal 
 engagement. He will return as soon as possible and 
 requests that you will have the goodness to wait, if 
 you should happen to arrive while he is out. 
 
 He set the piece of notepaper upright, in a promi 
 nent position upon the table, and exactly opposite 
 to the door. He did not indeed recollect that in the 
 course of half an hour the room would be quite dark, 
 and he was quite satisfied that he had taken every 
 reasonable precaution against missing his visitors 
 altogether. Once more he seized his hat, and a 
 moment later he was descending the long flights of 
 stairs towards the street. As he went, the magnitude 
 of the sum of money he needed appalled him, and by 
 the time he stepped out upon the pavement into the 
 fresh evening air, he was in a state of excitement 
 and anxiety which bordered on distraction. His brain 
 refused to act any longer, and he was utterly incapable 
 of thinking consecutively of anything, still less of 
 solving a problem so apparently incapable of solution 
 as was involved in the question of finding fifty marks 
 at an hour s notice. It was practically of little use to 
 repeat the words * Fifty marks incessantly and in an 
 audible voice, to the great surprise of the few pedes 
 trians he met. It was far from likely that any of 
 them would consider themselves called upon to stop 
 
184 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 in their walk and to produce two large gold pieces and 
 a small one, for the benefit of an odd-looking stranger. 
 And yet, as he hurried along the street, the poor Count 
 had not the least idea where he was going, and if he 
 should chance to reach any definite destination in his 
 erratic course he would certainly be much puzzled 
 to decide what he was to do upon his arrival. The 
 one thing which remained clearly defined in his shaken 
 intelligence was that he must pay to Fischelowitz the 
 money promised within the limit of time agreed upon, 
 or be disgraced for ever in his own eyes, as well as 
 in the estimation of the world at large. The latter 
 catastrophe would be bad enough, but nothing short 
 of self-destruction could follow upon his condemnation 
 of himself. 
 
 A special Providence is said to watch over the 
 movements of madmen, sleep-walkers and drunkards. 
 Those who find difficulty in believing in the direct 
 intervention of Heaven in very trivial matters of every 
 day life, are satisfied to put a construction of less 
 tremendous import upon the facts in cases concerning 
 the preservation of their irresponsible brethren. A 
 great deal may be accounted for by considering what 
 are the instincts of the body when momentarily 
 liberated from the directing guidance of the mind. It 
 has been already noticed in the course of this story 
 that, when the Count did not know where he was 
 
ix A CIGAKETTE-MAKEK S ROMANCE 185 
 
 going, he was generally making the best of his way to 
 the establishment in which so much of his time was 
 passed. This is exactly what took place on the 
 present occasion. Conscious only of his debt, and not 
 knowing where to find money with which to pay it, 
 he was unwittingly hurrying towards the very place 
 in which the payment was to be made, and, within a 
 quarter of an hour of his leaving his lodging, he found 
 himself standing on the pavement, over against the 
 tobacconist s shop, stupidly gazing at the glass door, 
 the well-known sign and the familiar, dilapidated 
 chalet of cigarettes which held a prominent place in 
 the show window. No longer ago than yesterday 
 afternoon the little Swiss cottage had been flanked by 
 the Wiener Gigeii, whose smart red coat and insolent 
 face had been the cause of so much disaster and 
 anxiety during the past twenty-four hours. The very 
 fact that the doll was no longer there, in its accus 
 tomed place, served to remind the Count of his rash 
 promise to pay the money and dangerously increased 
 the excitement which already possessed him. He 
 wiped the cold drops from his brow and leaned for a 
 moment against the brick wall behind him. He 
 was dizzy, confused and tired. 
 
 The tormenting thought that was driving him 
 recalled his failing consciousness of outer things. He 
 straightened himself again and made a step forward, 
 
186 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 as though he would cross the street, but paused again 
 before his foot had left the pavement. Then he asked 
 of his senses how he had got to the place where he 
 stood. He did not remember traversing the familiar 
 highways and byways by which he was accustomed 
 daily to make his way from his lodging to the shop. 
 Every object on the way had long been so well known 
 to him as to cause a permanent impression in his 
 brain, which was distinctly visible to him whenever 
 he thought of the walk in any way, whether he had 
 just been over the ground or not. He could not now 
 account to himself for his being so near Fischelowitz s 
 shop, and he found it impossible to decide whether he 
 had come thither by his usual route or not. It was 
 still harder to explain the reason for his coming, since 
 the fifty marks were no nearer to his hand than before, 
 and without them it was useless to think of entering. 
 As he stood there, hesitating and trying to grasp the 
 situation more clearly, it grew, on the contrary, more 
 and more confused. At the same time the bells of a 
 neighbouring church struck the hour, and the clanging 
 tone revived in his mind the other impression, which 
 had possessed it all day, the impression that his friends 
 were at that moment arriving at the railway station. 
 The confusion in his thoughts became intolerable, and 
 he covered his eyes with one hand, steadying himself 
 by pressing the other against the wall. 
 
ix A CIGAKETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 187 
 
 He did not know how long he had stood thus, 
 when an anxious voice recalled him to outer things 
 a voice in which love, sympathy, tenderness and 
 anxiety for him had taken possession of the weak 
 tones and lent them a passing thrill of touching music. 
 
 In Heaven s name what is it ? Speak to me I 
 am Vjera here, beside you/ 
 
 He looked up suddenly, and seemed to recover his 
 self-possession. 
 
 You came just in time, Vjera God bless you. 
 
 I he hesitated. I think I must have been a 
 
 little dizzy with the heat. It is a warm evening a 
 very warm evening. 
 
 He pressed an old silk pocket-handkerchief to his 
 moist brow, the pocket-handkerchief which he always 
 had about him, freshly ironed and smoothly folded, on 
 the day when he expected his friends. Vjera, her 
 face pale with distress, passed her arm through his 
 and made as though she would walk with him down 
 the gentle slope of the street, which leads in the 
 direction of the older city. He suffered himself to be 
 led a few steps in silence. 
 
 Where are you going, Vjera ? he asked, stopping 
 again and looking into her face. 
 
 Wherever you like/ she said, trying to speak 
 cheerfully. She saw that something terrible was 
 happening, and it was only by a desperate effort that 
 
188 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 she controlled the violent hysterical emotion that rose 
 like a great lump in her throat. 
 
 Ah, that is it, Vjera, he answered. That is it. 
 Where shall I go, child ? Then he laughed nervously. 
 The fact is, he continued, that I am in a very 
 absurd position. I do not at all know what to do. 
 
 Perhaps he had tried to give himself courage by 
 the attempt to laugh, but, in that case, he had failed 
 for the present. In spite of his words his despair was 
 evident. His usually erect carriage was gone. His 
 head sank wearily forward, his shoulders rounded 
 themselves as though under a burden, his feet dragged 
 a little as he tried to walk on again, and he leaned 
 heavily on the young girl s arm. 
 
 What is it ? she asked. Tell me perhaps I 
 can help you I mean I beg your pardon/ she added, 
 humbly, perhaps it would help you to speak of it. 
 That sometimes makes things seem clearer just when 
 they have been most confused. 
 
 Perhaps so, Vjera, perhaps so. You are a very 
 good girl, and you came just in time. I love you, 
 Vj era do not forget that I love you. His voice was 
 by turns sharp and suddenly low and monotonous, like 
 that of a man talking in sleep. Altogether his manner 
 was so strange that poor Vjera feared the very worst. 
 The extremity of her anxiety kept her from losing her 
 self-possession. For the first time in her life she felt 
 
ix A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 189 
 
 that she was the stronger of the two, and that if he 
 was to be saved it must be by her efforts rather than 
 by anything he was now able to do for himself. She 
 loved him, mad or sane, with an admiration and a 
 devotion which took no account of his intellectual state 
 except to grieve over it for his own sake. The belief 
 that in this crisis she might be of use to him, strongly 
 conquered the rising hysterical passion, and drove the 
 tears so far from her eyes that she wondered vaguely 
 why she had been so near to shedding them a few 
 moments sooner. She pressed his arm with her hand. 
 
 1 And I, too, I love you, with all my heart and soul, 
 she said. And if you will tell me what has happened, 
 I will do what I can if it were my life that were 
 needed. I know I can help you, for God will help 
 me. 
 
 He raised his head a little and again stood still, 
 gazing into her eyes with an odd sort of childish 
 wonder. 
 
 What makes you so strong, Vjera ? You used to 
 be a weak little thing. 
 
 Love, she answered. 
 
 It was strange to see such a man, outwardly lean, 
 tough -looking, well put together and active, though 
 not, indeed, powerful, looking at the poor white-faced 
 girl and asking the secret of her strength, as though 
 he envied it. But at that moment, the natural situa- 
 
190 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 tion was reversed. His eyes were lustreless, tired, 
 without energy. Hers were suddenly bright and flash 
 ing with determination, and with the expression of her 
 new-found will Vjera felt that all at once a change 
 had come over her, the weak strings of her heart grew 
 strong, the dreamy hopelessness of her thoughts fell 
 away, leaving one clearly denned resolution in its 
 place. The man she loved was going mad, and she 
 would save him, cost what it might. 
 
 That Faith, no larger than the tiniest mustard seed, 
 but able to toss the mountains, as pebbles, from their 
 foundations into the sea, is the determination to do 
 the thing chosen to be done or to die literally, to 
 die in the trying to do it. Death is farther from 
 most of us than we fancy, and if we would but risk 
 all, to win or lose all, we could almost always do the 
 deed which looks so grimly impossible. Those who 
 have faced great physical dangers, or who have been 
 matched by fate against overwhelming odds of anxiety 
 and trouble, alone know what great things are done 
 when men stand at bay and face the world, and fate, 
 and life, and death and misfortune, all banded together 
 against them, and say in their hearts, We will win 
 this fight or die. Then, at that word, when it is 
 spoken earnestly, in sincerity and truth, the iron will 
 rises up and takes possession of the feeble body, the 
 doubting soul shakes off its hesitating weakness, is 
 
ix A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 191 
 
 drawn back upon itself like a strong bow bent double, 
 is compressed and full of a terrible latent power, 
 like the handful of deadly explosive which, buried in 
 the bosom of the rock, will presently shake the mighty 
 cliff to its roots, as no thunderbolt could shake it. 
 
 Vjera had made up her mind that she would save 
 the man she loved from the destruction which was 
 coming upon him. How he was to be saved, she 
 knew not, but then and there, on the pavement of the 
 commonplace Munich street, she made her stand and 
 faced the odds, as bravely as ever soldier faced the 
 enemy s triumphant charge, though she was only a 
 forlorn little Polish shell-maker, without much health 
 or strength, and having very little understanding of the 
 danger beyond that which was given to her by her love. 
 
 She fixed her eyes upon the Count s face as though 
 she would have him obey her. 
 
 I will help you, and make everything right, she 
 said. But you must tell me what the trouble is. 
 
 * But how can you help me, child ? he asked, 
 beginning to grow calmer under her clear gaze. It 
 is such a very complicated case, he continued, falling 
 back gradually into his own natural manner. You 
 see, my friends have probably arrived by this train, 
 and yet I cannot go home until I have set this other 
 matter right with Fischelowitz. It is true, I have left 
 a word written for them on my table, and perhaps they 
 
192 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 are there now, waiting for me, and if I went home I 
 could have the money at once. But then it may be 
 too late before I get here again 
 
 What money ? asked Vjera, anxious to get at the 
 truth without delay. 
 
 Oh, it is an absurd thing, he answered, growing 
 nervous again. Quite absurd and yet, it is fifty 
 marks and until they come, I do not see what to do. 
 Fifty marks to-day it seems so much, and to-morrow 
 it will seem so little ! He made a poor attempt to 
 smile, but his voice trembled. 
 
 But these fifty marks what do you need them 
 for to-night ? Vjera asked, not understanding at all. 
 Will not to-morrow do as well ? 
 
 Xo, no ! he cried in renewed anxiety, f It must 
 be to-night, now, this very hour. If I do not pay the 
 money, I am ruined, Vjera, disgraced for ever. It is 
 a debt of honour you do not understand what that 
 means, child, nor how terrible it is for a man not to 
 pay before the day is over ah, if it were not a debt 
 of honour ! but there is no time to be lost. It is 
 almost dark already. Go home, dear Vjera, go home, 
 I cannot go with you to-night, for I must find this 
 money. Good-night and then to-morrow I have not 
 forgotten, and you must not forget but there is no 
 time now good-night ! 
 
 He suddenly broke away from her side and began 
 
rx A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 193 
 
 walking quickly in the opposite direction, his head 
 bent down, his arms swinging by his side. She ran 
 after him and again took his arm, and looked into his face. 
 
 You must not go away like this/ she said, so 
 firmly and with so much authority that he stood still. 
 You have only half explained the trouble to me, but 
 I can help you. A debt of honour, you say what 
 will happen if you do not pay it ? 
 
 I must die/ answered the Count. { I could never 
 respect myself again. 
 
 You have borrowed this money of Fischelowitz and 
 promised to pay it to-day ? Is that it ? Tell me. 
 
 No I never borrowed it. No, no it was that 
 villain, last winter, who gave him the Gigerl 
 
 And Fischelowitz expects you to pay that ! cried 
 Vjera, indignantly. It is impossible. 
 
 When I took the Gigerl away last night I promised 
 to bring the fifty marks by to-night. I gave my word, 
 my word as a gentleman, Vjera, which I cannot break 
 my word, as a gentleman/ he repeated with some 
 thing of his old dignity. 
 
 It is monstrous that Fischelowitz should have 
 taken such a promise/ said Vjera. 
 
 That does not alter the obligation/ answered the 
 Count proudly. Besides, I gave it of my own accord. 
 I did not wait for him to ask it, after his wife accused 
 me of being the means of his losing the money/ 
 
194 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Oh, how could she be so heartless ! Vjera ex 
 claimed. 
 
 What was the use of telling you ? I did not mean 
 to. Good-night, Vjera dear I must be quick. He 
 tried to leave her, but she held him fast. 
 
 I will get you the money at once, she said 
 desperately and without the least hesitation. He 
 started, in the utmost astonishment, staring at her as 
 though he fancied that she had lost her senses. 
 
 You ! Why, Vjera, how can you imagine that I 
 would take it from you, or how do you think it would 
 be possible for you to find it ? You are mad, my dear 
 child, quite mad ! 
 
 In spite of everything, the tears broke from her 
 eyes at the words which meant so much to her and 
 which seemed to mean so little to him. But she brushed 
 them bravely away. 
 
 You say you love me you know that I love you. 
 Do you trust me ? Do you believe in me ? And if 
 you do, why then believe that I will do what I say. 
 And as for taking the fifty marks from me will not 
 your friends be here to-night, as you say, and will you 
 not be able to give it all back very soon? Only wait 
 here or no, go into the shop and talk to Fischelowitz 
 I will bring it to you in less than an hour, I promise 
 you that I will 
 
 But how ? Oh, Vjera I am in such trouble that 
 
ix A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 195 
 
 I could almost bring myself to borrow it of you if you 
 could lend it I despise myself, but it is growing so 
 late, and it will only be until to-morrow, only for a 
 few hours perhaps. If you will wait to-night I 
 may bring it to you before bedtime. But are you 
 sure, Vjera ? Have you really got it ? If I should 
 wait here -and you should not find it and my 
 word should be broken 
 
 For your word I give you mine. You shall have 
 it in an hour. She tried to throw so much certainty 
 into her tone as might persuade him, and she succeeded. 
 Where will you wait for me ? In the shop ? she asked. 
 
 No not there. In the Cafe* here I am tired 
 I will sit down and drink a cup of coffee. I think I 
 have a little money enough for that. He smiled 
 faintly as he felt in his pockets. Then his face fell. 
 On the previous evening, when they had led him away 
 from the eating-house, he had carelessly given all he 
 had a mark and two pennies to pay for his supper, 
 throwing it to the fat hostess without any reckoning, 
 as he went out. Never mind, he said, after the 
 fruitless search. I will wait outside/ 
 
 But Vjera thrust a silver piece into his hand and 
 was gone before he could protest. And in this way 
 she took upon herself the burden of the Count s debt 
 of honour. 
 
CHAPTEE X 
 
 VJERA turned her head when she had reached the 
 corner of the street, and saw that the Count had dis 
 appeared. He had entered the Cafe*, and had evidently 
 accepted her assurance that she would bring the money 
 without delay. So far, at least, she had been successful. 
 Though by far the most difficult portion of the enter 
 prise lay before her, she was convinced that if she 
 could really produce the fifty marks, the approaching 
 catastrophe of total madness would be averted. Her 
 determination was still so strong that she never doubted 
 the possibility of performing her promise. Without 
 hesitation, she returned to the shop, in search of 
 Johann Schmidt, to whose energies and kindness she 
 instinctively turned for counsel and help. As she 
 came to the door she saw that he was just bidding 
 good-night to his employer. She waited a moment and 
 met him on the pavement as he came out. 
 
 I must have fifty marks in an hour, Herr Schmidt/ 
 she said, boldly. If I do not get it, something dreadful 
 will happen. 
 
CHAP, x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 197 
 
 1 Fifty marks ! exclaimed the Cossack in a tone of 
 amazement. If she had said fifty millions, the shock 
 to his financial sense could not have been more severe. 
 It is an enormous sum, he said, slowly, while she fixed 
 her eyes upon him, waiting for his answer. What 
 is the matter, Vjera ? Have you not been able to pay 
 your rent this year, and has old Homolka threatened 
 to turn you out ? 
 
 Oh no ! It is worse than that, far worse than that ! 
 If it were only myself she hesitated. 
 
 What is it? Who is it? Perhaps it is not so 
 serious as you think. Tell me all about it. 
 
 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 him 
 self 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 
 
198 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 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 con 
 cluded 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/ 
 
 But I could not borrow of him besides, if he 
 knew it was for the Count and he is so rough he 
 would not give it to us. 
 
 We shall see/ answered the other, who knew his 
 man. Wait a moment. He is still inside. 
 
 He re-entered the shop, where Fischelowitz and his 
 wife were conversing under the gaslight. 
 
 I tell you/ Akulina was saying, that it is high 
 time you got rid of him. The new workman from 
 Vilna will take his place, and it is positively ridiculous 
 to be made to submit to this madman s humours, and 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 199 
 
 impertinence. What sort of a man are you, Christian 
 Gregorovitch, to let the fellow carry off your Gigerl, 
 with his airy promise to pay you the money to-day ? 
 
 The Gigerl was broken/ observed the tobacconist. 
 
