The Portland daily press., 1898-05-04

neither could he afford to keep a snug
| house down in LudwinoW, Wnere he
| spends the winter and is regarded az
| highly respectable membsr OF the Mlr'
| de is an assassin, them"
Sonia smiled, and shrugged her shout
ders.
We were approaching a small village
with back ground of high pine tTees
situated on the edge of the great treeiess
| PLAIN. Its name was Sokoln1, she Joiu mt.
Once, in the days of serfdom, it had peen
the property Of o landowner, but now en-
| Joylng liberty, its emancipation was AT
| tested by its haif-ruined huts, whose hulg'
ing walls and smoke-biackened uimbers
were supported by wooden props. Ihere
We're not more than thirty houses, all OF
| similarly squalid miserable character,
ana as we entered the tiny place the COCKS
We're growing in the yards, for the sun
was by this time fully risen.
| rive miles through yonder forest as the
crow lilies brings us into German terri
tory" she said. indicating the dense
wood behind the houses, then pausine
| before the door of one of the tumble. dow Il
huts, pushed it open, and invited me tc
enter
| The interior was one square room, with
huge brick stove, the fiat top of which
| served as bed in winter, q low slopinG
| ceiling and two small windows with I'M
| even panes of greenlsh grass that impart-
| ell to the rays of light melancholy grey
| ish tint. The bare miserable place was
| poorly furnished with wooden chairs, q
ricketty table, and q very old moth eaten
| sofa covered with velvet that was once
| red, but now of faded brown. Over the
door was nailed cheap, gaudy ikon, and
on the opposite wall was pasted crude
woodcut OF his Majesty, the Gar.
The room was, indeed, in strange con-
trast to the dainty little drawing.ro in
Pembroke road
While threw myself into a choir worn
out by fatigue, she removed the ugly
wrapper from her head, and disappearino
into little inner den, the only other
room In the house, soon reappeared with
steamlng samovar, afterwards handin g
me tea with lemon
The pale yellow sun struggling in
through the green panes, fell in slantine
rays across the carpetless room, and as
we sat opposite one another slipping our
cups we looked at each other curiouslv.
Ours had. indeed, been strange meet
ing.
She burst out laughing at last.
"Well,' she said, II see you are SUR
prised.'
81 IN did not expect you had
changed your life in London for this,' l
exclaimed.
All! l was horribly tired of inactivity
there. I had spent all my money, and
could do nothing in your country. 1t is
a drawback to be too we'll KNOWN she
laughed.
''But surely this life is attended by very
serious risks, | observed, noticing, as
the sunlight fell across her hair, that
she was still as handsome as ever. not
withstanding her ugly peasant costume
and clumsy boots.
YES" she answered refectively. "Per-
haps, in a little while, when have made
more money l shall leave here and return
to London. One cannot live without
money!
"True, 1 answered "Yet life here
must be terribly dull and monotonous
after Vienna and Paris.
.'Ahl'' she cried, with the slightest sus-
picion of sigh. CAN that I have forgot.
ten long, long ago..
Her eyes were downcast. and Thought
] detacted tears in them. gazed at her,
this woman who was known in nearly
every capital in Europe as one OF the
most daring and enterprising adventur-
esses of the century, half-iearing that she
might still refuse to disclose her secret.
Go be Continued