vacant; those who had come late were in the bedroom, making shift with
whatever offered. Two girls and a young man, having pushed back the
feather-bed, sat on the edge of the low wooden bedstead, with their
arms interlaced to give them a better balance. Maurice found Madeleine
on a rickety little sofa that stood at the foot of the bed. Dove sat
on a chest of drawers next the sofa, his long legs dangling in the
air. Beside Madeleine, with his head on her shoulder, was Krafft.

"Oh, there you are," cried Madeleine. "Well, I did my best to keep the
place for you; but it was of no use, as you see. Just sit down,
however. Between us, we'll squeeze him properly."

Maurice was glad that the room, which was lighted only by one small
lamp, was in semi-darkness; for, at the sound of his own voice, it
suddenly became clear to him that the piece of gossip Frau Furst had
volunteered, had been of the nature of a blow. Schilsky's departure
threatened, in a way he postponed for the present thinking out, to
disturb his life; and, in an abrupt need of sympathy, he laid his hand
on Krafft's knee.

"Is it you, old man? What have you been doing with yourself?"

Krafft gave him one of those looks which, in the early days of
their acquaintance, had proved so disconcerting--a look of struggling
recollection.

"Oh, nothing in particular," he replied, without hostility, but also
without warmth. His mind was not with his words, and Maurice withdrew
his hand.