“One gentleman was a Russian,” she said.  “Fancy coming all the way, from Russia to this little out-of-the-world place!  But people come from the uttermost ends of the earth, though of course there are many Londoners here.  I suppose you are from London?”

“I am not living in London now,” said Bernardine cautiously.

“But you know it, without doubt,” continued Mrs. Reffold.  “There are several Kensington people here.  You may meet some friends:  indeed in our hotel there are two or three families from Lexham Gardens.”

Bernardine smiled a little viciously; looked first at Mrs. Reffold’s two companions with an amused sort of indulgence, and then at the lady herself She paused a moment, and then said: 

“Have you asked all the questions you wish to ask?  And, if so, may I ask one of you.  Where does one get the best tea?”

Mrs. Reffold gave an inward gasp, but pointed gracefully to a small confectionery shop on the other side of the road.  Mrs. Reffold did everything gracefully.

Bernardine thanked her, crossed the road, and passed into the shop.

“Now I have taught her a lesson not to interfere with me,” said Bernardine to herself.  “How beautiful she is.”

Mrs. Reffold and her two companions went silently on their way.  At last the silence was broken.

“Well, I’m blessed!” said the taller of the two, lighting a cigar.

“So am I,” said the other, lighting his cigar too.

“Those are precisely my own feelings,” remarked Mrs. Reffold.

But she had learnt her lesson.

CHAPTER IV.

Concerning WAeRLI and Marie.

WAeRLI, the little hunchback postman, a cheery soul, came whistling up the Kurhaus stairs, carrying with him that precious parcel of registered letters, which gave him the position of being the most important person in Petershof.  He was a linguist, too, was Waerli, and could speak broken English in a most fascinating way, agreeable to every one, but intelligible only to himself.  Well, he came whistling up the stairs when he heard Marie’s blithe voice humming her favourite spinning-song.

“Ei, Ei!” he said to himself; “Marie is in a good temper to-day.  I will give her a call as I pass.”

He arranged his neckerchief and smoothed his curls; and when he reached the end of the landing, he paused outside a little glass-door, and, all unobserved, watched Marie in her pantry cleaning the candlesticks and lamps.

Marie heard a knock, and, looking up from her work, saw Waerli.

“Good day, Waerli,” she said, glancing hurriedly at a tiny broken mirror suspended on the wall.  “I suppose you have a letter for me.  How delightful!”

“Never mind about the letter just now,” he said, waving his hand as though wishing to dismiss the subject.  “How nice to hear you singing so sweetly, Marie!  Dear me, in the old days at Gruesch, how often I have heard that song of the spinning-wheels.  You have forgotten the old days, Marie, though you remember the song.”