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Kallash with extreme politeness assisted her to a seat. "You didn't expect to meet me, Natasha?" said the old woman gently and almost caressingly, approaching her. "I do not know you. Who are you?" the baroness managed to whisper, by a supreme effort. "No wonder; I am so changed," replied Princess Anna. "But YOU are just the same. There is hardly any change at all."
That morning he received a note from Kovroff, in which the worthy Sergei complained of ill health and begged the prince to come and dine with him and cheer him up. The prince complied with his request, and appearing at the appointed time found Count Kallash alone with his host.
"Oh, heaven, it is she!" she cried, her eyes fixed on a page of the photograph album she had been dusting. "Brother, come here; for heaven's sake, who is this?" "Baroness von Döring," curtly answered Kallash, glancing quickly at the photograph. "What do you find interesting in her?" "It is either she or her double! Do you know who she looks like?" "Lord only knows! Herself, perhaps!"
She almost never won on the green cloth; sometimes Kovroff won, sometimes Kallash, sometimes Karozitch, but with the slight difference that the last won more seldom and less than the other two. Thus every Wednesday a considerable sum found its way from the pocketbook of the baroness into that of one of her colleagues, to find its way back again the next morning.
Then he made his way to Buda-Pesth, then to Vienna. While in the dual monarchy, he had come across a poverty-stricken Magyar noble, named Kallash, whom he had sheltered in a fit of generous pity, and who had died in his room at the Golden Eagle Inn.
Among other gossip, the prince announced that he expected shortly to go to Switzerland, as he had bad reports of the health of his mother, who was in Geneva. At this news Kallash glanced significantly toward Kovroff. Passing from topic to topic, the conversation finally turned to the financial position of Russia.
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