"Oh, that was yesterday, and I am very sorry if I annoyed you. But let bygones be bygones! I hope there is no ill-will between us?"
"Oh, none at all," returned the other indifferently. "I have the honour to wish you a very good evening." Without waiting for more, the Count bowed and left the shop.
"Akulina," said Fischelowitz, thoughtfully, as the door closed, "that man is a gentleman, say what you please."
"A pretty gentleman," laughed Akulina, putting the money into the till. "A gentleman indeed—why, look at his coat!"
"And you are a fool, Akulina," added Fischelowitz, handling his india-rubber stamp.
"Thank you; but for my foolery you would be fifty marks poorer to-night, Christian Gregorovitch. A gentleman, pah!"
The Count had drawn Vjera's willing arm through his, and they were walking slowly away together.
"I must be going home," she said, reluctantly. "The little sister will be crying for me. I cannot leave her any longer."
"Not till I have thanked you, dear," he answered, pressing her arm to his side. "But I will go with you to your door, and thank you all the way—though the way is far too short for all I have to say."
"I have done nothing—it has really cost me nothing." Vjera squeezed her limp parcel under her shawl, and felt that she was speaking the truth.