The Cossack was silent, and his bright eyes looked pityingly at his companion.
"And you have begun to put together your parcels for the journey, I see," he observed after a time, when the Count had got his morsel of food and was beginning to eat it.

His curiosity gave him no rest.
"Yes," answered the Count, mysteriously.

"That is something which I shall probably take with me, as a remembrance of Munich." "I should not have thought that you needed anything more than a cigarette to remind you of the place," remarked Dumnoff.
The Count smiled faintly, for, considering Dumnoff's natural dulness, the remark had a savour of wit in it.
"That is true," he said.

"But there are other things which could remind me even more forcibly of my exile." "Well, what is it?
Tell us!" cried Dumnoff, impatiently enough, but somewhat softened by the Count's appreciation of his humour.

At the same time he put out his broad red hand in the direction of the parcel as though he would see for himself.
"Let it be!" said Schmidt sharply, and Dumnoff withdrew his hand again.