The lady never glanced at him. She swept from the room, her stately
graceful movements delighting his eye. He could understand and
appreciate movement--was he not accustomed to thoroughbreds, and able
to judge of their action and line?

How blank the space seemed when she had gone--dull and unspeakably
uninteresting. He became impatient with the slowness of the waiters,
who had seemed to hurry unnecessarily the night before. But at last
his meal ended, and he went out under the trees. The sky was so full
of stars it hardly seemed dark. The air was soft, and in the distance
a band played a plaintive valse tune.

There were numbers of people walking about, and the lights from the
hotel windows lit up the scene. Only the ivy terrace was in shadow as
he again sat down on the bench.

How had she got in last night? That he must find out--he rose, and
peered about him. Yes, there was a little gate, a flight of steps, a
private entrance into this suite, just round the corner.

And as he looked at it, the lady, wrapped in a scarf of black gauze,
passed him, and standing aside while the silver-haired servant opened
the little door with a key, she then entered and disappeared from
view.

It seemed as if the stars danced to Paul. His whole being was
quivering with excitement, and now he sat on the bench again almost
trembling.

He did not move for at least half an hour; then the clocks chimed in