"Now for it," he muttered, as if preparing for some new surprise or attack.
"When uncle used to talk about the Polish revolution, there was, I remember a gallant young Pole who did something brave. The name just flashed on me, and it clears up my doubts. Stanislas Prakora—'S.P.'—and Casimer is the man."
Helen spoke with an eager, bright face, as if sure of the truth now; but, to her surprise, Hoffman laughed, a short, irrepressible laugh, full of hearty but brief merriment. He sobered in a breath, and with an entire change of countenance said, in an embarrassed tone,—
"Pardon my rudeness; mademoiselle's acuteness threw me off my guard.
I can say nothing till released from my promise; but mademoiselle may
rest assured that Casimer Teblinski is as good and brave a man as
Stanislas Prakora."
Helen's eyes sparkled, for in this reluctant reply she read confirmation of her suspicion, and thought that Amy would rejoice to learn that her lover was a hero.
"You are exiles, but still hope and plot, and never relinquish your hearts' desire?"
"Never, mademoiselle!"
"You are in danger?"
"In daily peril of losing all we most love and long for," answered Karl, with such passion that Helen found patriotism a lovely and inspiring thing.
"You have enemies?" she asked, unable to control her interest, and feeling the charm of these confidences.