“Hush! Here are Baden and Karl,” replied Helen, thankful for the interruption. All was bustle in a moment, and taking leave of them with an air of reluctance, the Pole walked away, leaving Amy looking after him wistfully, quite unconscious that she stood in everybody’s way, and that her uncle was beckoning impatiently from the carriage door. “Poor boy! I wish he had some one to take care of him,” she sighed, half aloud. “Mademoiselle, the major waits;” and Karl came up, hat in hand, just in time to hear her and glance after Casimer, with an odd expression. * * * * * V. LUDMILLA. “I WONDER what that young man’s name was. Did he mention it, Helen?” said the major, pausing in his march up and down the room, as if the question was suggested by the sight of the little baskets, which the girls had kept. “No, uncle; but you can easily ask Hoffman,” replied Helen. “By the way, Karl, who was the Polish gentleman who came on with us?” asked the major a moment afterward, as the courier came in with newspapers. “Casimer Teblinski, sir.” “A baron?” asked Amy, who was decidedly a young lady of one idea just then. “No, mademoiselle, but of a noble family, as the ‘ski’ denotes, for that is to Polish and Russian names what ‘von’ is to German and ‘de’ to French.” “I was rather interested in him. Where did you pick him up, Hoffman?” said the major. “In Paris, where he was with fellow-exiles.” “He is what he seems, is he?—no impostor, or anything of that sort? One is often deceived, you know.” “On my honor, sir, he is a gentleman, and as brave as he is accomplished and excellent.” “Will he die?” asked Amy, pathetically. “With care he would recover, I think; but there is no one to nurse him, so the poor lad must take his chance and trust in heaven for help.” “How sad! I wish we were going his way, so that we might do something for him—at least give him the society of his friend.” Helen glanced at Hoffman, feeling that if he were not already engaged by them, he would devote himself to the invalid without any thought of payment. “Perhaps we are. You want to see the Lake of Geneva, Chillon, and that neighborhood. Why not go now, instead of later?” “Will you, uncle? That’s capital! We need say nothing, but go on and help the poor boy, if we can.” Helen spoke like a matron of forty, and looked as full of maternal kindness as if the Pole were not out of his teens. The courier bowed, the major laughed behind his paper, and Amy gave a sentimental sigh to the memory of the baron, in whom her interest was failing. They only caught a glimpse of the Pole that evening at the Kursaal, but next morning they met, and he was invited to join their party for a little expedition.