"I did not know angels played on fiddles!" replied the girl, smiling. "However, I thank you for the compliment. It is fortunate that I play well, for when Luzk died, seven years ago, I had no one to look after me. I thought I should starve, as my name was proscribed, and no one dared to help the child of Poluski, the rebel. Then a French musician heard me playing in the streets of Warsaw--yes, you may look, Mr. Mexton, but I, Catinka Poluski, of the best blood in Poland, have played in the streets. This man--his name was Dubourg--heard me, and took me into his care. He was old, and a very fine player on the violin. I received lessons from him for many months, and then we went to Paris, where I appeared. I made a name, and so I was able to earn an income. I stayed in Paris for a long time. Then good Papa Dubourg died, and I no longer cared to remain. I came to London; I played; I was liked; and now, as you know, I can earn as much money as I want by my talent. It is not an ignoble profession," said Catinka, "and I do not think the dead Poluski race need be ashamed of their descendant." "I should think not, indeed, mademoiselle?" cried Paul. "You have overcome your difficulties in a noble manner. But this," he added, "does not touch on your society." "I am coming to that," said Catinka, with a nod; "but, as I told you, it was necessary for your understanding that I should begin from the beginning. Well, Mr. Mexton, when I found myself at ease in London, I determined to do what I could to aid my unhappy country to be free. As a child of the Poluski I was bound to revenge my parents and free Poland. Then in my brain there arose the idea of the Society of the Rainbow Feather." "Is the name symbolical?" asked Paul, glancing at the fan, which she still held. "Yes." Catinka spread out the fan before him. "This is made of feathers--a sign that we shall rise, since birds that fly wear plumage. The feathers are dyed red, blue, green and yellow, which are symbolic colours. Red for the war we must wage to free our land; blue is a sign of the peace which will follow the war; green, the colour of hope which we need to inspire us; and yellow for the wealth we require to further our plans." "I see," said Paul, coolly; "yellow stands for Darcy Herne, whose wealth you need." "Precisely," replied Catinka calmly. "You are very clever, my dear Mr. Mexton, to guess so well as that. Do you think I am in love with Mr. Herne?--by no means, sir! It is his money-bags I want. I have but one heart and that is for no man; the love which fills it is the love of Poland--of my crushed and fallen country. The saints grant that it may be my hand to raise it from the dust!" "Not an easy task," said Mexton, with a discouraging glance. "Great tasks are never easy," declared Catinka, with the fire of heroism in her eyes; "but do you not think I had better go on with my story?"