We went to walk together, taking Mathilde to guard us. As usual on the Nevsky, we met Circassians, Georgians, Turks, Persians, and Cossacks,—every nationality under the sun. Some of the church-bells were ringing, and at the sound the istvostchiks took off their hats and crossed themselves devoutly. We had not gone many yards before Judith turned to me with a laugh, saying,—
"Did you think I was a little insane last night, my dear?"
"Not exactly," I answered. "I have seen the matter coming to this point for some time."
"Have you?" (opening her eyes in surprise). "I did not suppose you had the remotest idea of it."
"Why, Judith, you know I thought long ago that he cared for you!"
She looked puzzled, and then amused.
"O Dorris," she said, "I really believe there has been a misunderstanding. You surely did not think—did you think I meant George?" turning a laughing face eagerly upon me.
"Of course," I responded, with a catch in my breath. "Who else could it be?"
"It is not George," Judith said, walking on quietly. "It is some one whom you have never seen—"
"Ah!" I interrupted, stopping in the middle of the street at the risk of being run over, and staring at my cousin. "It is—"
She took me by the arm and pulled me across the street. "How reckless you are!"
