whom he had seen in the garden between dawn and sunrise. For in my
arms now there is just a very pretty girl who is not over-careful in
her dealings with young men, thought Jurgen, as their lips met.
Well, all life is a compromise; and a pretty girl is something
tangible, at any rate. So he laughed, triumphantly, and prepared for
the sequel.

But as Jurgen laughed triumphantly, with his arm beneath the head of
Dorothy, and with the tender face of Dorothy passive beneath his lips,
and with unreasonable wistfulness in his heart, the castle bell tolled
midnight. What followed was curious: for as Wednesday passed, the face
of Dorothy altered, her flesh roughened under his touch, and her cheeks
fell away, and fine lines came about her eyes, and she became the
Countess Dorothy whom Jurgen remembered as Heitman Michael's wife.
There was no doubt about it, in that be-drenching moonlight: and she
was leering at him, and he was touching her everywhere, this horrible
lascivious woman, who was certainly quite old enough to know better
than to permit such liberties. And her breath was sour and nauseous.
Jurgen drew away from her, with a shiver of loathing, and he closed his
eyes, to shut away that sensual face.

"No," he said; "it would not be fair to what we owe to others. In
fact, it would be a very heinous sin. We should weigh such
considerations occasionally, madame."

Then Jurgen left his temptress, with simple dignity. "I go to search
for my dear wife, madame, in a frame of mind which I would strongly
advise you to adopt toward your husband."

And he went straightway down the terraces of Bellegarde, and turned