“Nothing.” “Nothing?” “Absolutely nothing, my dear girl. If Mr. Nugent preaches against me, my art, it is because texts are scarce and he wants to draw a crowd.” “But, my dear Ouida, his personal, direct attack on you--you owe it to yourself to speak.” “No, I shan’t help him advertise himself.” But even as she said it a cloud of vexation passed over her stately brow. “Then,” said Winters, appealingly, “nothing I can say will urge you to speak?” “No, Winters, don’t try to make me deviate from that silent course I have from the very beginning mapped out for myself.” “Well, then, I must go. But rest assured, our columns are yours at any time you desire to speak.” “Thanks! By the way, call at my box tonight at the opera. There will be a lot of fools in attendance, and I will need the exhilaration of a chat with one like you.” “Au revoir.” “Until tonight.” And as Olivia Winters departed, her heart was filled with sympathy for the big-souled, independent creature she had just left, and she felt for her a deeper love and affection than for any other woman breathing the breath of life. CHAPTER VIII. PAUL HEARS GOOD TIDINGS. The very day upon which the Winters woman called on Ouida, in her unsuccessful attempt to secure an interview, Paul Strogoff, the model, paid a visit to the office of Edward Salmon, the shrewd and wily lawyer. The young Russian gazed with awe on the great array of books and files, and wondered what could possibly have been the reason why any lawyer should have requested his presence. After a while he was ushered into the presence of Mr. Salmon, and stood rather fearingly waiting for what was coming. He was rather like a dog at bay. He had had such an amount of silent agony throughout his life, that he was in that passive frame of subjected mind, that he was ready for and could bear almost anything. “Take a seat, sir,” said Mr. Salmon. Paul dropped into the first chair, and still spoke not. “I am a lawyer, sir,” said Mr. Salmon. “So I saw by your letter head; but how does that concern me? I have no lawsuits.” “That may be true, but strange things come to us at times.” “True,” said Paul, growing somewhat restless, “why have you sent for me?” “Before I can entirely tell you, I must ask a few questions, to which I must have frank and truthful answers.” “Having nothing at stake,” said Paul, “I have no inducement to lie.” “You are a Russian by birth?” “I am.” “Your father abandoned you in this city years ago, returned to Russia, and you have not heard from him since?” Paul jumped up. “How do you know all this?” “Sit down and calm yourself,” soothingly said the man of law. “I mean you naught but good.” “Well, go on,” said the impatient fellow. “He returned to his native land in the hope of recovering his ancestral estates, and was grievously disappointed, tricked and hounded for years. At last he won the great battle, and died.