Louise broke into a merry laugh. "Not know his mamma? Indeed! We shall see!" Going to a table, she rang a bell, which was immediately answered by a liveried servant. "Bring me my Loris," she cried. "He has already been put to bed," answered the man. "Bring him, anyhow. I have not seen him for almost nine days." The man disappeared, and shortly after a nurse entered, bearing in her arms a bright little fellow scarcely four years of age. Loris, the tyrant of the house, who was fast being spoiled by the alternate indulgence and neglect of his capricious mother, struggled violently with his nurse, who had just aroused him from his first sleep. Louise threw herself upon the child in an excess of maternal devotion. She fairly covered him with kisses. "How has my Loris been? My poor boy! Will he forgive his mamma for having deserted him?" The boy resented this outburst of love by sundry kicks and screams. "The child is cross and sleepy," said the Count; "let Minka put him to bed." "Wait a moment," exclaimed the Countess, in childish glee. "I have brought him a present. Loris, my pet, how would you like a little boy to play with? A real live boy?" Loris ceased his struggles and became interested. "I want a pony to play with! I don't want a boy," he cried, peevishly. "What folly have you been guilty of now?" asked Dimitri, with some misgivings, for he had had frequent proofs of his wife's impulsive extravagance. "You shall see, my dear." Louise rang for Ivan. When he appeared, she asked: "What have you done with the boy we found?" "He is in the kitchen and has just eaten his supper," answered the servant. "Bring him up at once." While Ivan went to fetch Jacob, the Countess related, with many embellishments and exaggerations, and with frequent appeals to her maid Tekla for corroboration, how she had found the boy on the road, how she had saved his life, and, finally, how she had decided to bring him home as a little playmate for her darling Loris. Before she had finished her story Jacob himself appeared upon the scene, the personification of abject misery. His features were still besmeared with the dirt of the highway, his clothes were in a wretched condition, and his bandaged arm and lacerated face did not improve his general appearance. Louise laughed heartily when this apparition entered the door. "Is he not a beauty?" she exclaimed. The Count was too much surprised to speak. After a pause, during which poor Jacob looked pleadingly from one to the other, Dimitri asked: "In all seriousness, Louise, why did you introduce that being into our house?" "He is not as bad as he looks," answered the Countess. "Wait till he is washed and dressed, and you will agree that he is a handsome fellow." The Count crossed the room and looked at the boy. "What is your name?" he asked, gruffly. "Jacob Winenki," answered the child, timidly.