 Oh, it could have been mended ; and if it was 
 really stolen, was that our business, I would like to 
 know ? Nobody would ever have supposed, seeing it in 
 our window, that it had been stolen. And it could 
 have been mended, as I say, and might have been 
 worth something after all. You never really tried to 
 sell it, as you ought to have done from the very first. 
 And now you have got nothing at all, nothing but that 
 insolent maniac s promise. If I were you I would take 
 the money out of his wages, I would indeed ! 
 
 No doubt you would, said Fischelowitz, with 
 sincere conviction. 
 
 Meanwhile Schmidt had gone into the back shop, 
 where Dumnoff was still doggedly working, making up 
 for the time he had lost by coming late in the morning. 
 He was alone at his little table. 
 
 How much money have you got ? asked the 
 Cossack, briefly. Dumnoff looked up rather stupidly, 
 dropped the cigarette he was making, and felt in his 
 pocket for his change. He produced five marks, an 
 unusual sum for him to have in his possession, and 
 which would not have found itself in his hands had 
 not his arrest on the previous evening prevented his 
 
200 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 spending considerably more than he had spent in his 
 favourite corn-brandy. 
 
 I want it all/ said Schmidt. 
 
 You are a cool-blooded fellow/ laughed Dumnoff, 
 making as though he would return the coins to his 
 pocket. 
 
 Look here, Dumnoff/ answered the Cossack, his 
 bright eyes gleaming. I want that money. You 
 know me, and you had better give it to me without 
 making any trouble/ 
 
 Dumnoff seemed confused by the sharpness of the 
 demand, and hesitated. 
 
 You seem in a great hurry/ he said, with an awk 
 ward laugh, I suppose you mean to give it back to 
 me? 
 
 You shall have it at the rate of a mark a day in 
 the next five work days. You will get your pay this 
 evening and that will be quite enough for you to get 
 drunk with to-night. 
 
 That is true/ said Dumnoff, thoughtfully. Well, 
 take it , he added, slipping the money into the other s 
 outstretched palm. 
 
 Thank you/ said the Cossack. You are not so 
 bad as you look, Dumnoff. Good-night. He was gone 
 in a moment. 
 
 Dumnoff stared at the door through which he had 
 disappeared. 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 201 
 
 After all/ he muttered, discontentedly, he 
 could not have taken it by force. I wonder why I was 
 such a fool as to give it to him ! 
 
 I tell you/ said Akulina to her husband as Schmidt 
 passed through the outer shop, that he will end by 
 costing us so much in money lent, and squandered 
 in charity, that the business will go to dust and 
 feathers ! I am only a weak woman, Christian 
 Gregorovitch, but I have four children 
 
 The Cossack heard no more, for he closed the street 
 door behind him and returned to Vj era s side. She 
 was standing as he had left her, absorbed in the con 
 templation of the financial crisis. 
 
 Five more/ said he, giving her the silver. That 
 is one half. Now for the other. But are you quite 
 sure, Vjera, that it is as bad as you think ? I know 
 that Fischelowitz does not in the least expect the money/ 
 
 No I daresay not. But I know this, if I had not 
 met him just now and promised to bring him the fifty 
 marks, he would have been raving mad before morning. 
 Schmidt saw by her look that she was convinced 
 of the fact. 
 
 Very well/ he said. I am not going to turn 
 back now. The poor Count has done me many a 
 good turn in his time, and I will do my best, though 
 I do not exactly see what more I can do, at such 
 short notice. 
 
202 A CIGAKETTE-MAKEK S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Have you got anything worth pawning, Hen- 
 Schmidt V asked Vjera, ruthless, as devoted people 
 can be when the object of their devotion is in danger. 
 
 Well I have not much that I can spare. There 
 is the bed but my wife cannot sleep on the floor, 
 though I would myself. And there are a few pots 
 and pans in the kitchen not worth much, and I do 
 not know what we should do without them. I do 
 not know, I am sure. I cannot take the children s 
 things, Vjera, even for you. 
 
 No, said Vjera doubtfully. I suppose not. Of 
 course not ! she exclaimed, immediately afterwards, 
 with an attempt to express conviction. 
 
 There is one thing there is the old samovar, 
 continued the Cossack. It has a leak in one side, 
 and we make the tea as we can, when we have any. 
 But I remember that I once pawned it, years ago, for 
 five marks. 
 
 That would make thirty, said Vjera promptly. 
 
 * I do not believe they would lend so much on it 
 now, though it is good metal. It is a little battered, 
 besides being leaky. 
 
 Let us get it, said Vjera, beginning to walk 
 briskly on. I have something, too, though I do not 
 know what it is worth. It is an old skin of a wolf 
 my father killed it inside the village, just before we 
 came away. 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 203 
 
 A wolf skin ! exclaimed Schmidt. That may 
 be worth something, if it is good. 
 
 I am afraid it is not very good, answered Vjera 
 doubtfully. The hair comes out. I think it must 
 have been a mangy wolf. And there is a bad hole on 
 one side. 
 
 It was probably badly cured/ said the Cossack, 
 who understood furs. But I can mend the hole in 
 five minutes, so that nobody will see it. 
 
 We will get it, too. But I am afraid that it will 
 not be nearly enough to make up the twenty -five 
 marks. They could not possibly give us twenty marks 
 for the skin, could they ? 
 
 No, indeed, unless you could sell it to some one 
 who does not understand those things. And the 
 samovar will not bring five, as I said. We must find 
 something else. 
 
 Let us get the samovar first, said Vjera decisively. 
 I will wait downstairs till you get it, and then you 
 will wait for me where I live, and after that we will 
 go together. I may find something else. Indeed, I 
 must, or we shall not have enough. 
 
 They walked rapidly through the deepening shadows 
 towards Schmidt s home. Vjera moved, as people do, 
 who are possessed by an idea which must be put into 
 immediate execution, her head high, her eyes full of 
 light, her lips set, her step firm. Her companion was 
 
204 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 surprised to find that he needed to walk fast in order 
 to keep by her side. He looked at her often, as he 
 had looked all day, with an expression that showed at 
 once much interest, considerable admiration and some 
 pity. If he had not been lately brought to some new 
 opinion concerning the girl he would certainly not 
 have entered into her wild scheme for calming the 
 Count s excitement without at least arguing the case 
 lengthily, and discussing all the difficulties which 
 presented themselves to his imagination. As it was, 
 he felt himself carried away by a sort of enthusiasm 
 in her cause, which would have led him to make even 
 greater sacrifices than he had it in his power to offer. 
 So strong was this feeling that he felt called upon to 
 make a sort of apology. 
 
 I am sorry I cannot do more to help you, he said 
 regretfully. It is very little I know, but then, you 
 see I am not alone in the world, Vjera. There are 
 others to be thought of. And besides, I have just 
 paid the rent, and there are no savings left. 
 
 Dear Herr Schmidt, answered Vjera gratefully, 
 you are doing too much already but I cannot help 
 taking all you give me, though I can thank you for it 
 with all my heart. 
 
 They did not speak again during the next few 
 minutes, until they reached the door of the house in 
 which the Cossack lived. 
 
x A CIGARETTE- MAKER S ROMANCE 205 
 
 I shall only need a moment/ he said, as he dived 
 into the dark entrance. 
 
 He lost so little time, that it seemed to Vjera as 
 though the echo of his steps had not died away upon 
 the stairs before she heard his footfall again as he 
 descended. This time, however, there was a rattle 
 and clatter of metal to be heard as well as his quick 
 tread and the loud creaking of his coarse, stiff shoes. 
 He emerged into the street with the body of the 
 samovar under one arm. The movable brass chimney 
 of the machine was sticking out of one of his pockets, 
 and in his left hand he had its little tray, with the 
 rings and other pieces belonging to the whole. 
 Amongst those latter objects, which he grasped tightly 
 in his fingers, there figured also the fragment of a 
 small spoon of which the bowl had been broken from 
 the handle. 
 
 It is silver, he said, referring to the latter utensil, 
 as he held up the whole handful before Vjera s eyes. 
 But if we can find a jeweller s shop open, we will sell 
 it. We can get more for it in that way. And now 
 your wolf s skin, Vjera. And be sure to bring me a 
 needle and some strong thread when you come down. 
 I can mend the hole by the gaslight in the street, for 
 Homolka would not understand it if he saw me going 
 to your room, you know. 
 
 She helped him to put all the smaller things into 
 
206 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 his pockets, so that he had only the samovar itself 
 and its metal tray to carry in his hands, and then they 
 went briskly on towards Vj era s lodging. 
 
 Do you think we shall get three marks for the 
 little spoon ? she asked, constantly preoccupied by 
 her calculations. 
 
 Oh yes, Schmidt answered cheerfully. We may 
 get five. It is good silver, and they buy silver by weight. 
 
 A few moments later she stood still before a narrow 
 shop which was lighted within, though there was no 
 lamp in the windows. It was that of a small watch 
 maker and jeweller, and a few silver watches and 
 some cheap chains and trinkets were visible behind the 
 glass pane. 
 
 Perhaps he may buy the spoon, suggested Vjera, 
 anxious to lose no time. 
 
 Without a word Schmidt entered the shop, while 
 the girl stood outside. In less than five minutes he 
 came out again with something in his hand. 
 
 Three and a half/ he said, handing her the money. 
 
 I had hoped it would be worth more, she answered, 
 putting the coins with the rest. 
 
 No. He weighed it with silver marks. It 
 weighed just four of them, and he said he must have 
 half a mark to make it worth his while. 
 
 Very well, said Vjera, it is always something. 
 I have twenty-eight and a half now. 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 207 
 
 When they reached her lodging Schmidt set down 
 the samovar upon the pavement and made himself a 
 cigarette, while he waited for her. She was gone a 
 long time, as it seemed to him, and he was beginning 
 to wonder whether anything had happened, when she 
 suddenly made her appearance, noiseless in her walk, 
 as always. The old wolf s skin was hung over one 
 shoulder, and she carried besides a limp-looking brown 
 paper parcel, tied with a bit of folded ribband. As he 
 caught sight of her face in the light of the street 
 lamp, Schmidt fancied that she was paler than before, 
 and that her cheek was wet. 
 
 I am sorry I was so long, she said. The little 
 sister cried because I would not stay, and I had to 
 quiet her. Here is the skin. Do you see ? I am 
 afraid this is a very big hole and the hair comes out 
 in handfuls. Look at it. 
 
 It was a very old wolf/ remarked the Cossack, 
 holding the skin up under the gaslight. 
 
 Does that make it worth less ? asked Vjera 
 anxiously. 
 
 Not of itself ; on the contrary. And I can mend 
 the hole, if you have the thread and needle. The 
 worst thing about it all is the way the hairs fall out. 
 I am afraid the moths have been at it, Vjera. He 
 shook his head gravely. I am afraid the moths have 
 done a great deal of damage. 
 
208 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Oh, if I had only known I would have been so 
 careful ! And to think that it might have been worth 
 something. 
 
 It is worth something as it is, but at the pawn 
 broker s they will not lend much on it. He took the 
 threaded needle, which she had not forgotten, and 
 sitting down upon the edge of the pavement spread 
 the skin upon his knees with the fur downwards. 
 Then he quickly began to draw the hole together, 
 sewing it firmly with the furrier s cross stitch, and so 
 neatly that the seam looked like a single straight line 
 on the side of the leather, while it was quite invisible 
 in the fur on the other. 
 
 What is the other thing you have brought ? he 
 inquired without looking up from his work. The 
 light was bad, and he had to bend his eyes close to the 
 sewing. 
 
 It is something I may be able to sell, said Vjera 
 in a rather unsteady voice. 
 
 Silver ? asked Schmidt, cheerfully. 
 
 Oh no not silver something dearer, she said, 
 almost under her breath. I am afraid it is very hard 
 for you to see, she added quickly, attempting to avoid 
 his questions. Do you not think that I could hold 
 a match for you, to make a little more light? You 
 always have some with you. 
 
 Wait a moment yes I have almost finished the 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 209 
 
 seam here is the box. Now, if you can hold the 
 match just there, just over the needle, and keep it 
 from going out, I can finish the end off neatly. 
 
 Vjera knelt down beside him and held the flicker 
 ing bit of wood as well as she was able. They made 
 a strange picture, out in the unfrequented street, the 
 dim glare of the gaslight above them, and the redder 
 flame of the match making odd tints and shadows in 
 their faces. Vj era s shawl had slipped back from her 
 head and her thick tress of red-brown hair had found 
 its way over her shoulder. An artist, strolling supper- 
 wards from his studio, came down their side of the 
 way. He stopped and looked at them. 
 
 Has anything happened ? he asked kindly. Can 
 I be of any use ? 
 
 Vjera looked up with a frightened glance. The 
 Cossack paid no attention to the stranger. 
 
 Oh no, thank you thank you, sir, it is nothing 
 only a little piece of work to finish. 
 
 The artist gave one more look and passed on, wish 
 ing that he could have had pencil and paper and light 
 at his command for five minutes. 
 
 There, said Schmidt triumphantly. It is done, 
 and very well done. And now for the pawn-shop, 
 Vjera ! 
 
 Vjera took the skin over her arm and her com 
 panion picked up the samovar with its tray, and they 
 
210 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 moved on again. Vj era s face was pale and sad, but 
 she seemed more confident of success than ever, and 
 her step was elastic and hopeful. Johann Schmidt s 
 curiosity was very great, as has been seen on previous 
 occasions. He did his best to control it, for some 
 time, only trying to guess from the general appearance 
 of the limp parcel what it might contain. But his 
 ingenuity failed to solve the problem. At last he 
 could bear it no longer. They were entering the street 
 where the pawnbroker s shop was situated when his 
 resolution broke down. 
 
 Is it a piece of lace ? he asked at a venture. 
 If it is, you know, and if it is good, it may be worth 
 all the other things together. 
 
 No. It is not a piece of lace/ answered the girl. 
 
 I will tell you what it is, if we do not get enough 
 
 without it. 
 
 I only thought, explained the Cossack, that 
 
 if we were going to try and pawn it, I had better 
 
 know 
 
 We cannot pawn it, said Vjera decisively. It 
 
 will have to be sold. Let us go in together. She 
 
 spoke the last words as they reached the door of the 
 
 pawn-shop. 
 
 I could save you the trouble, Schmidt suggested, 
 
 offering to take the wolfs skin. But Vjera would not 
 
 give it up. She felt that she must see everything 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 211 
 
 done herself, if only to distract her thoughts from more 
 painful matters. 
 
 The place was half full of people, most of them 
 with anxious faces, and all having some object or 
 other in their hands. The pawn-shops do their best 
 business in the evening. A man and a woman, both 
 advanced in middle age, well fed, parsimoniously 
 washed and possessing profiles of an outline disquieting 
 to Christian prejudices, leaned over the counter, 
 handled the articles offered them, consulted each other 
 in incomprehensible monosyllables, talked volubly to 
 the customers in oily undertones and from time to 
 time counted out small doses of change which they 
 gave to the eager recipients, accompanied by little 
 slips of paper on which there were both printed and 
 written words. The room was warm and redolent 
 of poverty. A broad flame of gas burned, without a 
 shade, over the middle of the counter. 
 
 In spite of their unctuous tones the Hebrew and 
 his wife did their business rapidly, with sharpness and 
 decision. Either one of them would have undertaken 
 to name the precise pawning value of anything on 
 earth and, possibly, of most things in heaven, provided 
 that the universe were brought piecemeal to their 
 counter. Both Vjera and Schmidt had been made 
 acquainted by previous necessities with the establish 
 ment. Vjera held her paper parcel in her hand. The 
 
212 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 other things were laid together upon the counter. The 
 Hebrew woman glanced at the samovar, felt the weight 
 of it and turned it once round. 
 
 Leaky/ she observed in her smooth voice. Old 
 brass. One mark and a half/ Her husband put out 
 his hand, touched the machine, lifted it, and nodded. 
 
 Only a mark and a half ! exclaimed Vjera. And 
 the skin, how much for that ? 
 
 It is a genuine Eussian wolf/ Schmidt put in. 
 And it is very large/ 
 
 Moth-eaten/ said the Jewess. And there is a 
 hole in the side. Five marks. 
 
 Schmidt held the fur up to the light and blew into 
 it with a professional air, as furriers do. 
 
 Look at that ! he cried, persuasively. Why, it 
 is worth twenty ! 
 
 The Hebrew lady, instead of answering extended a 
 fat thumb and a plump, pointed forefinger, and pinch 
 ing a score of hairs between the two, pulled them out 
 without effort, and then held them close to the 
 Cossack s eyes. 
 
 Five marks/ she repeated, getting the money out 
 and preparing to fill in a couple of pawn-tickets. 
 
 Make it ten, with the samovar ! entreated Vjera. 
 The Jewess smiled. 
 
 Do you think the samovar is of gold? she inquired 
 Six and a half for the two. Take it or leave it. 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 213 
 
 Vjera looked at Schmidt anxiously as though to 
 ask his opinion. 
 
 They will not give more/ he said, in Eussian. 
 
 The girl took the money and the flimsy tickets and 
 they went out into the street. Vjera hesitated as to 
 the direction she should take, and Schmidt looked to 
 her as though awaiting her orders. 
 
 Twenty-eight and a half and six and a half are 
 thirty-five/ she said, thoughtfully. And we have 
 nothing more to give, but this. I must sell it, Herr 
 Schmidt. 
 
 Well, what is it? he asked, glad to know the 
 secret at last. 
 
 It is my mother s hair. She cut it off herself 
 when she knew she was dying and she told me to sell 
 it if ever I needed a little money. 
 
 The girl s voice trembled violently, and she turned 
 her head away. Schmidt was silent and very grave. 
 Then Vjera began to move on again, clutching the 
 precious thing to her bosom and drawing her shawl 
 over it. 
 
 The best man for this lives in the Maffei Strasse, 
 said Schmidt after a few minutes. 
 
 Show me the way. Vjera turned as he directed. 
 At that moment she would have lost herself in the 
 familiar streets, had he not been there to guide her. 
 
 The hairdresser s shop was brilliantly lighted, and 
 
214 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 as good fortune would have it, there were no customers 
 within. With an entreating glance which he obeyed, 
 Vjera made Schmidt wait outside. 
 
 Please do not look ! she whispered. I can bear 
 it better alone. The good fellow nodded and began 
 to walk up and down. 
 
 As Vjera entered the shop, the chief barber in 
 command waltzed forward, as hairdressers always seem 
 to waltz. At the sight of the poor girl, however, he 
 assumed a stern appearance which, to tell the truth, 
 was out of character with his style of beauty. His 
 rich brown locks were curled and anointed in a way 
 that might have aroused envy in the heart of an 
 Assyrian dandy in the palmy days of Sardanapalus. 
 
 Do you buy hair ? asked Vjera, timidly offering 
 her limp parcel. 
 
