The stockbroker, who was really, and even passionately in love with her,
got close to her in the Exhibition buildings, which he could do all the
more easily, since the little woman's husband had taken to flight,
foreseeing mischief, as soon as she went up to the show-case of a
Russian fur dealer, before which she remained standing in rapture.

"Do look at that lovely fur," the baroness said, while her dark eyes
expressed her pleasure; "I must have it."

But she looked at the white ticket on which the price was marked.

"Four thousand roubles," she said in despair; "that is about six
thousand florins."

"Certainly," he replied, "but what of that? It is a sum not worth
mentioning in the presence of such a charming lady."

"But my husband is not in a position ..."

"Be less cruel than usual for once," the man from the _Ghetto_ said to
the young woman in a low voice, "and allow me to lay this sable skin at
your feet."

"I presume that you are joking."

"Not I ..."

"I think you must be joking, as I cannot think that you intend to insult
me."