Just then from behind the screen came a trembling, imploring voice, with the prayer,-- "I have thought it over, sir. In our house there is poverty; but still--I--cannot! If you would be kind and take the head--for three francs, or even for two--if you would have the kindness." And these words came with sobbing. Svirski turned toward the screen, dropped his brush, and opened his mouth. Unparalleled astonishment seized him, for the model was speaking in his own native tongue. "Is the lady a Pole?" asked he at last, forgetting that a moment before he had said _thou_ to her. "Yes, sir. That is, my father was an Italian, but my grandfather is a Pole." A moment of silence ensued. Svirski recovered, and said,-- "Arrange your dress; I will take only your head." But evidently she had not begun to undress, for she came from behind the screen at once, confused, full of fear yet, and with traces of tears on her cheeks. "I thank you," said she. "You are--I beg your pardon; but--" "Be at rest," said Svirski. "Here is the chair; have no fear. You will pose for your head; I had no wish to offend you. You see that picture. I wanted a model for this figure here. But since it is so painful to you, the question is changed, especially as you are a Pole." Tears began to flow over her cheeks again; but she looked at him through her blue eyes with gratitude; he found a bottle of wine, poured out half a glass, and, giving it to her, said,-- "Drink this. I have biscuits here somewhere, but deuce knows where they are. I ask you to drink. There, it is all right. Your hand trembles; but there is no danger here--I beg you to be calm." And saying this he looked at her with the sympathy of his honest eyes, and said after a while,-- "Poor child!" Then he stepped aside, and put the easel in its old place, saying while he did so,-- "There is no posing to-day. You are too much excited. To-morrow, we will begin work early; to-day, we will talk a little. Who could guess that Maria Cervi was a Pole! Your grandfather is a Pole then, is he not? Is he alive?" "Yes; but he has not walked for the last two years." "What is his name?" "Orysevich," answered she, speaking somewhat with a foreign accent. "I know that name. Has he been long in this country?" "Grandfather has been sixty-five years out of Poland. First, he was in the Italian army, and then in the bank of Nice." "How old is he?" "Nearly ninety." "Your father's name was Cervi?" "Yes. My father was from Nice; but he served also in the Italian army." "Then he is dead?" "Five years." "And your mother is alive?" "She is. We live together in Old Nice." "Very well. But now one more question. Does your mother know that you want to become a model?" To this the girl answered in a hesitating voice, "No, mamma does not know. Pani Lageat told me that in this way I could earn five francs a day; and as there is poverty in our house,--very great poverty,--I had no other way."