_August 10, 1915._
Lately, our conversation at table has been suppressed by the appearance
of a young woman whom the rest suspect of being a spy. She is dark, and
never utters a word. All through dinner she keeps her eyes on her
plate. I said something in French to her the other day, but, apparently,
she did not understand. Across the table, the Morowski boys laughed at
me. I suspect that they, too, had tried to speak to her, for she is
pretty, and had been snubbed like me. I don't know how the idea of her
being a spy got round. She may have been sent here to keep her eyes on
the Polish refugees in the _pension_. Her room is in our corridor, and
this morning Marie saw, through the open door, Panna Lolla and Janchu
talking to her. It appears that Janchu had been inveigled in by bonbons,
and Panna Lolla had gone in after him. Panna Lolla said the young woman
was so lonely. She is a Pole and wants to leave Russia. She hates it
here. But she has no passport. She showed Panna Lolla an old one that
she wants to fix up for the police authorities. But she can't speak
Russian, and is very frightened. She asked Panna Lolla if she knew any
one who could write Russian. Marie forbade Panna Lolla to go near the
woman again. It is just as well, for Panna Lolla likes excitement, and
is capable of saying anything to keep it going.