"Oh, dear, no! I'm not a bit curious," said I, and began looking about for my hat and stick.
"But I wish you to know," she cried indignantly, barring my way, and, seizing my hand, she led me to the door of the bedroom, and hastily flung it open. In the room a blonde young lady stood before me gazing at me with wondering large blue eyes.
Bessy introduced this lady to me.
"Madame Wenceslaus Kvatopil, from Cracow."
Then she pulled aside the bed-curtains, and on the bed was lying a little girl about eleven years of age.
"This is Wenceslaus Kvatopil's daughter. Poor things! let us leave them alone!"
For at least a minute I felt as if some magic power were whirling me round and round the globe with it from the North Pole to the Equator, and back again.
How I got out of that room into the other I really cannot say. Before me continually were the faces of that large-eyed, timid-looking woman and the little girl.
I heard the sound of weeping behind me.
It was Bessy. She had hidden her face in her hands, and was sobbing.