 1 Oh, certainly, sometimes, answered the barber, 
 The youth in attendance the barber tadpole of the 
 hairdresser frog abandoned the cleansing of a comb 
 and came forward with a leer, in the hope that Vjera 
 might turn out to be pretty on a closer inspection. 
 In this he was disappointed. 
 
 The man took the parcel and laid it on one of the 
 narrow marble tables placed before a mirror in a richly 
 gilt frame. He pushed aside the blue glass powder- 
 box, the vial of brilliantine and the brushes. Vjera 
 untied the bit of faded ribband herself and opened 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 215 
 
 the package. The contents exhaled a faint, sickly 
 odour. 
 
 A tress of beautiful hair, of unusual length and 
 thickness, lay in the paper. The colour was that 
 which is now so much sought after, and which great 
 ladies endeavour to produce upon their own hair, when 
 they have any, by washing it with extra-dry champagne, 
 while little ladies imitate them with a humble solution 
 of soda. The colour in question is a reddish-brown 
 with rich golden lights in it, and it is very rare in 
 nature. 
 
 The barber eyed the thick plait with a business 
 like expression. 
 
 The colour is not so bad, he remarked, as though 
 suggesting that it might have been very much better. 
 
 Surely, it is very beautiful hair ! said Vjera, her 
 heart almost breaking at the sight of the tenderly 
 treasured heirloom. 
 
 Suddenly the man snuffed the odour, lifted the 
 tress to his nose, and smelt it. Then he laid it down 
 again and took the thicker end, which was tied tightly 
 with a ribband, in his hands, pulling at the short 
 lengths of hair which projected beyond the knot. 
 They broke very easily, with an odd, soft snap. 
 
 It is worth nothing at all, said the barber 
 decisively. It is a pity, for it is a very pretty 
 colour. 
 
216 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Vjera started, and steadied herself against the back 
 of the professional chair which stood by the table. 
 
 Nothing ? she repeated, half stupid with the pain 
 of her disappointment. Nothing ? not even fifteen 
 marks ? 
 
 Nothing. It is rotten, and could not be worked. 
 The hairs break like glass/ 
 
 Vjera pressed her left hand to her side as though 
 something hurt her. The tadpole youth grinned idiot 
 ically and the barber seemed anxious to end the 
 interview. 
 
 With a look of broken-hearted despair the girl 
 turned to the table and began to do up her parcel 
 again. Her shawl fell to the ground as she moved. 
 Then the tadpole nudged his employer and pointed at 
 Vjera s long, red -brown braid, and grinned again from 
 ear to ear. 
 
 Is it fifteen marks that you want ? asked the man. 
 
 Fifteen yes I must have fifteen, repeated Vjera 
 in dull tones. 
 
 I will give it to you for your own hair, said the 
 barber with a short laugh. 
 
 For my own ? cried Vjera, suddenly turning round. 
 It had never occurred to her that her own tress could 
 be worth anything. For my own? she repeated as 
 though not believing her ears. 
 
 Yes let me see/ said the man. Turn your head 
 
x A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 217 
 
 again, please. Let me see. Yes, yes, it is good hair 
 of the kind, though it has not the gold lights in it that 
 the other had. But, to oblige you, I will give you 
 fifteen for it. 
 
 But I must have the money now/ said Vjera, 
 suspiciously. * You must give me the money now, to 
 take with me. I cannot wait. 
 
 The barber smiled, and produced a gold piece and 
 five silver ones. 
 
 You may hold the money in your hand, he said, 
 offering it to her, while you sit down and I do the 
 work. 
 
 Vjera clutched the coins fiercely and placed her 
 self in the big chair before the mirror. She could see 
 in the glass that her eyes were on fire. The barber 
 loosened a screw in the back of the seat and removed 
 the block with the cushion, handing it to his assistant. 
 
 The scissors, and a comb, Anton, he said briskly, 
 lifting at the same time the heavy tress and judging 
 its weight. The reflection of the steel flashed in the 
 mirror, as the artist quickly opened and shut the 
 scissors, with that peculiar shuffling jingle which only 
 barbers can produce. 
 
 Wait a minute ! cried Vjera, with sudden anxiety, 
 and turning her head as though to draw away her 
 hair from his grasp. One minute please fifteen 
 and thirty-five are really fifty, are they not ? 
 
218 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 The tadpole began to count on his fingers, whisper 
 ing audibly. 
 
 Yes/ answered the barber. Fifteen and thirty- 
 five are fifty. 
 
 The tadpole desisted, having already got into 
 mathematical difficulties in counting from one hand 
 over to the other. 
 
 Then cut it off quickly, please ! said poor Yjera, 
 settling herself in the chair again, and giving her head 
 to the shears. 
 
 In the silence that followed, only the soft jingle of 
 the scissors was heard. 
 
 There ! exclaimed the hairdresser, holding up a 
 hand-mirror behind her. I have been generous, you 
 see. I have not cut it very short. See for yourself. 
 
 Thank you, said Vjera. You are very kind. 
 She saw nothing, indeed, but she was satisfied, and 
 rose quickly. 
 
 She tied up the limp parcel with the same old 
 piece of faded ribband, and a little colour suddenly 
 came into her face as she pressed it to her bosom. 
 All at once, she lost control of herself, and with a 
 sharp sob the tears gushed out. She stooped a little 
 and drew her shawl over her head to hide her face. 
 The tears wet her hands and the brown paper, and 
 fell down to the greasy marble floor of the shop. 
 
 It will grow again very soon, said the barber, not 
 
x A CIGAKETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 219 
 
 unkindly. He supposed, naturally enough, that she 
 was weeping over her sacrifice. 
 
 Oh no ! It is not that ! she cried. I am so so 
 happy to have kept this ! Then, without another 
 word, she slipped noiselessly out into the street, 
 clasping the precious relic to her breast, 
 
CHAPTEE XI 
 
 1 1 HAVE got it I have got it all P cried Vjera, as 
 she came up with Schmidt on the pavement. His 
 quick eye caught sight of the parcel, only half hidden 
 by her shawl. 
 
 But you have brought the hair away with you/ 
 he said, in some anxiety, and fearing a mistake or 
 some new trouble. 
 
 Yes/ she answered. That is the best of it. 
 Her tears had disappeared as suddenly as they had 
 come, and she could now hardly restrain the nervous 
 laughter that rose to her lips. 
 
 But how is that ? asked Schmidt, stopping. 
 
 I gave them my own/ she laughed, hysterically. 
 I gave them my own instead. Quick, quick 
 there is no time to lose. Is it an hour yet, since I 
 left him ? She ran along, and Schmidt found it hard 
 to keep beside her without running, too. At last he 
 broke into a sort of jog-trot. In five minutes they 
 were at the door of the cafe". 
 
 The Count was sitting at a small table near the 
 
CHAP, xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 221 
 
 door, an empty coffee-cup before him, staring with a 
 fixed look at the opposite wall. There were few 
 people in the place, as the performances at the theatres 
 had already begun. Vjera entered alone. 
 
 I have brought you the money/ she said, joyfully, 
 as she stood beside him and laid a hand upon his arm 
 to attract his attention, for he had not noticed her 
 coming. 
 
 The money ? he said, excitedly. The fifty 
 marks ? You have got it ? 
 
 She sat down at the table, and began to count the 
 gold and silver, producing it from her pocket in 
 instalments of four or five coins, and making little 
 heaps of them before him. 
 
 It is all there every penny of it, she said, 
 counting the piles again. 
 
 The poor man s eyes seemed starting from his head, 
 as he leaned eagerly forward over the money. 
 
 Is it real ? Is it true ? he asked in a low voice. 
 1 Oh, Vjera, do not laugh at me is it really true, 
 child ? 
 
 Keally true fifty marks. Her pale face beamed 
 with pleasure. And now you can go and pay 
 Fischelowitz at once, she added. 
 
 But he leaned back a moment in his chair, looking 
 at her intently. Then his eyes grew moist, and, 
 when he spoke, his voice quivered. 
 
222 A CIGAKETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP 
 
 May God forgive me for taking it of you/ he said. 
 You have saved me, Vjera saved my honour, my 
 life all. God bless you, dear, God bless you ! I am 
 very, very thankful. 
 
 He put the coins carefully together and wrapped 
 them in his silk handkerchief, and rose from his seat. 
 He had already paid for his cup of coffee. They 
 went out together. The Cossack had disappeared. 
 
 You have saved my life and my honour my 
 honour and my life/ repeated the Count, softly and 
 dwelling on the words in a dreamy way. 
 
 I will wait outside/ said Vjera as they reached 
 the tobacconist s shop, a few seconds later. 
 
 The Count turned to her and laid both hands upon 
 her shoulders, looking into her face. 
 
 You cannot understand what you have done for 
 me/ he said earnestly. 
 
 He stooped, for he was much taller than she, and 
 closing his tired eyes for a moment, he pressed his 
 lips upon her waxen forehead. Before he had seen 
 the bright blush that glowed in her cheeks, he had 
 entered the shop. 
 
 Akulina was seated in one corner, apparently in 
 a bad humour, for her dark face was flushed, and her 
 small eyes looked up savagely at the Count. Her 
 husband was leaning over the counter, smoking and 
 making a series of impressions in violet ink upon the 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 223 
 
 back of an old letter, with an india-rubber stamp in 
 which the words Celebrated Manufactory held a 
 prominent place. He nodded familiarly. 
 
 Herr Fischelowitz/ said the Count, regaining 
 suddenly his dignity of manner and bearing, in the 
 course of the conversation last evening, I said that I 
 would to-day refund the fifty marks which you once 
 lent to that atrocious young man who wore green 
 glasses. I daresay you remember the circumstance ? 
 
 I had quite forgotten it/ said Fischelowitz. 
 Please do not allow it to trouble you, my dear Count. 
 I never considered you responsible for it, and of course 
 you cannot 
 
 It is a shame ! Akulina broke in, angrily. You 
 ought to make him pay it out of what he earns, since 
 he took the Gigerl ! 
 
 Madam/ said the Count, addressing her with 
 great civility, if it is agreeable to you, we will not 
 discuss the matter. I only reminded Herr Fischelowitz 
 of what took place because 
 
 Because you have no money of course ! in 
 terrupted Akulina. 
 
 On the contrary, because I have brought the money, 
 and shall be obliged to you if you will count it. 
 
 Akulina s jaw dropped, and Fischelowitz looked up 
 in amazement. The Count produced his knotted 
 handkerchief and laid it on the table. 
 
224 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I only wish you to understand/ he said, speaking 
 to Akulina, that when a gentleman gives his word he 
 keeps it. Will you do me the favour to count the 
 money ? 
 
 Of course, it is no business of ours to find out 
 how he got it, observed Akulina, rising and coming 
 forward. 
 
 1 None whatever, madam, answered the Count, 
 spreading out the coins which had been collected by 
 loving hands from so many sources. The only 
 question is, to ascertain whether there are fifty marks 
 here or not. 
 
 Fischelowitz stood looking on. He had not yet 
 recovered from his surprise, and was half afraid that 
 there might be something wrong. But the practical 
 Akulina lost no time in assuring herself that the sum 
 was complete. As she realised this fact, her features 
 relaxed into a pleasant smile. 
 
 Well, Count, she said, we are very much obliged 
 to you for this. It is very honest of you, for of 
 course, you were not exactly called upon 
 
 I understood you to say that I was/ replied the 
 Count, gravely. 
 
 Oh, that was yesterday, and I am very sorry if I 
 annoyed you. But let bygones be bygones ! I hope 
 there is no ill-will between us ? 
 
 Oh, none at all/ returned the other indifferently. 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 225 
 
 I have the honour to wish you a very good even 
 ing. Without waiting for more, the Count bowed and 
 left the shop. 
 
 Akulina, said Fischelowitz, thoughtfully, as the 
 door closed, that man is a gentleman, say what you 
 please/ 
 
 A pretty gentleman/ laughed Akulina, putting the 
 money into the till. A gentleman indeed why, look 
 at his coat ! 
 
 And you are a fool, Akulina/ added Fischelowitz, 
 handling his india-rubber stamp. 
 
 Thank you ; but for my foolery you would be 
 fifty marks poorer to-night, Christian Gregorovitch. A 
 gentleman, pah ! 
 
 The Count had drawn Vjera s willing arm through 
 his, and they were walking slowly away together. 
 
 I must be going home, she said, reluctantly. The 
 little sister will be crying for me. I cannot leave her 
 any longer/ 
 
 Not till I have thanked you, dear/ he answered, 
 pressing her arm to his side. But I will go with you 
 to your door, and thank you all the way though the 
 way is far too short for all I have to say/ 
 
 I have done nothing it has really cost me 
 nothing/ Yjera squeezed her limp parcel under her 
 shawl, and felt that she was speaking the truth. 
 
 I cannot believe that, Vjera, said the Count 
 Q 
 
226 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 You could not have found so much money so quickly, 
 without making some great sacrifice. But I will give 
 it back to you 
 
 Oh no no/ she cried, earnestly. Make no pro 
 mises to me. Think what this promise has cost you. 
 When you have the money, you may give it back if 
 you choose but it would make me so unhappy if you 
 promised. 
 
 Would it, child ? And yet, my friends are waiting 
 for me, and they have money for me, too. Then, I 
 will only say that I will give it back to you as soon 
 as possible. Is that right ? . 
 
 < Yes and nothing more than that. And as for 
 thanking me what have I done that needs thanks ? 
 Would you not have done as much for me if if, for 
 instance, I had been ill, and could not pay the rent of 
 the room ? And then think of the happiness I have 
 had! 
 
 The words were spoken so simply and it was so 
 clear that they were true, that the Count found it hard 
 to answer. Not because he had nothing to express, 
 but because the words for the expression could not be 
 found. Again he pressed her arm 
 
 Vjera/ he said, when they had walked some dis 
 tance farther, it is of no use to speak of this. There 
 is that between you and me which makes speech con 
 temptible and words ridiculous. There is only one thing 
 
XI A CIGARETTE- MAKER S ROMANCE 227 
 
 that I can do, Vjera dearest. I can love you, dear, with 
 all my heart. Will you take my love for thanks and 
 my devotion for gratitude ? Will you, dear ? Will 
 you remember what you promised and what I promised 
 last night ? As soon as all is right, to-morrow, will 
 you be my wife ? 
 
 If it could ever be ! sighed the poor girl, recalled 
 suddenly to the remembrance of his pitiful infirmity. 
 
 It can be, it shall be and it will be/ he answered in 
 tones of conviction. They are waiting for me now, 
 Vjera, in my little room but they may wait, for I 
 will not lose a moment of your dear company for them 
 all. They are waiting for me with the money and the 
 papers and the orders. I have waited long for them, 
 they can afford to have a little patience now. And 
 to-morrow, at this time, we shall be together, Vjera, 
 in the train I will have a special carriage for you 
 and me, and then, a night and a day and another night 
 and we shall be at home for ever. How happy we 
 shall be ! Will you not be happy with me, darling ? 
 Why do you sigh ? 
 
 Did I sigh ? asked Vjera, trying to laugh a little. 
 
 He hardly noticed the question, but began to talk 
 again, as he had talked on the previous evening, de 
 scribing all that he meant to do, and all that they 
 would do together. Vjera heard and tried not to 
 listen. Her joy was all gone. The great, overwhelm- 
 
228 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 ing pleasure she had felt in dispelling his anxiety and 
 in averting what had seemed a near and terrible 
 catastrophe, gave place to the old, heart-rending pity 
 for him, as he rambled on in his delusion. She had 
 hoped that, as it was late on Wednesday evening, the 
 time of it was passed and that, for another week, he 
 would talk no more of his friends and his money and 
 his return to fortune. But the fixed idea was there 
 still, as dominant as ever. Her light tread grew weary 
 and her head sank forward as she walked. For one 
 short hour she had felt the glory of sacrificing all 
 she had to give, to her love. Are there many who 
 have felt as much, with as good reason, in a whole 
 lifetime ? But the hour was gone, taking with it the 
 reality and leaving in its place a memory, fair, brilliant, 
 and dear as the tress of golden hair Vjera was carrying 
 home in her parcel, but as useless perhaps and as value 
 less in the world of realities as that had proved to be. 
 
 They reached her door and stopped in their walk. 
 She looked up sadly into his eyes, as she held out her 
 hand. He hesitated a moment, and then threw both 
 his arms round her and drew her to his heart and 
 kissed her passionately again and again. She tried to 
 draw back. 
 
 Oh no, no ! she cried. It cannot be so to 
 morrow why should you kiss me to-day ? But he 
 would not let her go. She loved him, though she 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 229 
 
 knew lie was mad, and she let her head fall upon his 
 shoulder, and allowed herself to believe in love for a 
 moment. 
 
 Suddenly she felt that he was startled by some- 
 thing. 
 
 Vjera ! he cried. Have you cut off your beau 
 tiful hair ? What have you done, child ? How could 
 you do it ? 
 
 It was so heavy, she said, looking up with a. bright 
 smile. * It made my head ache it is best so/ 
 
 But he was not satisfied, for he guessed something 
 of the truth, and the pain and horror that thrilled him 
 told him that he had guessed rightly. 
 
 You have cut it off and you have sold it you 
 
 have sold your hair for me he stammered in a 
 
 broken voice. 
 
 She hung her head a little. 
 
 I always meant to cut it off. I did not care for 
 it, you know. And besides, she added, suddenly look 
 ing up again, you will not love me less, will you ? 
 They said it would grow again you will not love me 
 less? 
 
 Love you less ? Ah, Vjera, that promise I may 
 make at least never to the end of ends ! 
 
 And yet, she answered, if it should all be true 
 if it only should you could not oh, I should not be 
 worthy of you you could never marry me. 
 
230 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 The Count drew back a step and held out his right 
 hand, with a strangely earnest look in his weary eyes. 
 She laid her fingers in his almost unconsciously. Then, 
 as though he were in a holy place, he took off his hat, 
 and stood bareheaded before her. 
 
 If I forsake you, Vjera, he said very solemnly, if 
 I forsake you ever, in riches or in poverty, in honour 
 or in disrepute, may the God of heaven forsake me in 
 the hour of my death. 
 
 He swore the great oath deliberately, in a strong, 
 clear voice, and then was silent for a moment, his eyes 
 turned upwards, his attitude unchanged. Then he 
 raised the poor girl s thin hand to his lips and kissed 
 it, three times, reverently, as devout persons kiss the 
 relics of departed saints. 
 
 Good-night, Vjera, he said, quietly. We shall 
 meet to-morrow. 
 
 Vjera was awed by his solemn earnestness, and 
 strongly moved by his action. 
 
 Good -night, she answered, lovingly. Heaven 
 bless you and keep you safe. She looked for a last 
 time into his face, as though trying to impress upon 
 her mind the memories of that fateful evening, and 
 then she withdrew into the house, shutting the street 
 door behind her. 
 
