Poor Vjera's face flushed suddenly, and her grip tightened upon the straw
handle and she refused to let it go.

"No, you shall never do that again," she said, quickly, trying to draw
back from him.

"And why not? Why should I not do you a service?"

"The other day you took it--the people stared at you--they never stare at
me, for I am only a poor girl--"

"And what are the people or what is their staring to me?" asked the Count,
quietly. "I am not afraid of being taken for a servant or a porter,
because I carry a lady's parcel. Pray give me the basket."

"Oh no, pray let it be," cried Vjera, in great earnest. "I cannot bear to
see you with such a thing in your hand."

They were still standing before the picture-dealer's window, while many
people passed along the pavement. In trying to draw away, Vjera found
herself suddenly in the stream, and just then a broad-shouldered officer
who chanced to be looking the other way came into collision with her, so
roughly that she was forced almost into the Count's arms. The latter made
a step forward.

"Is it your habit to jostle ladies in that way?" he asked in a sharp tone,
addressing the stout lieutenant.

The latter muttered something which might be taken for an apology and