happy mood of
toleration, applauding whenever applause might be bestowed, generously
silent when anything tempted adverse criticism; and between the acts
they smoked and drank liqueurs in company with the good Montmartre
shopkeepers--the soldiers--the young clerks and the young girls who
formed the crowd in the lounge.

But all things end; the curtain fell on the last act of _Les Cloches de
Corneville_, and not without a pleasant, passing sigh, the four left the
theatre.

The boulevard teemed with life as they made their way into the open; a
certain intoxication seemed blown along the thoroughfare on the light
spring wind; a restless energy tingled in the blood.

On the steps of the little theatre, Blake looked back at his party.

'The night was young! What would they say to supper?'

Jacqueline's eyes sparkled, but she looked at M. Cartel, and regretfully
M. Cartel shook his head.

'Alas! He was expecting a friend--a composer, to call upon him before
midnight.'

Jacqueline betrayed no disappointment; with a charming air she echoed
the regret, the shake of the head, and slipped a confiding hand through
M. Cartel's arm.

Then followed the leave-taking--the thanks and disclaimers--the promises
of future meetings--and at last the lovers moved out into the crowd--M.
Cartel, cheery and brisk, humming the tunes of '_Les Cloches_,' the
little Jacqueline clinging to his arm, smiling up into his ugly face.

Max watched them for a moment with a deep intentness, then wheeled round
swiftly and caught Blake's arm.

"Ned! Take me somewhere! I would forget myself!"

"What troubles you, boy? Not the thought of the picture?"

"No! A something of no consequence. Do not question me. Be kind to me,
and take me where I can see life and forget myself."

"Where will I take you?"

"To some place of gayety--where no one thinks."

"Very well! We'll go over and have supper at the Rat Mort. You won't be
over-troubled with thought there. We can sit in a corner and observe,
and I give you my word there will be no encounters with old friends this
time! I'll be blind and deaf and dumb if anything is washed up from the
past!"

Guiding the boy across the crowded roadway, he passed through the narrow
door and up the steep stair that ends so abruptly into the long, low
supper-room of the Rat Mort.

Max felt the abruptness of this entry, as so many climbers of the
ladder-like stairs have felt it before him; and a dazed sensation seize