 The Count stood still for several minutes, uncon 
 sciously holding his hat in his hand. At last he 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 231 
 
 covered his head and walked slowly away in the 
 direction of his home. By degrees his mind fell into 
 its old groove and he hastened his steps. From time to 
 time, he fancied that some one was following him at no 
 great distance, but though he glanced quickly over his 
 shoulder he saw no one in the dimly -lighted street. 
 The door of the house in which he lived was open, and 
 he ran up the stairs at a great pace, sure that by this 
 time his friends must be waiting for him in his room. 
 When he reached it, all was dark and quiet. The 
 echo of his own footsteps seemed still to resound in 
 the staircase as he closed his door and struck a match. 
 He found his small lamp in a corner, lighted it with 
 some difficulty, set it on the table and sat down. 
 There, beside him, propped up against two books, was 
 the piece of paper on which he had written the few 
 words for his friends, in case they came while he was 
 out. He took it up, looked over it absently and began 
 to fold it upon itself again and again. 
 
 Dear Vjera ! he exclaimed, in a low caressing 
 tone, as he smoothed the folded strip between his 
 fingers. 
 
 He was thinking, and thinking connectedly, of all 
 that had just taken place, and wondering how it was 
 that he had been able to accept such a sacrifice from 
 one so little able to sacrifice anything. It seemed as 
 though it should have been impossible for him to let 
 
232 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 the poor little shell-maker take upon herself his burden, 
 and free him of it and set him right again in his own 
 eyes. 
 
 I know that I love her now/ he said to himself. 
 
 And he was right. There are secret humiliations 
 to which no man would submit, as such, but from 
 which love, when it is real, can take away the sting 
 and the poison. The man of heart, who does not love 
 but is loved in spite of himself, fears to accept a sacri 
 fice, lest in so doing he should seem to declare his 
 readiness to do as he is done by, from like motives. 
 But when love is on both sides there is no such draw 
 ing back from love s responsibilities. The sacrifice is 
 accepted not only with gratitude, but with joy, as a 
 debt of which the repayment by sacrifice again con 
 stitutes in itself a happiness. And thus, perhaps, it is 
 that they love best who love in sorrow and in want, 
 in worldly poverty and in distress of soul, for they 
 alone can know what joy it is to receive, and what yet 
 infinitely greater joy lies in giving all when all is sorely 
 needed. 
 
 But as the Count dwelt on the circumstances he 
 saw also what it was that Vjera had done, and he 
 wondered how she could have found the strength to do 
 it. He did not, indeed, say to himself that for his sake 
 she had parted with her only beauty, for he had never 
 considered whether she were good-looking or not. The 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 233 
 
 bond between them was of a different nature, and 
 would not have been less strong had Vjera been 
 absolutely ugly instead of being merely, what is called, 
 plain. He would have loved her as well, had she been 
 a cripple, or deformed, just as she loved him in spite of 
 his madness. But he knew well enough how women, 
 even the most wretched, value their hair when it is 
 beautiful, what care they bestow upon it and what 
 consolation they derive from the rich, silken coil denied 
 to fairer women than themselves. There is something 
 in the thought of cutting off the heavy tress and selling 
 it which appeals to the pity of most people, and which, 
 to women themselves, is full of horror. A man might 
 have felt the same in those days when long locks were 
 the distinctive outward sign of nobility in man, and 
 perhaps the respect of that obsolete custom has left in 
 the minds of most people a sort of unconscious tradi 
 tion. However that may be, we all feel that in one 
 direction, at least, a woman s sacrifice can go no further 
 than in giving her head to the shears. 
 
 The longer the Count thought of this, the more his 
 gratitude increased, and the more fully he realised at 
 what great cost poor Vjera had saved him from what 
 he considered the greatest conceivable dishonour, from 
 the shame of breaking his word, no matter under what 
 conditions it had been given. He could, of course, 
 repay her the money, so soon as his friends arrived, 
 
234 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 but by no miracle whatever could he restore to her 
 head the only beauty it had ever possessed. He had 
 scarcely understood this at first, for he had been con 
 fused and shaken by the many emotions which had in 
 succession played upon his nervous mind and body 
 during the past twenty-four hours. But now he saw 
 it all very clearly. He had taken only money, which 
 he would be able to restore ; she had given a part of 
 herself, irrevocably. 
 
 So deeply absorbed was he in his thoughts that the 
 clocks struck many successive quarters without rousing 
 him from his reverie, or suggesting again to him the 
 fixed idea by which his life was governed on that day 
 of the week. But as midnight drew near, the prolonged 
 striking of the bells at every quarter at last attracted 
 his attention. He started suddenly and rose from his 
 seat, trying to count the strokes, but he had not heard 
 the first ones and was astray in his reckoning. It was 
 very late, that was certain, and not many minutes 
 could elapse before the door would open and his 
 friends would enter. He hastily smoothed his hair, 
 looked to the flame of his bright little lamp and made 
 a trip of inspection round the room. Everything was 
 in order. He was almost glad that they were to come 
 at night, for the lamplight seemed to lend a more 
 cheerful look to the room. The Turkey-red cotton 
 counterpane on the bed looked particularly well, 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 235 
 
 the Count thought. During the next fifteen minutes 
 he walked about, rubbing his hands softly together. 
 At the first stroke of the following quarter he stood 
 still and listened intently. 
 
 Four quarters struck, and then the big bell began to 
 toll the hour. It must be eleven, he thought, as he 
 counted the strokes. Eleven twelve he started, 
 and turned very white, but listened still, for he knew 
 that he should hear another clock striking in a few 
 seconds. As the strokes followed each other, his heart 
 beat like a fulling-hammer, giving a succession of quick 
 blows, and pausing to repeat the rhythmic tattoo more 
 loudly and painfully than before. Ten eleven 
 twelve there was no mistake. The day was over. 
 It was midnight, and no one had come. The room 
 swam with him. 
 
 Then, as in a vision of horror, he saw himself standing 
 there, as he had stood many times before, listening for 
 the last stroke, and suddenly awaking from the dream 
 to the crushing disappointment of the reality. For one 
 brief and terrible moment his whole memory was 
 restored to him and he knew that his madness was 
 only madness, and nothing more, and that it seized 
 him in the same way, week by week, through the 
 months and the years, leaving him thus on the stroke 
 of twelve each Wednesday night, a broken, miserable, 
 self-deceived man. As in certain dreams, we dream 
 
236 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 that we have dreamed the same things before, so with 
 him an endless calendar of Wednesdays was unrolled 
 before his inner sight, all alike, all ending in the same 
 terror of conscious madness. 
 
 He had dreamed it all, there was no one to come 
 to him in his distress, no one would ever enter that 
 lonely room to bring back to him the treasures of a 
 glorious past, for there was no one to come. It had 
 all been a dream from beginning to end and there was 
 no reality in it. 
 
 He staggered to his chair and sat down, pressing 
 his lean hands to his aching temples and rocking him 
 self to and fro, his breath hissing through his con 
 vulsively closed teeth. Still the fearful memory 
 remained, and it grew into a prophetic vision of the 
 future, reflecting what had been upon the distant 
 scenery of what was yet to be. With that one deadly 
 stroke of the great church bell, all was gone fortune, 
 friends, wealth, dignity. The majestic front of the 
 palace of his hopes was but a flimsy, painted tissue. 
 The fire that ran through his tortured brain consumed 
 the gaudy, artificial thing in the flash and rush of a 
 single flame, and left behind only the charred skeleton 
 framework, which had supported the vast canvas. 
 And then, he saw it again and again looming suddenly 
 out of the darkness, brightening into beauty and the 
 semblance of strength, to be as suddenly destroyed 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 237 
 
 once more. With each frantic beat of his heart the 
 awful transformation was renewed. For dreams need 
 not time to spin out their intolerable length. With 
 each burning throb of his raging blood, every nerve in 
 his body, every aching recess of his brain, was pierced 
 and twisted, and pierced again with unceasing agony. 
 Then a new horror was added to the rest. He saw 
 before him the poor Polish girl, her only beauty shorn 
 away for his sake, he saw all that he had promised in 
 return, and he knew that he had nothing to give her, 
 nothing, absolutely, save the crazy love of a wretched 
 madman. He could not even repay her the miserable 
 money which had cost her so dear. Out of his dreams 
 of fortune there was not so much as a handful of coin 
 left to give the girl who had given all she had, who 
 had sold her hair to save his honour. With frightful 
 vividness the truth came over him. That honour of 
 his, he had pledged it in the recklessness of his mad 
 ness. She had saved it out of love, and he had not 
 even but no there was a new memory there love 
 he had for her, passionate, tender, true, a love that 
 had not its place among the terrors of the past. But 
 was not this a new dream, a new delusion of his 
 shaken brain ? And if he loved her, was it not yet 
 more terrible to have deceived the loved one, more 
 monstrous, more infamous, more utterly damnable? 
 The figure of her rose before him, pitiful, thin, weak, 
 
238 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 with outstretched hands and trusting eyes and he 
 had taken of her all she had. Neither heart, nor body, 
 nor brain could bear more. 
 
 Vjera ! God ! Forgive me ! With the cry of a 
 breaking heart the poor Count fell forward from his 
 seat and lay in a heap, motionless upon the floor. 
 
 Only his stiffening fingers, crooked and contorted, 
 worked nervously for a few minutes, scratching at the 
 rough boards. Then all was quite still in the little room. 
 
 There was a noise outside, and some one opened 
 the door. The Cossack stood upon the threshold, 
 holding his hand up against the lamp, for he was 
 dazzled as he entered from the outer darkness of the 
 stairs. He looked about, and at first saw nothing, for 
 the Count had fallen in the shadow of the table. Then, 
 seeing where he lay, Johann Schmidt came forward 
 and knelt down, and with some difficulty turned his 
 friend upon his back. 
 
 Dead poor Count ! he exclaimed in a low voice, 
 bending down over the ghastly face. 
 
 The pale eyes were turned upward and inward, and 
 the forehead was damp. Schmidt unbuttoned the 
 threadbare coat from the breast. There was no waist 
 coat under it nothing but a patched flannel shirt. 
 A quantity of papers were folded neatly in a flat pack 
 age in the inner pocket. Schmidt put down his head 
 and listened for the beatings of the heart. 
 
XI 
 
 239 
 
 So it is over ! he said mournfully, as he straight 
 ened himself upon his knees. Then he took one of 
 the extended hands in his, and pressed it, and looked 
 into the poor man s face, and felt the tears coming into 
 his eyes. 
 
 You were a good man, he said in sorrowful tones, 
 and a brave man in your way, and a true gentleman 
 and I suppose it was not your fault if you were 
 mad. Heaven give you peace and rest ! 
 
 He rose to his feet, debating what he should do. 
 
 Poor Vjera ! he sighed. Poor Vjera she will 
 go next ! 
 
 Once more, he looked down, and his eye caught 
 sight of the papers projecting from the inner pocket of 
 the coat, which was still open and thrown back upon 
 the floor. It has been noticed more than once that 
 Johann Schmidt was a man subject to attacks of 
 quite irresistible curiosity. He hesitated a moment, 
 and then came to the conclusion that he was as much 
 entitled as any one else to be the Count s executor. 
 
 It cannot harm him now, he said, as he extracted 
 the bundle from its place. 
 
 One of the letters was quite fresh. The rest were 
 evidently very old, being yellow with age and ragged 
 at the edges. He turned over the former. It was 
 addressed to Count Skariatine, at his lodging, and it- 
 bore the postmark of a town in Great- Eussia, between 
 
240 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Petersburg and Moscow. Schmidt took out the sheet, 
 and his face suddenly grew very dark and angry. The 
 handwriting was either in reality Akulina s, or it 
 resembled it so closely as to have deceived a better 
 expert than the Cossack. 
 
 The missive purported to be written by the wife of 
 Count Skariatine s .steward, and it set forth in rather 
 servile and illiterate language that the said Count 
 Skariatine and his eldest son were both dead, having 
 been seized on the same day with the smallpox, of 
 which there had been an epidemic in the neighbour 
 hood, but which was supposed to have quite disappeared 
 when they fell ill. A week later and within twenty- 
 four hours of each other they had breathed their 
 last. The Count Boris Michaelovitch was now the 
 heir, and would do well to come home as soon as 
 possible to look after his possessions, as the local 
 authorities were likely to make a good thing out of 
 it in his absence. 
 
 The Cossack swore a terrific oath, and stamped 
 furiously on the floor as he rose to his feet. It was 
 evident to him that Akulina had out of spite con 
 cocted the letter, and had managed to have it posted 
 by some friend in Eussia. He was not satisfied with 
 one expletive, nor with many. The words he used 
 need not be translated for the reader of the English 
 language. It is enough to say that they were the 
 
xi A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 241 
 
 strongest in the Cossack vocabulary, that they were 
 well selected and applied with force and precision. 
 
 Johann Schmidt was exceedingly wroth with the 
 tobacconist s wife, for it was clear that she had caused 
 the Count s untimely death by her abominable practical 
 joke. He went and leaned out of the window, churn 
 ing and gnashing the fantastic expressions of his rage 
 through his teeth. 
 
 Suddenly there was a noise in the room, a distinct, 
 loud noise, as of shuffling with hands and feet. The 
 Cossack s nerves were proof against ghostly terrors, 
 but as he turned round he felt that his hair was 
 standing erect upon his head. 
 
 The Count was on Ins feet and was looking at him, 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 1 THOUGHT you were dead ! gasped the Cossack in 
 dismay. 
 
 There was no answer. The Count did not appear 
 to hear Schmidt s voice nor to see his figure. He 
 acted like a man walking in his sleep, and it was by 
 no means certain to the friend who watched him that 
 his eyes were always open. As though nothing unusual 
 had happened, the Count calmly undressed himself 
 and got into bed. Three minutes later he was sound 
 asleep and breathing regularly. 
 
 For a long time Johann Schmidt stood transfixed 
 with wonder in his place at the open window. At 
 last it dawned upon him that his friend had not been 
 really dead, but had fallen into some sort of fit in the 
 course of his lonely meditations, from which he had 
 been awakened by the Cossack s terrific swearing, 
 Why the latter had seemed to be invisible and in 
 audible to him, was a matter which Schmidt did not 
 attempt to solve. It was clear that the Count was 
 alive, and sleeping like other people. Schmidt hesi- 
 
CHAP, xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 243 
 
 tated some time as to what he should do. It was 
 possible that his friend might wake again, and find 
 himself desperately ill. He had been so evidently 
 unlike himself, that Schmidt had feared he would 
 become a raving maniac in the night, and had entered 
 the house at his heels, seating himself upon the stairs 
 just outside the door to wait for events, with the odd 
 fidelity and forethought characteristic of him. The 
 Count s cry had warned him that all was not right 
 and he had entered the room, as has been seen. 
 
 He determined to wait some time longer, to see 
 whether anything would happen. Meanwhile, he 
 thrust Akulina s letter into his pocket, reflecting that 
 as it was a forgery it would be best that the Count 
 should not have it, lest he should be again misled by 
 the contents. He sat down and waited. 
 
 Nothing happened. The clocks chimed the quarters 
 up to one in the morning, a quarter-past, half -past 
 Schmidt was growing sleepy. The Count breathed 
 regularly and lay in his bed without moving. Then, 
 at last, the Cossack rose, looked at his friend once 
 more, blew out the lamp, felt his way to the door and left 
 the room. As he walked home through the quiet streets 
 he swore that he would take vengeance upon Akulina, 
 by producing the letter and reading it in her husband s 
 presence, and before the assembled establishment, before 
 the Count made his appearance. It was indeed not 
 
244 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 probable that he would come at all, considering all 
 that he had suffered, though Schmidt knew that he 
 generally came on Thursday morning, evidently weary 
 and exhausted, but unconscious of the delusion which 
 had possessed him during the previous day. Possibly, 
 he was subject to a similar fit every Wednesday night, 
 and had kept the fact a secret. Schmidt had always 
 wondered what happened to him at the moment when 
 he suddenly forgot his imaginary fortune and returned 
 to his everyday senses. 
 
 The morning dawned at last, and it was Thursday. 
 As there was no necessity for liberating the Count 
 from arrest to-day, Akulina roused her husband with 
 the lark, gave him his coffee promptly and sent him 
 off to open the shop and catch the early customer. 
 Before the shutters had been up more than a quarter 
 of an hour, and while Fischelowitz was still sniffing 
 the fresh morning air, Johann Schmidt appeared. His 
 step was brisk, his brow was dark and his boots 
 creaked ominously. With a very brief salutation he 
 passed into the back shop, slipped off his coat and set 
 to work with the determination of a man who feels 
 that he must do something active as a momentary 
 relief to his feelings. 
 
 Next came Vjera, paler than ever, with great black 
 rings under her tired eyes, broken with the fatigues 
 and anxieties of the previous day, but determined to 
 
xii A CIGARETTE -MAKER S ROMANCE 245 
 
 double her work, if that were possible, in order to 
 make up for the money she had borrowed of Schmidt 
 and, through him, of Dumnoff. As she dropped her 
 shawl, Fischelowitz caught sight of the back of her 
 head, and broke into a laugh. 
 
 Why, Vjera ! he cried. What have you done ? 
 You have made yourself look perfectly ridiculous ! 
 
 The poor girl turned scarlet, and busied herself at 
 her table without answering. Her fingers trembled 
 as she tried to handle her glass tube. The Cossack, 
 whose anger had not been diluted by being left to 
 boil all night, dropped his swivel knife and went up 
 to Fischelowitz with a look in his face so extremely 
 disagreeable that the tobacconist drew back a little, 
 not knowing what to expect. 
 
 I will tell you something, said Schmidt, savagely. 
 You will have to change your manners if you expect 
 any of us to work for you. 
 
 What do you mean ? stammered Fischelowitz, in 
 whom nature had omitted to implant the gift of 
 physical courage, except in such measure as saved 
 him from the humiliation of being afraid of his wife. 
 
 I mean what I say, answered the Cossack. And 
 if there is anything I hate, it is to repeat what I have 
 said before hitting a man. His fists were clenched 
 already, and one of them looked as though it were 
 on the point of making a very emphatic gesture, 
 
246 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP, 
 
 Fischelowitz retired backwards into the front shop, 
 while Vjera looked on from within, now pale again 
 and badly frightened. 
 
 Herr Schmidt ! Herr Schmidt ! Please, please 
 be quiet ! It does not matter ! she cried. 
 
 Then what does matter ? inquired the Cossack 
 over his shoulders. If Vjera has cut off her hair, 
 lie said, turning again to Fischelowitz, she has had a 
 good reason for it. It is none of your business, nor 
 mine either. 
 
