she knew he could not be the officer she meant, and she regretted deeply having compromised her secret by letting a hare-brained fellow like Tomski share it.
Hermann was the son of a German, who had settled in Russia and had left him a small patrimony. Determined to be independent, Hermann had made it a point never to touch his income, and so he lived on his pay and never allowed himself the slightest luxury. He was reserved and ambitious, his reticence rarely giving his comrades a chance to make fun of him. Under an assumed calmness, he hid violent passions and a vivid imagination, but he was always master of himself and had avoided, so far, the erring ways of the average youth. A born gambler, he never touched a card, because he knew that in his position he could not risk losing his small inheritance for a possible gain at play; and still he would sit at the gaming tables, night after night, watching the rapid changes of the game with a feverish anxiety.
The queer story of the Count de St. Germain's three winning cards had left a deep impression on his mind, and he thought of it all night long. "If only," he kept saying to himself while walking through the streets of St. Petersburg the following night, "the old lady could be
