' A strange man!' thought Litvinov, as he turned into the hotel where he was staying; 'a strange man! I must see more of him!' He went into his room; a letter on the table caught his eye. 'Ah! from Tanya!' he thought, and was overjoyed at once; but the letter was from his country place, from his father. Litvinov broke the thick heraldic seal, and was just setting to work to read it . . . when he was struck by a strong, very agreeable, and familiar fragrance, and saw in the window a great bunch of fresh heliotrope in a glass of water. Litvinov bent over them not without amazement, touched them, and smelt them. . . . Something seemed to stir in his memory, something very remote . . . but what, precisely, he could not discover. He rang for the servant and asked him where these flowers had come from. The man replied that they had been brought by a lady who would not give her name, but said that 'Herr Zlitenhov' would be sure to guess who she was by the