 So saying he was about to go back to his work 
 again. 
 
 Upon my word ! exclaimed the tobacconist. Upon 
 my word ! I do not understand what has got into 
 the fellow/ 
 
 You do not understand ? cried Schmidt, facing 
 him again. I mean that if you laugh at Vjera I will 
 break most of your bones. 
 
 At that moment Akulina s stout figure appeared, 
 entering from the street. The Cossack stood still, 
 glaring at her, his face growing white and contracted 
 with anger. He was becoming dangerous, as good- 
 tempered men will, when roused, especially when they 
 have been brought up among people who, as a tribe, 
 would rather fight than eat, at any time of day, from 
 pure love of the thing. Even Akulina, who was not 
 timid, hesitated as she stood on the threshold. 
 
xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 247 
 
 What has happened ? she inquired, looking from 
 Schmidt to her husband. 
 
 The latter came to her side, if not for protection, as 
 might be maliciously supposed, at least for company. 
 
 I cannot understand at all, said Fischelowitz, still 
 edging away. 
 
 You understand well enough, I think, and as for 
 you, Frau Fischelowitz, I have something to talk of 
 with you, too. But we will put it off until later, he 
 added, as though suddenly changing his mind. 
 
 The Count himself had appeared in the doorway 
 behind Akulina. Both she and her husband stood 
 aside, looking at him curiously. 
 
 Good-morning, he said, gravely taking off his hat 
 and inclining his head a little. He acted as though 
 quite unconscious of what had happened on the 
 previous day, and they watched him as he quietly 
 went into the room beyond, into which the Cossack had 
 retired on seeing him enter. 
 
 He hung up his hat in its usual place, nodding to 
 Schmidt, who was opposite to him. Then, as he turned, 
 he met Vj era s eyes. It was a supreme moment for 
 her, poor child. Would he remember anything of what 
 had passed on the previous day ? Or had he forgotten 
 all, his debt, her saving of him and the sacrifice she 
 had made ? He looked at her so long and so steadily 
 that she grew frightened. Then all at once he came 
 
248 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 close to her, and took her hand and kissed it as he had 
 done when they had last parted, careless of Schmidt s 
 presence. 
 
 I have not forgotten, dear Vjera/ he whispered in 
 her ear. 
 
 Schmidt passed them quickly and again went out, 
 whether from a sense of delicacy, or because he saw an 
 opportunity of renewing the fight outside, is not 
 certain. He closed the door of communication 
 behind him. 
 
 Vjera looked up into the Count s eyes and the blush 
 that rarely came, the blush of true happiness, mounted 
 to her face. 
 
 I have not forgotten, dearest/ he said again. 
 1 There is a veil over yesterday I think I must have 
 been ill but I know what you did for me and 
 and he hesitated as though seeking an expression. 
 
 For a few seconds again the poor girl felt the agony 
 of suspense she knew so well. 
 
 I do not know what right a man so poor as I has 
 to say such a thing, Vjera/ he continued. But I love 
 you, dear, and if you will take me, I will love you all 
 my life, more and more. Will it be harder to be poor 
 together than each for ourselves, alone ? 
 
 Vjera let her head fall upon his shoulder, happy at 
 last. What did his madness matter now, since the 
 one memory she craved had survived its destroying 
 
xii A CIGAEETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 249 
 
 influence ? He had forgotten his glorious hopes, his 
 imaginary wealth, his expected friends, but he had not 
 forgotten her, nor his love for her. 
 
 1 Thank God ! she sighed, and the happy tears fell 
 from her eyes upon the breast of his threadbare coat. 
 
 But we must not forget to work, dear, she said, a 
 few moments later. 
 
 No he answered. We must not forget to work. 
 
 As she sat down to her table he pushed her chair 
 back for her, and put into her hands her little glass 
 tube, and then he went and took his own place 
 opposite. For a long time they were left alone, but 
 neither of them seemed to wonder at it, nor to hear 
 the low, excited tones of many voices talking rapidly 
 and often together in the shop outside. Whenever 
 their eyes met, they both smiled, while their fingers did 
 the accustomed mechanical work. 
 
 When Schmidt entered the outer shop for the 
 second time, he found the tobacconist and his wife 
 conversing in low tones together, in evident fear of 
 being overheard. He came and stood before them, 
 lowering his voice to the pitch of theirs, as he spoke. 
 
 It is no fault of yours that the Count was not 
 found dead in his bed this morning/ he began, fixing 
 his fiery eyes on Akulina. 
 
 What ? What ? What is this ? asked Fischelowitz 
 excitedly. 
 
250 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Only this/ said the Cossack, displaying the letter 
 he had brought from the Count s rooms. Nothing 
 more. Your wife has succeeded very well. He is 
 quite mad now. I found him last night, helpless, in a 
 sort of fit, stiff and stark on the floor of his room. 
 And this was in his pocket. Eead it, Herr Fischelowitz. 
 Eead it, by all means. I suppose your wife does not 
 mind your reading the letters she writes. 
 
 Fischelowitz took the letter stupidly, turned it over, 
 saw the address, and took out the folded sheet. 
 Akulina s face expressed a blank amazement almost 
 comical in its vacuity. For once, she was taken off 
 her guard. Her husband read the letter over twice 
 and examined the handwriting curiously. 
 
 A joke is a joke, Akulina, he said at last. But you 
 have carried this too far. What if the Count had died ? 
 
 I would like to know what I am accused of/ said 
 Akulina, and what all this is about. 
 
 I suppose you know your own handwriting/ 
 observed the Cossack, taking the letter from the 
 tobacconist s hands and holding it before her eyes. 
 1 And if that is not enough to drive the poor man to 
 the madhouse I do not know what is. Perhaps you 
 have forgotten all about it ? Perhaps you are mad, too ? 
 
 Akulina read the writing in her turn. Then she 
 grew very angry. 
 
 It is an abominable lie ! she exclaimed. I never 
 
xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 251 
 
 had anything to do with it. I do not know whence 
 this letter comes, and I do not care. I know nothing 
 about it. 
 
 I suppose no one can prevent your saying so, at 
 least/ retorted the Cossack. 
 
 It is very queer/ observed Fischelowitz, suddenly 
 thrusting his hands into his pockets and beginning to 
 whistle softly as he looked through the shop window. 
 
 When I tell you that it is not my handwriting, 
 you ought to be satisfied Akulina began. 
 
 And yet none of us are/ interrupted the Cossack 
 with a laugh. Strange, is it not ? 
 
 Dumnoff now came in, and a moment later the 
 insignificant girl, who began to giggle foolishly as soon 
 as she saw that something was happening which she 
 could not understand. 
 
 None of us are satisfied/ continued Johann Schmidt, 
 taking the letter from Akulina. Here, Dumnoff, here 
 Anna Nicolaevna, is this the Chosjaika s handwriting 
 or not ? Let everybody see and judge. 
 
 It is outrageous ! exclaimed Akulina, trying to get 
 possession of the letter again. 
 
 You see how she tries to get it/ laughed the 
 Cossack, savagely. She would be glad to tear it to 
 pieces of course she would. 
 
 I wish you would all go about your business/ said 
 Fischelowitz with an approach to asperity. 
 
252 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Akulina was furious, but she did not know what to 
 do. Everybody began talking together. 
 
 Of course it is the Barina s handwriting, said 
 Dumnoff confidently. He supposed it was always safe 
 to follow Schmidt s lead, when he followed any one. 
 
 Of course it is/ chimed in the insignificant Anna. 
 
 You you minx you flatter-cat, you little 
 serpent ! cried Akulina, speaking three languages at 
 once in her excitement. Go get along go to your 
 work 
 
 No, no, stay! exclaimed the Cossack authoritatively. 
 1 Do you know what this is ? he asked of all present 
 again. Our good mistress, here, has for some reason 
 or other been trying to make the Count worse by 
 having sham letters posted to him from home 
 
 It is a lie ! A base, abominable lie ! Turn the 
 man out, Christian Gregorovitch ! Turn him out, or 
 send for the police. 
 
 Turn him out yourself/ answered the tobacconist 
 phlegmatically. 
 
 Posted to him from home/ continued the Cossack, 
 and telling him that his father and brother are dead 
 and that he has come into property and the like. 
 What do you think of that ? 
 
 It is a shame/ growled Dumnoff, beginning to 
 understand. 
 
 The girl laughed foolishly. 
 
xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 253 
 
 I swear to you, began Akuliria, crimson with 
 auger. I swear to you by all 
 
 Customers, customers ! exclaimed Fischelowitz in 
 a stage whisper. Quiet, I tell you ! He made a 
 rush for the other side of the counter, and briskly 
 assumed his professional smile. The others fell back 
 into the corners. 
 
 Two gentlemen in black entered the shop. The 
 one was a stout, angry-looking person of middle age, 
 very dark, and very full about the lower part of the 
 face, which was not concealed by the closely cut black 
 beard. His companion was a diminutive little man, 
 very thin and very spruce, not less than fifty years 
 old. His face was entirely shaved and was deeply 
 marked with lines and furrows. A pair of piercing 
 grey eyes looked through big gold-rimmed spectacles. 
 As he took off his hat, a few thin, sandy-coloured locks 
 fluttered a little and then settled themselves upon the 
 smooth surface of his cranium, like autumn leaves fall 
 ing upon a marble statue in a garden. 
 
 Herr Fischelowitz ? inquired the larger of the 
 two customers, touching his hat but not removing 
 it. 
 
 c At your service, answered the tobacconist. c Cigar 
 ettes ? he inquired. Strong ? Light ? Kir, Samson, 
 Dubec ? 
 
 I am the new Russian Consul, said the stranger. 
 
254 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 This gentleman is just arrived from Petersburg and 
 has business with you. 
 
 My name is Konstantin Grabofsky, and I am a 
 lawyer, observed the little man very sharply. 
 
 Fischelowitz bowed till his nose almost came into 
 collision with the counter. The others in the shop 
 held their peace and opened their eyes. 
 
 And I am told that Count Boris Michaelovitch 
 Skariatine is here, continued the lawyer. 
 
 Oh the mad Count ! exclaimed Akulina with an 
 angry laugh, and coming forward. Yes, we can tell 
 you all about him. 
 
 I am sorry/ said Grabofsky, to hear you call him 
 mad, since my business is with him, Barina, and not 
 with you. His tone was, if possible, more incisive 
 than before. 
 
 c Of course, we know that he is not a Count at all, 
 said Akulina, somewhat annoyed by his sharpness. 
 
 Do you ? Then you are singularly mistaken. 1 
 shall be obliged if you will inform Count Skariatine 
 that Konstantin Grabofsky desires the honour of an 
 interview with him. 
 
 Go and call him, Akulina, said Fischelowitz, since 
 the gentleman wishes to see him. 
 
 Go yourself, retorted his wife. 
 
 Go together, and be quick about it ! said the 
 Consul, who was tired of waiting. 
 
xn A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 255 
 
 And please to say that I wait his convenience, 
 added the lawyer. 
 
 Dumnoff moved to Schmidt s side and whispered 
 into his ear. 
 
 Do you think they have come about the Gigerl ? 
 he inquired anxiously. Do you think they will 
 arrest us again ? 
 
 Durak ! laughed the Cossack. How can two 
 Kussian gentlemen arrest you in Munich ? This is 
 something connected with the Count s friends. It is 
 my belief that they have come at last. See here he is. 
 
 The Count now entered from the back shop, calm 
 and collected, as though not expecting anything extra 
 ordinary. The Eussian Consul took off his hat and 
 bowed with great politeness and the Count returned 
 the salutation with equal civility. Fischelowitz and 
 Akulina stood in the background anxiously watching 
 events. 
 
 The lawyer also bowed and then, turning his face to 
 the light, held his hand out. 
 
 You have not forgotten me, Count Skariatine ? 
 he said, in a tone of inquiry. 
 
 The Count stared hard at him as he took the 
 proffered hand. Gradually, his face underwent a 
 change. His forehead contracted, his eyes closed a 
 little, his eyebrows rose, and an expression of quiet 
 disdain settled about the lines of his mouth. 
 
256 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I know you very well/ he answered. You are 
 Doctor Konstantin Grabofsky, my father s lawyer. Do 
 you come from him to renew the offer you made when 
 we parted ? 
 
 I have no offer to make, said the little man. 
 Will you do me the honour to indicate some place 
 where we may be alone together for a moment ? 
 
 I have no objection to that, replied the Count. 
 We can go into the street. 
 
 They passed out together, leaving the establishment 
 of Christian Fischelowitz in a condition of great as 
 tonishment. The tobacconist hastily produced his best 
 cigarettes and entreated the Consul to try one, making 
 signs to the other occupants of the shop to return to 
 their occupations in the inner room. 
 
 How long have you known Count Skariatine ? 
 inquired the Consul, carelessly, when he was alone with 
 Fischelowitz. 
 
 Six or seven years, answered the latter. 
 
 I suppose you know his story ? Your wife was 
 good enough to inform us of that fact, though Doctor 
 Grabofsky has reason to doubt the value of her in 
 formation/ 
 
 We only know that he calls himself a Count/ 
 Fischelowitz held the authorities of his native country 
 in holy awe, and was almost frightened out of his 
 senses at being thus questioned by the Consul. 
 
xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 257 
 
 He is quite at liberty to do so/ answered the 
 latter with a laugh. The story is simple enough/ he 
 continued, and there is no reason why you should not 
 know it. The late Count Skariatine had two sons, of 
 whom the present Count was the younger. Ten years 
 ago, when barely twenty, he quarrelled with his father 
 and elder brother, and they parted in anger. I must 
 say that he seems to have acted hastily, though the 
 old gentleman s views of life were eccentric, to say the 
 least of it. For some reason or other, the elder brother 
 never married. I have heard it said that he was 
 crippled in childhood. Be that as it may, he was 
 vindictive and spiteful by nature, and prevented the 
 quarrel from being forgotten. The younger brother left 
 the house with the clothes on his back, and steadily 
 refused to accept the small allowance offered him, and 
 which was his by right. And now the father and the 
 eldest son are dead they died suddenly of the small 
 pox and Doctor Grabofsky has come to inform the 
 Count that he is the heir. There you have the story 
 in a nutshell. 
 
 Then it is all true, after all ! cried Fischelowitz. 
 We all thought 
 
 Thinking, when one knows nothing, is a dangerous 
 and useless pastime/ observed the Consul. I will 
 take a box of these cigarettes with me. They are 
 good. 
 
258 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 Thank you most obediently, Milostivy Gosudar ! 
 exclaimed Fischelowitz, bowing low. I trust that the 
 Gospodin Consul will honour me with his patronage. 
 I have a great variety of tobaccos, Kir, Basma, Samson, 
 Dubec Imperial, Swary 
 
 While Fischelowitz was recommending the produc 
 tions of his Celebrated Manufactory to the Consul, 
 Grabofsky and the Count were walking together up and 
 down the smooth pavement outside. 
 
 A great change has taken place in your family, 
 Grabofsky was saying. Had anything less extra 
 ordinary occurred, I should have written to you instead 
 of coming in person. Your brother is dead, Count 
 Skariatine. 
 
 Dead ! exclaimed the Count, who had no recollec 
 tion of the letter abstracted from his pocket by the 
 Cossack. It had reached him after the weekly attack 
 had begun, and the memory of it was gone with that 
 of so many other occurrences. 
 
 Dead, repeated the lawyer sharply, as though he 
 would have made a nail of the word to drive it into 
 the coffin. 
 
 And how many children has he left ? inquired 
 the Count. 
 
 1 He died unmarried. 
 
 So that I 
 
 You are the lawful heir/ 
 
xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 259 
 
 Unless my father marries again. The colour rose 
 in the Count s lean cheeks. 
 
 That is impossible. 
 
 Why ? 
 
 Because he is dead, too. 
 
 < Then 
 
 You are Count Skariatine, and I have the honour 
 to offer you my services at this important juncture. 
 
 The Count breathed hard. The shock, overtaking 
 him when he was in his normal condition, was 
 tremendous. The colour came and went rapidly in 
 his features, and he caught his breath, leaning heavily 
 upon the little lawyer, who watched his face with 
 some anxiety. Akulina s remark about the Count s 
 madness had made him more careful than he would 
 otherwise have been in his manner of breaking the 
 news. 
 
 I am not well, said the Count in a low voice. 
 To-day is "Wednesday I am never well on Wednes 
 days. 
 
 To-day is Thursday, answered Grabofsky. 
 
 Thursday ? Thursday the Count reeled, and 
 
 would have fallen, but for the support of the nervous 
 little man s wiry arm. 
 
 Then, in the space of a second, took place that 
 strange phenomenon of the intelligence which is as yet 
 so imperfectly understood. It is called the Transfer 
 
2GO A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CRAP. 
 
 in the jargon of the half-developed science which deals 
 with suggestion and the like. Its effects are strange, 
 sudden and complete, often observed, never understood, 
 but chronicled in hundreds of cases and analysed in 
 every seat of physiological learning in Europe. In the 
 twinkling of an eye, a part or the whole of the in 
 telligence, or of the sensations, is reversed in action, 
 and this with a logical precision of which no descrip 
 tion can give any idea. It is universally considered 
 as the first step in the direction of recovery. 
 
 The action of the Count s mind was transferred/ 
 therefore, since the word is consecrated by usage. 
 Fortunately for him, the transfer coincided with a 
 material change in his fortunes. Had this not been 
 the case it would have had the effect of making him 
 mad through the whole week, and sane only from 
 Tuesday evening until the midnight of Wednesday. 
 As it was, the result was of a contrary nature. Being 
 now in reality restored to wealth and dignity, he was 
 able to understand and appreciate the reality during 
 six days, becoming again, in imagination, a cigarette- 
 maker upon the seventh, a harmless delusion which 
 already shows signs of disappearing, and from which 
 the principal authorities confidently assert that he will 
 soon be quite free. 
 
 He passed but one moment in a state of semi- 
 consciousness. Then he raised his head, and stood 
 
xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 261 
 
 erect, and to the great surprise of Grabofsky, showed 
 no further surprise at the news he had just received. 
 
 1 The fact is/ he said, quietly, I was expecting you 
 yesterday. I had received a letter from the wife of 
 the steward informing me of the death of my father 
 and brother. I think your coming to-day must have 
 disturbed me, as I have some difficulty in recalling 
 the circumstances which attended our meeting here. 
 
 A passing indisposition/ suggested Grabofsky. 
 Nothing more. The weather is warm, sultry in fact. 
 
 Yes, it must have been that. And now, we had 
 better communicate the state of things to Herr 
 Fischelowitz, to whom I consider myself much in 
 debted. 
 
