“I wonder what that young man’s name was. Did he mention it, Helen?” said the major, pausing in his march up and down the room, as if the question was suggested by the sight of the little baskets, which the girls had kept.
“No, uncle; but you can easily ask Hoffman,” replied Helen.
“By the way, Karl, who was the Polish gentleman who came on with us?” asked the major a moment afterward, as the courier came in with newspapers.
“Casimer Teblinski, sir.”
“A baron?” asked Amy, who was decidedly a young lady of one idea just then.
“No, mademoiselle, but of a noble family, as the ‘ski’ denotes, for that is to Polish and Russian names what ‘von’ is to German and ‘de’ to French.”
“I was rather interested in him. Where did you pick him up, Hoffman?” said the major.
“In Paris, where he was with fellow-exiles.”
“He is what he seems, is he?—no impostor, or anything of that sort? One is often deceived, you know.”
“On my honor, sir, he is a gentleman, and as brave as he is accomplished and excellent.”