other park in any other city. But from nine to ten Wanda had the alleys
mostly to herself.

The early autumn had already laid its touch upon the trees, and the
leaves were brown. The flowers, laboriously tended all through the
brief, uncertain summer, had that forlorn look which makes autumn in
Northern latitudes a period of damp depression. Wanda had gone out
early, and was sitting at the sunny side of the broad alley that divides
the gardens in two from end to end. She was waiting for Martin, who had
been called back at the door of the palace and had promised to follow
in a few minutes. He had a hundred engagements during the day, a hundred
friends among those unfortunate scions of noble houses who will not wear
the Russian uniform, who cannot by the laws of their caste engage in
any form of commerce, and must not accept a government office--who are
therefore idle, without the natural Southern sloth that enables Italians
and Spaniards to do nothing gracefully all day long. Wanda was wiser
than Martin. Girls generally are infinitely wiser than young men. But
the wisdom ceases to grow later in life, and old men are wiser than old
women. Wanda was, in a sense, Martin's adviser, mentor, and friend. She
had, as he himself acknowledged, already saved him from dangers into
which his natural heedlessness and impetuosity would have led him. As
to the discontent in which all Poland was steeped, which led the princes
and their friends into many perils, Wanda had been brought up to it,
just as some families are brought up to consumption and the anticipation
of an early death.

In her eminently practical, feminine way of looking at things, Wanda was
much more afraid of Martin running into debt than into danger. Debt and
impecuniosity would be so inconvenient at this time, when her father
daily needed some new comfort, and daily depended for his happiness more