 Our Consul came with me/ said the lawyer. He 
 is in the shop. Perhaps you did not notice him. 
 
 No I do not think I did. I am afraid he 
 thought me very careless. 
 
 Not at all, not at all. Grabofsky began to think 
 that there had been some truth in Akulina s remarks 
 after all, but he kept his opinion to himself, then and 
 afterwards, a course which was justified by subsequent 
 events. He and the Count turned towards the shop, 
 and, entering, found Fischelowitz and the Consul 
 conversing together. 
 
 The Count bowed to the latter with much cere 
 mony. 
 
262 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I fear, he said, that you must have thought me 
 careless just now. The suddenness of the news I 
 have received has affected me. Pray accept my best 
 thanks for your kindness in accompanying Doctor 
 Grabofsky this morning/ 
 
 Do not mention it, Count. I am only too glad to 
 be of service. 
 
 You are very kind. And now, Herr Fischelowitz, 
 he continued, turning to the tobacconist, it is my 
 pleasant duty to thank you also. I looked for these 
 gentlemen yesterday. They have arrived to-day. 
 The change which I expected would take place has 
 come, and I am about to return to my home. The 
 memories of poverty and exile can never be pleasant, 
 but I do not think that I have any just reason to 
 complain. Will it please you, Herr Fischelowitz, and 
 you, gentlemen, to go into the next room with me ? 
 I wish to take my leave of those who have so long 
 been my companions. 
 
 Fischelowitz opened the door of communication and 
 held it back respectfully for the Count to pass. His 
 ideas were exceedingly confused, but his instinct told 
 him to make all atonement in his power for his wife s 
 outbursts of temper. The Count entered first, and the 
 other three followed him, Grabofsky, the Consul and 
 Fischelowitz. The little back shop was very full. 
 To judge from the last accents of Akulina s voice she 
 
xii A CIGAEETTE-MAKER S EOMANCE 263 
 
 had been repaying Johann Schmidt with compound 
 interest, now that the right was on her side, for the 
 manner in which he had attacked her. As the Count 
 entered, however, all held their peace, and he began to 
 speak in the midst of total silence. He stood by the little 
 black table upon which his lean, stained fingers had manu 
 factured so many hundreds of thousands of cigarettes. 
 
 Herr Fischelowitz, he began, I am here to say 
 good-bye to you, to your good wife, and to my 
 companions. During a number of years you have 
 afforded me the opportunity of earning an honest 
 living, and I have to thank you very heartily for the 
 forbearance you have shown me. It is not your fault 
 if your consideration for me has sometimes taken a 
 passive rather than an active form. It was not your 
 business to fight my battles. Give me your hand, 
 Herr Fischelowitz. We part, as we have lived, good 
 friends. I wish you all possible success. 
 
 The tobacconist bowed low as he respectfully shook 
 hands. 
 
 Too much honour/ he said. 
 
 Frau Fischelowitz, continued the Count, you have 
 acted according to your lights and your beliefs. I bear 
 you no ill-will. I only hope that if any other poor 
 gentleman should ever take my place you will not 
 make his position harder than it would naturally be, 
 and I trust that all may be well with you. 
 
264 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE CHAP. 
 
 I never meant it, Herr Graf/ said Akulina, awk 
 wardly, as she took his proffered hand. 
 
 He turned to the Cossack. 
 
 Good-bye, Johann Schmidt, good-bye. I shall see 
 you again, before long. We have always helped each 
 other, my friend. I have much to thank you for. 
 
 You have helped me, you mean/ said the Cossack, 
 in a rather shaky voice. 
 
 No, no each other, and we will continue to do 
 so, I hope, in a different way. Good-bye, DumnofT. 
 You have a better heart than people think. 
 
 Are you not going to take me to Eussia, after 
 all ? asked the mujik, almost humbly. 
 
 Did I say I would ? Then you shall go. But 
 not as coachman, Dumnoff. Not as coachman, I think. 
 Good-bye, Anna Mcolaevna/ he said, turning to the 
 insignificant girl, who was at last too much awed to 
 giggle. 
 
 Then he came to Vj era s place. The girl was 
 leaning forward, hiding her face in her hands, and 
 resting her small, pointed elbows on the table. 
 
 Yjera, dear/ he said, bending down to her, will 
 you come with me, now ? 
 
 She looked up, suddenly, and her face was very 
 white and drawn, and wet with tears. 
 
 Oh no, no ! she said in a low voice. How can 
 I ever be worthy of you, since it is really true ? 
 
xii A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE 265 
 
 But the Count put his arm round the poor little 
 shell-maker s waist, and made her stand beside him in 
 the midst of them all. 
 
 Gentlemen/ he said, in his calmly dignified 
 manner, let me present to you the Countess Skaria- 
 tine. She will bear that name to-morrow. I owe 
 you a confession before leaving you, in her honour 
 and to my humiliation. I had contracted a debt of 
 honour, and I had nothing wherewith to pay it. 
 There was but an hour left an hour, and then my 
 life and my honour would have been gone together. 
 
 Vjera looked up into his face with a pitiful en 
 treaty, but he would go on. 
 
 She saved me, gentlemen, he continued. She 
 cut off her beautiful hair from her head, and sold it 
 for me. But that is not the reason why she is to be 
 my wife. There is a better reason than that. I love 
 her, gentlemen, with all my heart and soul, and she 
 has told me that she loves me. 
 
 He felt her weight upon him, and, looking down, 
 he saw that she had fainted in his arms, with a look 
 of joy upon her poor wan face which none there had 
 ever seen in the face of man or woman. 
 
 And so love conquered. 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed by R. & R. CLARK, Edinburgh. 
 
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 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE | 
 
 ABBEY (E. A.) . . 13, 40 
 ABBOT (F. E.) . . .35 
 ABBOTT(RCV. E.) 3,14,32,33,35 
 .A GLAND (Sir H. W.). . 24 
 ADAMS (Sir F. O.) . ,., 30 
 ADDISON . . .4, 20, 21 
 
 AGASSIZ (L.) ... 3 
 AINGER(RCV. A.) 5, 17, 21, 35 
 AINSLIE(A. D.). . . 14 
 AIRY (Sir G. B.) . 2, 29 
 AITKEN (Mary C.) . . 21 
 AITKEN (Sir W.) . . 25 
 ALBEMARLE (Earl of) . 3 
 ALDRICH (T. B.) . 14 
 
 ALEXANDER (C. F.) . . 21 
 ALEXANDER (T.) . . 9 
 ALEXANDER (Bishop) . 35 
 ALLBUTT (T. C.) . .24 
 ALLEN (G.) ... 6 
 ALLINGHAM (W.) . . 21 
 AMIEL(H.F.) ... 3 
 ANDERSON (A.). . . 14 
 ANDERSON (Dr. McCall) 24 
 ANDREWS (Dr. Thomas) . 28 
 APPLETON (T. G.) . . 40 
 ARCHER-HIND (R. D.) . 39 
 ARNOLD.M. 8,17,20,21.31,32,33 
 ARNOLD (Dr. T. j . . 10 
 ARNOLD (W. T.) . . 10 
 ASHLEY (W.J.). . . 3 
 ATKINSON (J. B.l . .2 
 ATKINSON (Rev. J. C.) 1,41 
 ATTWELL (H.) . . . 21 
 AUSTIN (Alfred) . 15 
 
 AUTENRIETH (Georg) . 8 
 
 AWDRY (F.) . . .41 
 
 B/VCON (Francis) . 20,21 
 
 BAINES (Rev. E.) . . 35 
 BAKER (Sir S. W.) 30, 32, 40, 41 
 
 BAI.CH (Elizabeth) . .12 
 
 BALDWIN (Prof. J. M.) . 28 
 
 BALFOUR (F. M.) . . 6 
 
 BALFOUR (J. B.) . . 6 
 
 BALL(V.). . . 41 
 
 BALL (W. Platt) . 6 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BALL (W. W. R.) . 
 
 24 
 
 BALLANCE(C. A.) . 
 
 24 
 
 BARKER (Lady) . 2 
 
 8,40 
 
 BARNARD (C.) . 
 
 29 
 
 BARNES (W.) . 
 
 3 
 
 BARNETT (E. A ) . 
 
 . 8 
 
 BARTHOLOMEW (J. G.) 
 
 3 
 
 BARTLETT (J.) . 
 BARWELL (R.) . 
 
 . 8 
 24 
 
 BASTABLE (Prof. C. F.) 
 
 3 
 
 BASTIAN (H. C.) . 
 
 6, 24 
 
 BATESON (W.) . 
 BATH (Marquis of) . 
 
 6 
 3 r 
 
 BATHER (Archdeacon) 
 
 35 
 
 BAXTER (L.) . 
 
 3 
 
 BEESLY (Mrs.) . 
 
 10 
 
 BENHAM (Rev. W.) 5, 21, 
 
 22, 35 
 
 BENSON (Archbishop) 
 
 35, 36 
 
 BERLIOZ (H. 
 
 3 
 
 BERNARD (J.H.) . 
 
 27 
 
 BERNARD (H. M.) . 
 
 6 
 
 BERNARD (M.). 
 
 !3 
 
 BERN AI> D (T. D.) . 
 
 35 
 
 BERNERS (J.) . 
 
 i? 
 
 BESANT(W.) . 
 
 4 
 
 BETHUNE-BAKER (J. F.] 
 BETTANY (G. T.) 
 
 35 
 . 6 
 
 BlCKERTOM (T. H.) . 
 
 . 24 
 
 BIGELOW(M. M.) . 
 
 13 
 
 DlKELAS D.) . . 
 
 . .8 
 
 BiNNiE(Rev.W.) . 
 
 35 
 
 BIRKS (T. R.) . 6, 27, 
 
 33. 36 
 
 BjORNSON (B.) . 
 
 . 18 
 
 BLACK (W.) . 
 
 4 
 
 BLACKBURNE (E.) . 
 
 3 
 
 BLACKIK (J. S.) .10, 
 
 5. 20 
 
 BLAKE (J. F.) . 
 BLAKE (W.) . 
 
 3 
 3 
 
 BLAKISTON (J. R.) . 
 
 . 8 
 
 BLANFORD(H. F.) . 
 
 9. 2 9 
 
 BLANFORD(W.T.) . 
 
 9, 26 
 
 BLOMFIELD (R.) 
 
 9 
 
 BLYTH (A. W.) . 
 
 . 12 
 
 BOHM-BAWEKK (Prof.) 
 BOISSEVAIN (G. M.) . 
 
 30 
 30 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BOLDREWOOD (Rolf ). . l8 
 
 BONAR (J.) . . . 3O 
 
 BOND (Rev. J.). . . 33 
 
 BOOLE (G.) . a8 
 
 BOOTH (C.) . .39 
 
 BosE(W. P. du) . ; ..Mi9 
 
 BOUGHTON (G. H.) . .40 
 
 BOUTMY(E.) . . ... jrj 
 
 BOWEN (H. C.) . . . 27 
 
 BOWER (F. O.) . . . 6 
 
 BRETT (R. B ) . . .10 
 
 BRIDGES (J. A.). . . 20 
 
 BRIGHT (H. A.). . . 9 
 
 BRIGHT (John) . . .31 
 
 BRIMLEY(G.) . . . ao 
 
 BRODiE(Sir B.C.) . . 7 
 
 BRODRIBB (W. J.) . 14, 40 
 
 BROOKE (Sir J.) . . 3 
 BROOKE (S. A.). 13,14,21,35,36 
 
 BROOKS (Bishop) . . 36 
 
 BROWN (A. C.) . . . 28 
 
 BROWN (J. A.) . . . i 
 
 BROWN (Dr. James) . . 4 
 
 BROWN (T. E. ) . . . 15 
 
 BROWNE (J. H. B.) . . 17 
 
 BROWNE (Sir T.) . . 21 
 BRUNTON(Dr.T.Lauder) 24, 36 
 
 BRYCE (James) . .10, 31, 40 
 
 BUCHHEIM (C. A^ . . 21 
 
 BUCKLAND (A.). 5, 31 
 
 BUCKLEY (A. B.) . 10, n 
 BUCKNILL (Dr. J. C.) . 24 
 BUCKTON (G. B.) . . 43 
 
 BUNYAN . . .4, 20, 21 
 
 BURGON(J.W.) . . I 5 
 
 BURKE (E.) . . . 31 
 BURN (R.). ... i 
 BURNETT (F. Hodgson) . 18 
 BURNS ... 15, 21 
 
 BURY(J. B.) ... 10 
 
 BUTCHER (Prof. S. H.) 14,20,39 
 BUTLER (A. J.). . . 39 
 BUTLER (Rev. G.) . . 36 
 BUTLER (Samuel) . . 15 
 BUTLER (W. Archer) . 36 
 
44 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PACK 
 
 BUTLER (Sir W. F.) . . 4 
 
 CRAiK(Mrs.)is, 18,20,21,40,41 
 
 EVERETT (J.D.) . . 28 
 
 BUXTON (Mrs. S.) . . 32 
 
 CRAIK (H.) . . 8, 31 
 
 FALCONER (Lanoe) . . 18- 
 
 BYRON . . . .21 
 
 CRANE (Lucy) . . 2, 41 
 
 FARRAR (Archdeacon) 6, 33, 3 6 
 
 CAIRNES (J. E.) . 30, 31 
 CALDECOTT (R.) .12, 41, 42 
 
 CRANE (Walter) . 41 
 CRAVEN (Mrs. D.) . . 8 
 
 FARRER(SirT. H.) . . 3 1 
 FAULKNER (F.). . . 7 
 
 CALDERON . . . 5 
 
 CRAWFORD (F. M.) . . 18 
 
 FAWCETT (Prof. H.) . 30, 31 
 
 CALDERWOOD (Prof. H.) 
 
 CREIGHTON (Bishop M.) 4, n 
 
 FAWCETT (M. G.) . 6, 30, 31 
 
 8, 27, 28 
 
 CRICHTON-BROWNE(SirJ.) 8 
 
 FAT (Amy) . . . 25 
 
 CALVERT (Rev. A.) . . 33 
 
 CROSS (J. A.) . . . 32 
 
 FEARNLEY(W.) . . 29 
 
 CAMERON (V. L.) . . 40 
 CAMPBELL (J. F.) . . 40 
 CAMPBELL (Dr. J. M.) . 36 
 CAMPBELL (Prof. Lewis) 5, 14 
 
 CROSSLEY (E.) ... 3 
 CROSSLEY (H.) . . -40 
 GUMMING (L.) . . .28 
 CUNNINGHAM (C.) . . 30 
 
 FEARON(D.R-) . . 8 
 FERREL(W.) . . .29. 
 FESSENDEN (C.) . . 28 
 FiNCK(H.T-) ... i 
 
 CANTILLON . . .30 
 
 CUNNINGHAM (Sir H. S.) . 18 
 
 FISHER (Rev. O.) . 28, 29 
 
 CAPES (W.W.). . .-14 
 CARLES (W.R.) . . 4 o 
 
 CUNNINGHAM (Rev. J.) . 34 
 CUNNINGHAM (Rev. W)34, 35, 36 
 
 FISKE(J.). 6, 10, 27, 31, 36. 
 FISON(L.). ... i 
 
 CARLYLE(T.) ... 3 
 
 CUNYNGHAME (Sir A. T.) . 25 
 
 FITCH (J.G.) ... 8 
 
 CARMARTHEN (Lady) . 18 
 CARNARVON (Earl of) . 39 
 
 CuRTEis(Rev.G. H.) 34,36 
 DAHN (F.) . . . 18 
 
 FITZ GERALD (Caroline) . 15 
 FITZGERALD (Edward) 15,2! 
 
 CARNOT (N. L. G.) . . 29 
 
 DAKYNS (H. G.) . . 39 
 
 FITZMAURICE (Lord E.) . 5 
 
 CARPENTER (Bishop) . 36 
 
 DALE(A.W.W.) . . 3* 
 
 FLEISCHER (E.). . . 7 
 
 CARR(J. C.) ... 2 
 
 DALTON (Rev. J. N.) . 40 
 
 FLEMING (G.) . . .18. 
 
 CARROLL (Lewis) . 28, 41 
 
 DANIELL (Alfred). . . 28 
 
 FLOWER (Prof. W. H.) . 4 2 
 
 CARTER (R. Brudenell) . 24 
 
 DANTE . . .4, 14, 39 
 
 FLUCKIGER (F. A.) . . 24 
 
 CASSEL (Dr. D.) . . 10 
 
 DAVIES (Rev. J. L1A 33, 35, 36 
 
 FORBES (A.) . . 4, 40- 
 
 CAUTLEY(G. S.) . . 15 
 
 DAVIES (W.) ... 5 
 
 FORBES (Prof. G.) . . 3 
 
 CAZENOVE (J.G.) . . 36 
 
 DAWKINS(W.B.) . . i 
 
 FORBES (Rev. G. H.) . 3 6 
 
 CHALMERS (J- B.) . . 9 
 
 DAWSON (G. M.) . . 9 
 
 FOSTER (Prof. M.) . 6, 29 
 
 CHALMERS (M. D.) . . 31 
 CHAPMAN (Elizabeth R.) . 14 
 
 DAWSON (Sir J. W.) . . 9 
 DAWSON (J.) ... i 
 
 FOTHERGILL (Dr. J. M.) 8, 24 
 FOWLE (Rev. T. W.). 31, 36 
 
 CHASSERESSE (Diana) . 32 
 
 DAY(L. B.) . . . 18 
 
 FOWLER (Rev. T.) . 4, 2 7 
 
 CHERRY (R. R.) . .13 
 
 DAY(R. E.) ... 28 
 
 FOWLER (W.W.) . . 26 
 
 CHEYNE(C. H. H.) . . 3 
 
 DEFOE (D.) . . 4, 21, 22 
 
 Fox (Dr. Wilson) . . 24 
 
 CHEYNE(T. K.) . . 33 
 
 DEIGHTON (K.). 5, 16 
 
 FOXWELL (Prof. H. S) . 30. 
 
 CHRISTIE (J.) . . .24 
 
 DELAMOTTE (P. H.) . 2 
 
 FAMJI (D.) ... 10 
 
 CHRISTIE (W. D.) . . 21 
 
 DELL (E.G.) ... 12 
 
 FRANKLAND(P. F.) . . i 
 
 CHURCH (Prof. A. H.) . 6 
 
 DE MORGAN (M.) . . 41 
 
 FRASER (Bishop) . . 37 
 
 CHURCH (Rev. A. J.) 4,32,40 
 
 DK VARIGNY(H.) . . 6 
 
 FRASER-TYTLER (C. C.) . 15 
 
 CHURCH (F. J.). . 21,39 
 
 DEVERE(A.) ... 20 
 
 FRAZER (J. G.) . . i 
 
 CHURCH (Dean) 3,4,5120,34,36 
 
 DICEY (A. V.) . . 13, 31 
 
 FREDERICK (Mrs.) . . 8 
 
 CLARK (J. W.) . . . 22 
 
 DICKENS (C.) . . 5, 18, 21 
 
 FREEMAN (Prof. E. A.) 
 
