"'I will write you everything without reserve, just as it occurred. When Ödön received your letter calling him home, he dropped everything and hastened to set out. I resolved to accompany him as far as the border, but would that I had not! Then he would have stopped over at Smolensk, and would not have been overtaken by a snow-storm; we should not have been chased by wolves and compelled to save our lives by skating for two hours down the Dnieper. "'Your son Ödön, my dear madam, is a son to be proud of. When one of my skates came off in the course of our headlong flight, and I was left helpless by the accident, he turned, single-handed, against our pursuers, and, with dagger and pistols, warded them off while I buckled on my skate again. He killed four of the pack, and I owe it to him that I am now alive.'" This praise of her son brought a flush of pride to the mother's cheek; but she saw that the maiden's colour left her face entirely as she read on, and that her agitation nearly made her drop the letter. The girl's love was not that of the Spartan mother, and the heroic deed of daring dismayed her while it delighted the other. "'Then we resumed our flight, and it was a race for life, with a pack of two hundred wolves at our heels.'" "Heavens!" exclaimed the mother, herself now greatly alarmed. Aranka read on with halting accents. "'We were nearing a place of refuge,--a military guard-house,--when we came to a dangerous spot, where some fishermen had cut a hole in the ice. Not noticing the place, as it was frozen over with a thin sheet of ice, we broke through and sank.'" "Merciful God!" cried the baroness, losing her self-control. Aranka sank back in a faint and was with difficulty restored to consciousness by the ministrations of her companion. At length the two, holding the letter before them both, read on in silence. "My amulet saved my life. It was a parting gift from my mother, and I had tried to induce my friend to wear it, but he would not. 'My stars are my protection,' said he, and confessed that his stars were loving women's eyes. When we had been rescued from our cold bath by the fishermen, I remained constantly by Ödön's side until he was able to answer my question, 'Do your stars still shine upon you?' 'All four of them,' said he." At this each of the readers felt the electric thrill that ran through the other. "Ödön was taken with a fever as a result of this mishap, but he is now happily over the worst of it. I am at his side night and day. This morning he was determined to write a letter, but it was too much for him, as you see. I was obliged to take the pen and write for him. He is entirely out of danger, and in two weeks we shall resume our journey. Until then I beg Ödön's stars not to weep on his account; for under Russian skies star-tears turn to snow, and of snow we have already more than enough. "LEONIN RAMIROFF."