strange caprices of his mistress. He walked away with the tears in his eyes.
The train started again, racing to the frontier.
"Give me your cap and mantle."
Then the Countess Marie said to her companion—
"These things are for you, monsieur; you are Ivan, my servant. I make but one condition: it is that you will never speak to me, that you will say no word to thank me on any pretext whatever."
The stranger bowed without a word.
Soon a fresh halt was made, and the officials in uniform entered the train. The Countess handed them the papers, and pointing to the man seated in the far end of the carriage—
"My servant, Ivan; here is his passport."
The train started again.
During the whole of the night they remained tête-a-tête, dumb both.
In the morning, on stopping at a German station, the stranger alighted. Then, standing by the door, he said—
"Pardon me, madame, that I break my promise, but I have deprived you of your servant; it is only fair that I should replace him. Is there anything you require?"
She replied coldly—
"Go and send my maid."
He went. Then disappeared. Whenever she alighted at a refreshment-room she saw him watching her from a distance. In due course they arrived at Mentone.
II.
One day, as I was receiving my patients in my study, I saw a tall man enter. "Doctor," he said, "I come to ask news of the Countess Marie Baranow."
"She is beyond hope," I replied. "She will never return to Russia."
And this man fell to sobbing; then he arose, and went out staggering like a drunken man. That same evening I told the Countess that a stranger had been to me to ask after her health. She seemed touched, and told me the tale I have just told you. She added—
"This man, whom I do not know, follows me like my shadow. I meet him every time I go out. He looks at me very strangely, but he has never spoken to me."
She reflected, and then added—
"Look, there he is, below my window!" She rose from her sofa, drew the curtains aside, and showed me the man who had called upon me, sitting on a bench on the promenade, his eyes raised to the hotel. He saw us, rose and walked away without once turning his head. So it was that I took part in a strange and incomprehensible episode; in the love of these two beings who were quite unknown to one another.
He loved with the devotion of a rescued animal, grateful and devoted until death. He came every day to ask me, "How is she?" knowing that I had guessed. And