 CLARK (L.) ... 3 
 
 DiGGi.E(Rev.J. W.). . 36 
 
 2, 4, 10, IT, 31, 34 
 
 CLARK (S.) ... 4 
 
 Dn.KE(Ashton W.) . . 19 
 
 FKENCH (G. R.) . . 14- 
 
 CLARKE (C. B.). . 9, 30 
 
 DII.KK (Sir Charles W.) 25, 31 
 
 FRIEDMANN (P.) . . 3 
 
 CLIFFORD (Ed.) . . 4 
 
 DJI.LWYN (E. A.) . . 18 
 
 FROST (A. B.) . . . 4 1 
 
 CLIFFORD (W. K.) . 20, 28 
 
 DOBBIN (L.) ... 7 
 
 FROUDE(J. A.). . . 4 
 
 CLIFFORD (Mrs. W. K.) . 41 
 
 DOBSON (A.) ... 4 
 
 FULLERTON (W. M.) . 4 
 
 CLOUGH (A. H.) . 15, 20 
 COBDEN (R.) . . .31 
 
 DONALDSON (J.) . . 35 
 DONISTHORPE (W.) . . 31 
 
 FURNISS (Harry) . . 4 1 
 
 FURNIVALL (F. J.) . . 15 
 
 COHEN (J. B.) ... 7 
 
 DOWDEN (E.) . . 4, 14, 16 
 
 FTFFE(C. A.) . u 
 
 COLENSO (J. W.) . . 34 
 COLERIDGE (S. T.) . . 15 
 
 DOYLE (Sir F. H.) . . 15 
 DOYLE (J. A.) . . .n 
 
 FYFE(H.H.) . . .10- 
 GAIRDNER (J.) ... 4 
 
 COLLIER (Hon. John) . 2 
 
 DRAKE (B.) . . .39 
 
 GALTON (F.) . . i, 29 
 
 COLLINS (J. Churton) . 20 
 
 DRUMMOND(Prof. J.) 36 
 
 GAMGEE (Arthur) . . 29 
 
 COLQUHOUN (F. S.) . . 15 
 
 DRYDEN . . . .21 
 
 GARDNER (Percy) . . 2 
 
 COLVIN (Sidney) . 4, 22 
 COMBE (G.) . . 8 
 
 DuCANE(E. F.) . . 31 
 I)uFF(Sir M.E.Grant) 21,31,40 
 
 GARNETT (R.) . . .15 
 GARNETT(W.). . . 5 
 
 CONGREVE (Rev. J.) . . 36 
 
 DUNSMUIR (A.). . . 18 
 
 GASKELL (Mrs.) . . 12 
 
 CONWAY (Hugh) . . 18 
 
 COOK(E. T.) ... 2 
 
 DUNTZER (H.) . . . 4, 5 
 
 DUPRE(A.) ... 7 
 
 GASKOIN (Mrs. H.) . . 3 2 
 GEDDES (W. D.) . 14, 4 
 
 COOKE (C. Kinloch) . . 25 
 
 DYER (L.) . . . . i 
 
 GBE (W. H.) . . 28, 29 
 
 COOKE (J. P.) . . 7, 36 
 
 EADIE (J.). . . 4, 3*, 33 
 
 GEIKIE (Sir A.). . 9, 10, 29, 
 
 CORBETT (J.) . . 4, l8, 41 
 
 EASTLAKE (Lady) . . 35 
 
 GENNADIUS (J.) . 18 
 
 CORFIELD (W. H.) . . 12 
 
 EBERS(G.) . x8 
 
 GIBBINS(H. de B.) . . 10 
 
 CORRY (T. H.) . . .7 
 
 EDGEWORTH (Prof. F. Y.). 30 
 
 GIBBON (Charles) . 4- 
 
 COTTERILL (J. H.) . . 9 
 
 EDMUNDS (Dr. W.) . . 22 
 
 GILCHRIST (A.). . . 3 
 
 COTTON (Bishop) . . 36 
 
 EDWARDS-MOSS (Sir J. E.) 32 
 
 GILES (P.). ... 27 
 
 COTTON (C.) . . . 13 
 
 EiMER(G.H.T.) . . 6 
 
 OILMAN (N. P.) . . 3 
 
 COTTON (J. S.) . . . 31 
 COUES (E.) . . . 43 
 
 COUR I .(OPE (W. J.) . . 4 
 
 ELDERTON (W. A.) . . 9 
 ELLERTON (Rev. J.) . . 36 
 ELLIOT (Hon. A.) . . 31 
 
 GILMORE (Rev. J.) . . 13 
 GLADSTONE (Dr. J. H.) 7,8 
 GLADSTONE (W. E.). . 14 
 
 COWELL (G.) . .24 
 
 ELLIS (T.). ... 2 
 
 GLAISTER (E.) . . . 2, 8 
 
 COWPER . . . 21, 22 
 
 EMERSON (R. W.) . 4, 21 
 
 GODFRAY(H.) . . 3- 
 
 Cox(G.V.) ... 10 
 
 EVANS (S.) ... 15 
 
 GODKIN(G. S.). . .5- 
 
INDEX. 
 
 45 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGB 
 
 GOETHE . . . 4, 15 
 
 HOOPER (G.) . . 4 
 
 KNIGHT (W.) . . .14 
 
 GOLDSMITH 4, 12, 15, 21, 22 
 
 HOOPER (W. H.) . 2 
 
 KUENEN (Prof. A.) . . 32 
 
 Goo DALE (Prof. G. L.) . 6 
 
 HopE(F.J.) . . 9 
 
 KYNASTON (Rev. H.) 37, 40 
 
 GOODFELLOW (J.) . . 12 
 
 HOPKINS (E.) . . 15 
 
 LABBERTON (R. H.). . 3 
 
 GORDON (General C. G.) . 5 
 
 Hoppus(M. A. M.) . 19 
 
 LAFARGUE(P.). . . 19 
 
 GORDON (Lady Duff) . 40 
 
 HORACE . . 14, 21, 39 
 
 LAMB. . . .5, 21, 22 
 
 GoscHEN(Rt. Hon. G. J.). 30 
 
 H RT(Prof.F.J.A.). 33,34 
 
 LANCIANI (Prof. R.). . 2 
 
 GossE (Edmund) . 4, 14 
 
 HORTON (Hon. S. D.) . 30 
 
 LANDAUER (J.). . . 7 
 
 Gow(J.) .... a 
 
 HOSKEN(J.D.) . .15 
 
 LANDOR . . . 4, 22 
 
 GRAHAM (D.) . .15 
 
 HOVENDEN (R. M.) . . 40 
 
 LANE-POOLE (S.) . . 22 
 
 ORAHAM(J.W.) . . 16 
 
 HOWELL (George) . . 30 
 
 LANFREY (P.) ... 5 
 
 GRAND HOMME (E.) . . 8 
 
 HOWES (G. B.) . . . 43 
 
 LANG (Andrew) 13, 22, 39 
 
 GRAY (Prof. Andrew) . 28 
 -GRAY (Asa) ... 6 
 
 HOWITT(A.W.) . . I 
 
 HOWSON (Very Rev. J. S.) 34 
 
 LANG (Prof. Arnold). . 42 
 LANGLEY (J. N.) . . 29 
 
 GRAY ... 4, 15, aa 
 
 HOZIER (Col. H. M.). . 25 
 
 LANKESTER (Prof. Ray) 6, 23 
 
 GREEN (J.R.) 9, n, 12,21,21 
 
 HUBNER (Baron) . . 40 
 
 LASLETT (T.) ... 7 
 
 GREEN (Mrs. J. R.) . 4, 9, n 
 
 HUGHES (T.) 5, 15, 19, 22, 40 
 
 LEA (A. S.) 29 
 
 GREEN (W. S.) . . . 40 
 
 HULL (E.). . . 2, 10 
 
 LEAF (W.) . . 14, 39 
 
 GREENHILL (W. A.) . . 21 
 
 HULLAH (J.) . . 2, 21, 26 
 
 LEAHY (Sergeant) . . 32 
 
 GREENWOOD (J. E.) . . 41 
 
 HUME(D.) ... 4 
 
 LEE(M.) .... 19 
 
 GRENFELL (Mrs.) . . 8 
 
 HuMPHRY(Prof.SirG.M.) 30,42 
 
 LEE (S.) . . 21, 39, 40 
 
 GRIFFITHS (W. H.) . . 24 
 
 HUNT(W.) ... II 
 
 LEEPER (A.) . . -39 
 
 GRIMM . . . .41 
 
 HUNT(W.M.). - 2 
 
 LEGGE (A. O.) . . n, 37 
 
 GROVE (Sir G.). . 9,26 
 
 HUTTON (R. H.) . 4, 22 
 
 LEMON (Mark) . .21 
 
 GUEST (E.) . . .11 
 
 HUXLEY(T.)4, 22, 29,30, 32,43 
 
 LETHBRIDGE (Sir Roper) . n 
 
 GUEST (M.J.) . . . ir 
 
 IDDINGS (J. P.). . . 10 
 
 LEVY (Amy) . . .19 
 
 GUILLEMIN (A.) . 26, 28 
 
 1 LLINGWORTH (Rev. J. R.) 37 
 
 LEWIS (R.) . . .13 
 
 GuizoT(F.P.G-) . . 
 
 INGRAM (T. D.) . .11 
 
 LiGHTFOOT(Bp.) 23. 33, 35, 37 
 
 <JUNTON (G.) . . 30 
 
 IRVING (J.) . . .10 
 
 LlGHTWOOD (J. M.) . . 13 
 
 HALES (J. W.) . .15, 17, 20 
 HALLWARD (R. F.) . . 12 
 
 IRVING (Washington) . 12 
 JACKSON (Helen) . . 19 
 
 LINDSAY (Dr. J. A.) . . 25 
 
 LOCKYER (J. N.) . 3, 7, 29 
 
 HAMERTON (P. G.) . 2, 12, 22 
 
 JACOB (Rev. J. A.) . . 37 
 
 LODGE (Prof. O.J.) 23, 28, 29 
 
 HAMILTON (Prof. D. J .) . *4 
 HAMILTON (J.). . . 37 
 
 JAMES (Henry). . 4, 19, 22 
 JAMES (Rev. H.) . . 37 
 
 LOEWY(B.) . . .28 
 
 LOFTIE (Mrs. W. J.). . a 
 
 HANBURY (D.) . . 6, 4 
 
 AMES (Prof. W.) . . 28 
 
 LONGFELLOW (H. W.) . 22 
 
 HANNAY (David) . . 4 
 HARDWICK (Archd. C.) 34, 37 
 
 ARDINE(ReV. R.) . . 28 
 
 BANS (Rev. G. E.) . 37, 39 
 
 LONSDALE (J.) . 21, 39, 40 
 
 LOWE (W. H.) . . 32, 33 
 
 HARDY (A. S.) . 18 
 
 EBB (Prof. R. C.) . 4, ii, 14 
 
 LOWELL (J. R.). 13, 15, 23 
 
 HARDY (T.) . . . 18 
 
 ELLETT (Rev. J. H.) . 37 
 
 LuBEOCK(Sir J.) 6,7,9,23,43 
 
 HARE (A. W.) ... 22 
 
 _ ENKS (Prof. Ed.) . . 31 
 
 LUCAS (F.) ... 13 
 
 H A RE(J.C.) ... 37 
 
 ENNINGS (A. C.) . H,32 
 
 LUCAS (Joseph). . . 40 
 
 HARPER (Father Thos.) . 37 
 
 EPHSON (H.) . . .31 
 
 LUPTON (S.) ... 7 
 
 HARRIS (Rev. G. C.). . if 
 
 EVONS (W. S.) 5, 28, 30, 31, 32 
 
 LVALL (Sir Alfred) . . 4 
 
 HARRISON (F.). . 4, 6, a* 
 
 ] EX-BLAKE (Sophia). . 8 
 
 LYTE(H. C. M.) . Ix 
 
 HARRISON (Miss J.) . . 2 
 
 OHNSON (Amy) . . 29 
 
 LYTTELTON (E.) . . 23 
 
 HARTE (Bret) . . . 18 
 
 [ OHNSON (Samuel) . 5, 14 
 
 LYTTON (Earl of) . . 19 
 
 HARTIG (Dr. R.) . . * 
 
 ONES (H. Arthur) . . 15 
 
 MACALISTER (D.) . . 25 
 
 HARTLEY (Prof. W. N.) . 7 
 
 ONES (Prof. D. E.) . . 29 
 
 MACARTHUR (M.) . . n 
 
 HARWOOD (G.) . .22, 31, 34 
 
 JONES (F.). ... 7 
 
 MACAULAY (G. C.) . 17, 39 
 
 HAYES (A.) . . . ij 
 
 KALM . . -. .40 
 
 MACCOLL (Norman). . i* 
 
 HEADLAM (W.). . . I0 
 
 KANT . , ,_i >:. I-;.;: . 27 
 
 M CosH (Dr. J.) . 27, 28 
 
 HEAVISIDE(O.) . . >g 
 
 KARI . . . .42 
 
 MACDONALD (G.) . . 17 
 
 HELPS (Sir A.) . . .22 
 HEMPEL (Dr. W.) . . r 
 
 KAVANAGH(Rt.Hn.A.M.) 5 
 KAY(Rv.W.). . . 33 
 
 MACDONELL (J.) . 30, 31 
 MACKAIL(J. W.) . . 40 
 
 HERKOMER (H.) . . 2 
 
 KEARY (Annie) . u, 19, 41 
 
 MACLAGAN (Dr. T.). . 25 
 
 HERODOTUS . -39 
 
 KEARY (Eliza) ... 41 
 
 MACLAREN (Rev. Alex.) . 37 
 
 HERRICK . . . .21 
 
 KEATS . 4, 21, 22 
 
 MACLAREN (Archibald) . 42 
 
 HERTEL(Dr.) ... 9 
 
 KELLNER (Dr. L.) . . 27 
 
 MACLEAN (W. C.) . . 25 
 
 HILL (F. Davenport). . 31 
 
 KELLOGG (Rev. S. H.) . 37 
 
 MACLEAR (Rev. Dr.) 32,34,35 
 
 HlLL(O.). . . 31,32 
 
 KELVIN (Lord). .26, 28, 20 
 
 M LENNAN (J. F.) . . i 
 
 HiORNs(A.H.) . . .j 
 
 KEMPE(A. B.) . . . 28 
 
 M LENNAN (Malcolm) 19 
 
 Ho BART (Lord) . . aa 
 
 KENNEDY (Prof. A. B. W.) 9 
 
 MACMILLAN(RCV. H.)23, 37,40 
 
 HOBDAY (E.) 9 
 HODGSON (Rev. J. T.) . 5 
 HOFFDING (Prof. H.) . ** 
 
 KENNEDY (B. H.) . . 39 
 KENNEDY (P.) . . 19 
 KEYNES (J. N.). . 28, 30 
 
 MACMILLAN (Michael) 5, 16 
 MACNAMARA (C.) . . 25 
 MACQUOID (K. S.) . . 19 
 
 HOFMANN(A.W.) . . 7 
 
 KlEPERT (H.) ... 9 
 
 MADOC(F.) . IQ 
 
 HOLE (Rev. C.). . 8, n 
 HOLIDAY (Henry) . . 41 
 
 KILLEN (W. D.) . . 34 
 KINGSLEY (Charles) 5, 9, n. 
 
 MAGUIRE(J.F.) . . 4 a 
 
 MAHAFFY(Prof.J. P.) 
 
 HOLLAND (T. E.) . 13,31 
 
 HOLLWAY-CALTHROP(H.) 41 
 
 12,13,14,15,19,22,28,35,40,41 
 KINGSLEY (Henry) . 21, 40 
 
 2, II, 14, 23, 27, 77, 40 
 
 MAITLAND (F. W.) . ,3) 
 
 HOLMES (O.W.,junr.) . 13 
 
 KIPLING (J. L.). . . 40 
 
 MALET (L.) . . .10 
 
 HOMER ... 14, 
 HOOKER (Sir J. D.) . 7 , 4. 
 HOOLE (C. H.) . . 33 
 
 KIPLING (Rudyard) . . 19 
 KIRKPATRICK (Prof.) . 37 
 KLEIN (Dr. E.). . 6, 24, 26 
 
 MALORY (Sir T.) . . 2 i 
 MANSFIELD (C. B.) . 7 
 MARKHAM (C. R.) . 4 
 
4 6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 MARRIOTT (J. A. R.). .. .: 6 
 
 OLIPHANT(MrS. M. O. W.) 
 
 REID(J. S.) . . .39 
 
 MARSHALL (Prof. A.) ^ 30 
 
 4, II, 14, 20, 21, 42 
 
 REMSEN (I.) ... 7 
 
 MARTEL(C.) . . . 5 
 
 OLIVER (Prof. D.) . .7 
 
 RENDALL(RCV. F.) . 34, 38 
 
 MARTIN (Frances) . 3, 42 
 
 OLIVER (Capt. S. P.). . 40 
 
 RENDU (M. leC.) . . 10 
 
 MARTIN (Frederick). . 30 
 
 OMAN(C. W.) ... 4 
 
 REYNOLDS (H. R.) . . 38 
 
 MARTIN (H. N.) . . 43 
 MARTINEAU (H.) . . o 
 
 OSTWALD (Prof.) . . 7 
 OTTE(E. C.) . u 
 
 REYNOLDS (J. R.) . . 25 
 REYNOLDS (O.) . . 12 
 
 MARTINEAU (J.) . . 5 
 
 PAGE(T.E.) ... 33 
 
 RHODES (J. F.). . . 12 
 
 MASSON(D.) 4,5,16,21,23,27 
 
 PALGRAVE (Sir F.) . . ii 
 
 RICHARDSON (B. W.) 12, 25 
 
 MASSON (G.) . . 8, 21 
 
 PALGRAVE (F. T.) 
 
