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“These are Mademoiselle Helga’s animals, your honour.”

I had noticed before that all about her spoke of her either as mademoiselle or Mademoiselle Helga, and never used any surname.

“They are two good horses and in magnificent condition.”

“I am responsible for the stables, your honour,” he said with a pleased smile at the remark.

“How far is Brabinsk?” I asked him next.

“Twenty versts by the road the carriage will take—about twenty-six by this road, your honour; but the horses could do twice the distance easily.”

“So far is it? I did not know.”

We rode on in silence, and I noticed him directing curious sidelong glances at me now and then, until at last he said—

“Your honour’s pardon, but your honour is not Russian?”

I had been speaking Russian, and this had betrayed me.

“No, I am an American,” I answered with a laugh.

“Then your honour has crossed the sea. I have never seen the sea. I have heard of America. And so you have political troubles there, too?”

“Yes. We call them Tammany there.”