close behind them. It is my prince, who has
already arrived. He puts his gay, handsome
head out of the window of his gay, handsome
travelling-carriage, and calls cheerily to the
cook, in such terms of affectionate banter as a
soft-hearted man, with a choice vocabulary of
pretty language, might use towards a beautiful
woman who had won his heart. The carriage
halts to take up the cook, who is loud in the
praises of his deliverer. A brief hearty
introduction then ensues. It is quite needless;
for my prince has instantly guessed that the
upright, soldierly, simply-dressed gentleman
could be no other than the new dupe he has
come into those parts expressly to deceive;
but, of course, the gallant major knows nothing
of all this. Accordingly, he is quite enchanted
with his splendid acquaintance. The prince
laughingly explains that the profuse display of
stars, crosses, and decorations which cover the
breast of his brilliant uniform are merely so
many travelling requisites, which add to the
comfort and convenience of a journey in Russia,
especially where custom-houses and city-gates
are concerned. But he himself seems to attach
no manner of importance to them, and speaks
about the means by which they are acquired,
and about Russian affairs generally, from his own
point of view, with a captivating absence of all
pride and reserve. The Crimea, and the events
particularly connected with the siege of Sebastopol,
supply a subject of conversation deeply
interesting to both officers; and they tell each
other several anecdotes of a new and remarkable
character, referring to that famous military
episode in the history of their respective countries.
Their friendship ripens so rapidly, and the
topics discussed are of so absorbing a nature,
that instead of walking directly towards the fair
widow's house, they find themselves, at the end
of half an hour, in front of the major's hotel.
The prince then declares ("ma foi!") he is too
tired to go any further; and the major, with
the genial hospitality almost universal among
Irishmen, offers to give up his rooms—as they
are the best in the house—to his new friend.
The prince will not hear of it. He is a soldier,
a rough Cossack, he adds, showing a set of very
fine teeth, regularly whitened by Rowland's
Odonto, or other fashionable nostrum. He is a
Tartar, an outer barbarian. Any cupboard or
closet will do to house him. He is accustomed
to sleep, wrapped only in his cloak, upon a sofa
or two chairs. He is only a little troubled
about his people; but Esperance will see to
them. Esperance is the Princess Ooleapeano
Zika, and Prince Dooyoumalsky explains that
he calls her by her christian name because
they are first-cousins. The Irish gentleman's
heart warms towards him in consequence.

While they are thus gossiping pleasantly,
the prince has taken possession of the major's
bedroom. He doffs his fine coat, throws it
carelessly on the ragged inn sofa, where the
diamond orders blaze sparkling against the
sunlight, and uses the major's dressing-case with all
the affectionate freedom of a brother-officer in
the same regiment. In plain truth, it probably
never occurs to either of them that they met for
the first time in their lives about an hour ago,
so completely can my prince identify himself
with any theatrical character it pleases him for
the time to perform. He sings with unconscious
propriety, as he brushes his hair, Schiller's fine
old German robber-song, Darum frisch Cameraden;
and, when he has done, crosses a chair,
and, leaning on the back of it like the jolly good
fellow he is, lights a cigarette, and goes in for
all sorts of merry confidences. There they sit;
the prince, who complains slightly of heat, keeping
always near the open window, apparently to
caricature the people in the street for the
major's amusement, but really with another
object, which it may be as well to explain at
once, to prevent misunderstandings.

Esperance, Princess of Ooleapeano Zika, is not
precisely cousin to my prince. She is cousin to
his wife, the extinct lady now ruminating far
away in the steppe village. Nevertheless, there
was for some years great cordiality between
them, till my prince—having secretly and without
her knowledge undertaken to obtain a Roman
countship for the first husband of that virtuous
lady—succeeded in extracting certain blank
signatures from him, which ultimately obliged
the unsuspecting gentleman to reside for a
considerable period in Clichy before he could get
quit of them. They were in Paris for their
wedding trip at the time, and Clichy was the French
prison for debt. In truth, the signatures which
the French tutor had been induced to believe
necessary to certain documents which the papal
court was alleged to require before issuing
to him a patent of nobility, had been neither
more nor less than certain bills of exchange for
large sums of money drawn in the Russian
language, ostensibly accepted by him at short dates.
This, indeed, had been the primary cause of the
separation which had led to the widow's first
divorce, she having then discovered, by the
frantic abuse of the concierge at the hotel
where they were residing, that she had been
married under a false name, and that her
husband, instead of being a political refugee of
the illustrious line of Rohan, as he had
represented himself, was no other than the son of a
snuffy old portress. Since this curious episode
in her domestic life, the Princess Ooleapeano
Zika had never heard from her brilliant relative
till a few days ago, when the soft-hearted lady
received a touching appeal from her cousin (my
prince's wife), imploring her to forgive and
receive my prince once more. The prince, who
wrote this letter himself, and has a shrewd
knowledge of the generous nature on which
he is playing, certainly hopes for the happiest
results; but he cannot be quite certain of
them. The mildest of ladies are sometimes
resentful when crossed in their love-affairs, and
a rebuff from his wealthy kinswoman might
now oblige him entirely to alter his tactics and
whole plan of campaign. This is why he sits
watching at the window. He is anxiously
awaiting the arrival of his handsome Circassian
attendant, whom he despatched yesterday for
an answer to the touching epistolary entreaty