 RICKEY (A. G.). . .13 
 
 MASSON (R. O.) . . 17 
 
 2, 16, 17, 21,22, 35, 42 
 
 RITCHIE (A.) ... 5 
 
 MATURIN (Rev. W.). . 37 
 
 PALGRAVE (R. F.D.) . 31 
 
 ROBINSON (Preb. H. G.) . 38 
 
 MAUDSLEY (Dr. H.) . . 28 
 MAURICE (F.) 9,23,27,32-35,37 
 
 PALGRAVE (R. H. Inglis) . 30 
 PALGRAVE (W. G.) 1 6, 31, 40 
 
 ROBINSON (J. L.) . . 26 
 ROBINSON (Matthew) . 5 
 
 MAURICE (Col.F.) . 5,25,31 
 
 PALMER ( Lady S.) . . 20 
 
 ROCHESTER (Bishop of) . 5 
 
 MAX MULLER(F.) . . 27 
 
 PARKER (T. J.). . 6, 42 
 
 ROCKSTRO (W. S.) . . 5 
 
 MAYER (A.M.). . . 29 
 
 PARKER (W. N.) . . 42 
 
 ROGERS (J.E.T.) . 12,31 
 
 MAYOR (J. B.) . . . 34 
 
 PARKIN (G. R. ) . . 31 
 
 ROMANES (G. J.) . . 6 
 
 MAYOR (Prof. J. E. B.) . 3, 5 
 
 PARKINSON (S.) . . 29 
 
 ROSCOE (Sir H. E.) . . 7, 8- 
 
 MAZINI (L.) . . .42 
 
 PARKMAN (F.) . .11 
 
 ROSCOE(W. C.) . . T6 
 
 M CORMICK (W.S.) . . 14 
 
 PARRY (G ) . . .20 
 
 ROSEBERY (Earl of). . 4 
 
 MELDOLA (Prof. R.). 7, 28, 29 
 
 PARSONS (Alfred) . .13 
 
 ROSENBUSCH(H.) . . 10 
 
 MENDENHALL (T. C.) . 29 
 MERCIER (Dr. C.) . . 25 
 
 PASTEUR (L.) ... 7 
 PATER (W. H.) . 2, 20, 23 
 
 Ross (P.) . . . .20 
 ROSSETTI (C. G.) . 16, 42 
 
 MERCUR (Prof. J.) . . 25 
 MERBDITH (G.). . . 16 
 
 PATERSON (J.) . -13 
 PATMORE (Coventry) 21, 42 
 
 ROUTLEDGE (J.) . . 31 
 
 RowE(F.J.) ... 17 
 
 MEREDITH (L. A.) . . 13 
 
 PATTESON (J. C.) . .5 
 
 ROT (John) .. ! > i" . 20 
 
 MEYER (E. von) . . 7 
 
 PATTISON (Mark) . 4, 5, 38 
 
 RUCKER (Prof. A. W.) & 
 
 MICHELET (M.) . . ii 
 
 PAYNE (E.J.) . . 11,31 
 
 RUMFORD (Count) . . 23 
 
 MiLL(H.R.) ... 9 
 
 PEABODY (C. H.) . 9, 29 
 
 RUSHBROOKB; (W. G.) . 33. 
 
 MILLER (R. K.). . . 3 
 
 PEEL(E.). . 16 
 
 RUSSELL (Dean) . . 38 
 
 MILLIGAN (Rev. W.). 34, 37 
 
 PEILE(J.). ... 27 
 
 RUSSELL (Sir Charles) . 31 
 
 MILTON . . 5, 14, 16, 21 
 
 PELLISSIER (E.) . . 27 
 
 RUSSELL (W. Clark) . 4, 20 
 
 MINTO (Prof. W.) . 4, 19 
 
 PENNELL (J.) ... 2 
 
 RYLAND (F.) ... 14 
 
 MlTFORD (A. B.) . . 19 
 
 PENNINGTON (R.) . 10 
 
 RYLE (Prof. H. E.) 32, 38 
 
 MIVART (St. George). . 30 
 
 PENROSE (F.C.) . .1,3 
 
 ST. JOHNSTON (A.) .20, 41, 4* 
 
 MlXTER(W.G.) . . 7 
 
 PERKINS (J. B.) . . u 
 
 SADLER (H.) ... 3 
 
 MOHAMMAD . . .22 
 
 PERRY (Prof. J.) . .29 
 
 SAINTSBURY (G.) . 4, 14 
 
 MOLESWORTH (Mrs.) . 42 
 
 PETTIGREW (J. B.) . 7, 30, 42 
 
 SALMON (Rev. G.) . . 38 
 
 MOLLOY (G.) . . .28 
 
 PHILLIMORE(J. G.) . . 13 
 
 SANDKORD (Bishop). . 38 
 
 MONAHAN (J. H.) . . 13 
 
 PHILLIPS (J. A.) . . 25 
 
 SANDFORD (M. E.) . . 5 
 
 MONTELIUS (O.) . . I 
 
 PHILLIPS (W. C.) . . a 
 
 SANDYS (J. E.) . . . 41 
 
 MOORE (C. H.). . . 2 
 
 PlCTON (J. A.) . . .23 
 
 SAYCE(A. H.) ... 12 
 
 MOORHOUSE (Bishop) . 37 
 
 PlFFARD (H. G.) . . 2 5 
 
 SCHAFF(P.) ... 33 
 
 MORISON (J. C.) . . 3, 4 
 
 PlKE(W.). ... 4 I 
 
 SCHLIEMANN (Dr.) . . 2 
 
 MORLEY (John). 3, 4, 17, 23 
 
 PLATO . . 21, 22, 39 
 
 SCHORLEMMER (C.) . . 7 
 
 MORRIS (Mowbray) . . 4 
 
 PLUMPTRE (Dean) . . 38 
 
 SCOTT (D. H.) . . .6 
 
 MORRIS (R.) . . 21, 27 
 
 POLLARD (A. W.) . . 40 
 
 SCOTT (Sir W.). . 16,21 
 
 MORSHEAD (E. D. A.) . 39 
 MOULTON (L. C.) . ; fco 
 
 PoLLOCK(SirFk., 2nd Bart.) 5 
 POLLOCK (Sir F., Bart.) 13,23,31 
 
 SCRATCHLEY (Sir Peter) . 25 
 SCUDDER (S. H.) . . 43 
 
 MUDIE(C. E.) . 16 
 
 POLLOCK (Lady) . . 2 
 
 SEATON (Dr. E. C.) . . 25 
 
 MUIR(M. M.P.) . OPAty. 
 
 POLLOCK (W. H.) . . 2 
 
 SEELEY (J. R.). . . 12 
 
 MfJLLER(H.) . . Al| 
 
 POOLE (M. E.) . . . 23 
 
 SKILER (Dr. Carl) . 25, 30 
 
 MULLINGER (J. B.) . . II 
 
 POOLE (R. L.) . . . 12 
 
 SELBORNE(Earlof) 13,21,34,35 
 
 MURPHY (J. J.). . .28 
 
 POPE . . . . 4, 21 
 
 SELLERS (E.) . . . 2 
 
 MURRAY (D. Christie) 19, 20 
 
 POSTE (E.) . . 29, 39 
 
 SERVICE (J.) . . 35,38 
 
 MURRAY (E. C. G.) . . 40 
 
 POTTER (L.) . . 23 
 
 SEWELL (E. M.) . . 12 
 
 MYERS (E.) . . x6, 39 
 
 POTTER (R.) ... 38 
 
 SHADWEI.L (C. L.) . . 39 
 
 MYERS (F. W. H.) . 4, 16, 23 
 
 PRESTON (T.) . .29 
 
 SHAIRP (J.C.) . . 4, 16 
 
 MYLNE (Bishop) . . 37 
 
 PRICE (L. L. F. R.) . . 30 
 
 SHAKESPEARE . 14, 16, 21, 22 
 
 NADAL (E. S.) . . . 23 
 
 PRICKARD (A. O.) . . 23 
 
 SHANN (G.) . . 9, 29 
 
 NETTLESHIP (H.). . . 14 
 
 PRINCE ALBERT VICTOR . 40 
 
 SHARP (W.) ... 5 
 
 NEWCASTLE (Duke and 
 
 PRINCC GEORGE . . 40 
 
 SHELLEY . 16, 21 
 
 Duchess) . . t^AM 
 
 PROCTER (F.) . . 34 
 
 SHIRLEY (W. N.) . . 38 
 
 NEWCOMB (S.) . . ;." /* 
 NEWTON (Sir C. T. ) . v .- ;* 
 
 PROPERT (J. L.) .2 
 RADCLIFFE (C. B.) . .3 
 
 SHORTHOUSE (J. H.) . 20 
 SHORTLAND (Admiral) . 26 
 
 NICHOL (J.) . . 4, 14 
 
 RAMSAY (W.) ... 7 
 
 SHUCHHARDT (Carl). . 2 
 
 NOEL (Lady A.) . . 20 
 
 RANSOME(C.) . . . 14 
 
 SHUCKBURGH (E. S.) 12, 39 
 
 NORDENSKIOLD (A. E.) . 40 
 
 RATHBONE (W.) . . 8 
 
 SHUFELDT (R. W.) . . 42 
 
 NORGATE (Kate) . ;. kfc 
 
 RAWLINSON (W.G.). . 13 
 
 SIBSON (Dr. F.) . . 25 
 
 NORRIS(W. E.) . . 20 
 
 RAWNSLEY (H. D.) . . 16 
 
 SIDGWICK (Prof. H.) 27,30,31 
 
 NORTON (Charles Eliot) 3,39 
 
 RAY(P.K.) ... 28 
 
 SIME (J.) . . . 9, ii 
 
 NORTON (Hon. Mrs.) 16, 20 
 
 RAYLEIGH (Lord) . . 29 
 
 SIMPSON (Rev. W.) . . 34 
 
 OLIPHANT (T. L. K.) 23, 27 
 
 REICHEL (Bishop) . . 38 
 
 SKEAT (W.W.) . . 14 
 
INDEX. 
 
 47 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SKRINE (J. H.). 5 
 
 TENNYSON (Hallam). 13, 42 
 
 WARD (W.) . . 5, 34- 
 
 SLADE (J. H.) . . .9 
 
 THEODOLI (Marcbesa) . 20 
 
 WARINGTON (G.) . . 38 
 
 SLOMAN (Rev. A.) . .3 
 
 THOMPSON (D A. V.) . 7 
 
 WATERS (C. A.) . . 30 
 
 SMART (W.) ... 30 
 
 THOMPSON (E.). . . n 
 
 WATERTON (Charles) 26, 41 
 
 SMALLEY (G. W.) . . 23 
 
 THOMPSON (H. M.) . . 30 
 
 WATSON (E.) ... 5 
 
 SMETHAM (J. and S.) . 5 
 
 THOMPSON (S. P.) . . 29 
 
 WATSON (R. S.) . .41 
 
 SMITH (A.) . . .21 
 
 THOMSON (A. W.) . . 9 
 
 WATSON (W.) . . 17, 22 
 
 SMITH (C. B.) . . . 16 
 
 THOMSON (Sir C. W.) . 43 
 
 WEBB(W.T.) ... 17 
 
 SMITH (Goldwin) 4, 6, 32, 41 
 SMITH (H.) . . . 16 
 
 THOMSON (Hugh) . . 12 
 THORNE (Dr. Thorne) 25 
 
 WEBSTER (Mrs. A.) . . 42 
 WELBY-GREGORY (Lady) . 35. 
 
 MITH (J.) ... 7 
 
 THORNTON (J.). . . 6 
 
 WELLDON (Rev. J. E. C.) . 39 
 
 MiTH(Rev.T.) . . 38 
 SMITH (W. G.) . . .7 
 
 THORNTON (W. T.) 27, 32, 39 
 THORPE (T. E.). . . 8 
 
 WESTCOTT (Bp.) 3 2, 33,34,35,39. 
 WKSTERMARCK (E.). . i 
 
 SMITH (W. S.) ... 38 
 
 SOMERVILLE (Prof. W.) . 6 
 SOUTHEY .... 5 
 
 TURING (E.) . . 9, 23 
 THRUPP(J. F.). . . 32 
 THUDICHUM (T. L. W.) . 7 
 
 WETHERELL (J.) . . 27 
 WHEELER (J. T.) . . 12 
 WHEWELL(W.). . . 5 
 
 SPENDER (J. K.) . . 25 
 
 THURSFIELD (J- R-) -4 
 
 WHITE (Gilbert) . . 26 
 
 
 ToDHUNTER (I.) 5 
 
 WHITE (Dr. W. Hale) . 25 
 
 SPOTTISWOOPE (W.). . 29 
 STANLEY (Dean) . . 38 
 STANLEY (Hon. Maude) . 32 
 
 TORRENS (W. M.) . . 5 
 
 TOURGENIEF (I. S.) . . 2O 
 
 TouT(T.F.) . . 4, 12 
 
 WHITE (W. ) . . .29 
 WHITHAM <J. M.) . . 9 
 
 WHITNEY (W. D.) . . 8 
 
 STATHAM (R.) . . .32 
 
 TOZER(H. F.) ... 9 
 
 WHITTIER (J. G.) . 17, 23 
 
 STEERING (W.). . . 4 
 
 TRAILL (H. D.). . 4,31 
 
 WICKHAM (Rev. E. C.) . 39 
 
 STEPHEN (C. E.) . . 8 
 
 TRENCH (Capt. F.) . . 32 
 
 WlCKSTEED (P. H.) . 3 C, 32 
 
 STEPHEN (H.) . . -13 
 
 TRENCH (Archbishop) . 38 
 
 WlEDERSHEIM (R.) . . 42 
 
 STEPHEN (Sir J. F.) 12, 13, 23 
 STEPHEN (J. K.) . . 13 
 
 TREVELYAN (Sir G. O.) . 12 
 TRIBE (A.). ... 7 
 
 WlLBRAHAM (F. M.). . 35 
 
 WILKINS (Prof. A. S.) 2, 14, 39, 
 
 STEPHEN (L.) ... 4 
 
 TRISTRAM (W. O.) . . 13 
 
 WILKINSON (S.) . . 25, 
 
 STEPHENS (J. B.) . . 16 
 
 TROLLOPS (A.) ... 4 
 
 WILLIAMS (G. H.) . . 10. 
 
 STEVENSON (J. J.) . .2 
 
 TRUMAN (J.) . . 17 
 
 WILLIAMS (Montagu) . 5 
 
 STEWART (A.) . . .42 
 
 TUCKER (T. G.) . . 39 
 
 WILLIAMS (S. E.) . . 13 
 
 STEWART (Balfour) 28, 20, 38 
 
 TULLOCH (Principal). . 38 
 
 WlLLOUGHBY (F.) . . 42 
 
 STEWART (S. A.) . . 7 
 
 TURNER (C. Tennyson) . 17 
 
 WILLS (W. G.) . . .17 
 
 STOKES (Sir G. G.) . . 29 
 
 TURNER (G.) i 
 
 WILSON (A. J.). . . 31 
 
 STORY (R. H.) . 4 
 
 TURNER (H. H.) . . 29 
 
 WILSON (Sir C.) . . 4 
 
 STONE (W.H.). . . 29 
 
 TURNER (J.M.W.) . . 13 
 
 WILSON (Sir D.) . i, 4, 14 
 
 STRACHEY (Sir E.) . . 21 
 
 TYLOR(E. B.) . i 
 
 WILSON (Dr. G.) . 4, 5, 23 
 
 STRACHEY(Gen. R.). . g 
 
 TYRWHITT (R. St. J.) 2, 17 
 
 WILSON (Archdeacon) . 39 
 
 STRANGFORD(Viscountess) 41 
 
 VAUGHAN(C. J.) 33, 34>35>3 8 
 
 WILSON (Mary). . . 14 
 
 STRF:TTELL (A.) . . 16 
 STUBBS (Rev. C. W.). . 38 
 
 VAUGHAN (Rev. D. J.) 21, 38 
 
 VAUGHAN(ReV.E.T.) . 38 
 
 WINGATE (Major F. R.) . 25 
 
 WlNKWORTH (C.) . . 6 
 
 STUBBS (Bishop) . . 34 
 
 VAUGHAN (Rev. R.). . 38 
 
 WOLSELEY (Gen. Viscount) 25 
 
 SUTHERLAND (A.) . . 9 
 
 VELEY(M.) ... 20 
 
 WOOD (A. G.) . . .17 
 
 SVMONDS (J. A.) . .4 
 
 VENN (Rev. J.). . 28,38 
 
 WOOD (Rev. E. G.) . . 39 
 
 SYMONDS (Mrs. J. A.) . 5 
 
 VERNON (Hon. W. W.) . 14 
 
 WOODS (Rev. F. H.). . i 
 
 SYMONS (A.) . . .16 
 
 VERRALL(A.W.) . 14,39 
 
 WOODS (Miss M. A.). 18, 35 
 
 TAIT (Archbishop) . . 38 
 
 VERRALI. (Mrs.) . . 2 
 
 WOODWARD (C. M.) . . 9 
 
 TAIT(C.W. A.) . . 12 
 
 VICTOR (H.) ... 20 
 
 WOOLNER (T.) . . .17 
 
 TAIT (Prof. P. G.) . 28, 29 
 
 WAIN (Louis) . . 42 
 
 WORDSWORTH . 5, 14, 17, 21 
 
 TANNER (H.) i 
 
 WALDSTEIN (C.) . . 2 
 
 WORTHEY (Mrs.) . . 20 
 
 TAVERNIER(J. B.) . . 41 
 TAYLOR (Franklin) . . 26 
 
 WALKER (Prof. F. A.) . 30 
 WALKER (Jas.) . . 7 
 
 WRIGHT (Rev. A.) . . 33 
 WRIGHT (C. E. G.) . . 8 
 
 TAYLOR (Isaac). . 27, 38 
 
 WALLACE (A. R.) . 6, 26, 30 
 
 WRIGHT (J.) . .22 
 
 TAYLOR (Sedley) . 26, 29 
 
 WALLACE (Sir D. M.) . 32 
 
 WRIGHT (L.) . . .29 
 
 TEGETMEIER (W. B.) . 8 
 
 WALPOLE(S.) ... 31 
 
 WRIGHT (W.A.) 8,16,21,27,34 
 
 TEMPLE (Bishop) . . 38 
 
 WALTON (I.) . .13 
 
 WuRTZ(Ad.) . . .8 
 
 TEMPLE (Sir R.) .4 
 
 WARD (A. W.) . . 4, 14, 21 
 
 WYATT (SirM.D.) . . 2 
 
 TENNANT (Dorothy). . 41 
 
 WARD (H. M.) ... 7 
 
 YONGE (C. M.) 5, 6, 7, 8, ii, 12, 
 
 TENNIEL . . . .41 
 
 WARD(S.). ... 17 
 
 21, 22, 23, 27, 32, 42 
 
 TENNYSON . 14, 17, 22 
 
 W A RD(T.H.) ... 17 
 
 YOUNG (E. W.) . . 9 
 
 TENNYSON (Frederick) . 17 
 
 WARD (Mrs. T. H.) . 20, 42 
 
 ZIEGLER (Dr. E.) . . 25, 
 
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