It was the fastidiousness of a gentleman, which never deserted him.

Now Zara recognized the old traveling rug hung on two easels, to hide the little iron beds where he and Mirko slept.

The new wonder, which would be bound to sell, was begun there on a third easel.

It did not look extremely promising at its present stage.

Mirko's violin and his father's, in their cases, were on a chair beside a small pile of music; the water-jug had in it a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums probably bought off a barrow.
The Countess Shulski had been through many vicissitudes with these two since her husband's death, but seldom--only once perhaps--had they gone down to such poverty-stricken surroundings.