He noticed most things--this dull German.

Presently she passed him again.

She dropped her umbrella, and before picking it up described a circle with it--a manoeuvre remarkably like a signal.

Then she turned abruptly and looked into his face, displaying a pleasing little round physiognomy with a smiling mouth and exaggeratedly grave eyes.

It was a face of all too common a type in these days of cheap educational literature--the face of a womanly woman engaged in unwomanly work.
Then she came back.
Steinmetz raised his hat in his most fatherly way.
"My dear young lady," he said in Russian, "if my personal appearance has made so profound an impression as my vanity prompts me to believe, would it not be decorous of you to conceal your feelings beneath a maiden modesty?
If, on the other hand, the signals you have been making to me are of profound political importance, let me assure you that I am no Nihilist." "Then," said the girl, beginning to walk by his side, "what are you ?" "What you see--a stout middle-aged man in easy circumstances, happily placed in social obscurity.