rubbed his hands together, and
produced a smile of satisfaction; but it was such a smile as a totally
ruined man would perhaps force on his lips, or a man condemned to a short
shrift by his doctor. I begged him to make himself at home and said that
I would go at once and hunt up the woman of the house who would make him
up a bed on the big couch there. He hardly listened to what I said.
What were all those things to him! He knew that his destiny was to sleep
on a bed of thorns, to feed on adders. But he tried to show a sort of
polite interest. He asked: "What is this place?"

"It used to belong to a painter," I mumbled.

"Ah, your absent friend," he said, making a wry mouth. "I detest all
those artists, and all those writers, and all politicos who are thieves;
and I would go even farther and higher, laying a curse on all idle lovers
of women. You think perhaps I am a Royalist? No. If there was anybody
in heaven or hell to pray to I would pray for a revolution--a red
revolution everywhere."

"You astonish me," I said, just to say something.

"No! But there are half a dozen people in the world with whom I would
like to settle accounts. One could shoot them like partridges and no
questions asked. That's what revolution would mean to me."

"It's a beautifully simple view," I said. "I imagine you are not the
only one who holds it; but I really must look after your comforts. You
mustn't forget that we have to see Baron H. early to-morrow morning."
And I went out quietly into the passage wondering in what part of the
house Therese had elected to sleep that night. But, lo and behold, when
I got to the foot of the stairs there was Therese coming down from the
upper regions in her nightgown, like a sleep-walker. However, it wasn't
that, because, before I could exclaim, she vanished off the first floor
landing like a streak of white mist and without the slightest sound. Her
attire made it perfectly clear that she could not have heard us coming
in. In fact, she must have been certain that the house was empty,
because she was as well aware as myself that the Italian girls after
their work at the opera were going to a masked ball to dance for their
own amusement, attended of course by their conscientious father. But
what thought, need, or sudden impulse had driven Therese out of bed like
this was something I couldn't conceive.

I didn't call out after her. I felt sure that she would return. I went
up slowl