six hundred pounds, more than
double his own weight, for it put him at ease with himself. But this
evening he felt uncomfortable. What if he were to reach such a climax in
adiposity What if in the years to come he should be compelled, as was
the unfortunate man from Berlin, to sit on a chair every five minutes, a
chair carried by an impudent boy! What--here his heart sank--if the
Fraeulein should mock his size! He walked so rapidly at this idea that
other victims of rotundity stopped to look at his tall figure and nodded
approval. Ach! Marienbad was wonderful!

After he had found a seat at the Alm next to the low wall, across which
he could see a vast stretch of undulating country, lighted by a moon
that seemed to swing like a silver hoop in the sky, Krayne ordered
Pilsner. He was fatigued by the hilly scramble and he was thirsty. Oh,
the lovely thirst of Marienbad--who that hath not been within thy
hospitable gates he knoweth it not! The magic of the night was making of
him a poet. He could see his Tyrolean friends behind the glass partition
of the little hall. There would they sing, not in the open. It was
nearly the same, for presently the windows were raised and their voices
came floating out to him, the bourdon of Roeselein's organ easily
distinguishable. Love had sharpened his ears. He drained his glass and
sent for another. He felt that he was tumbling down an abyss of passion
and that nothing in the world could save him.

The intermission! He stood up to attract the attention of Herr Johan
Praeger. Roeselein saw him and at once neared him, but without the basket.
This delicacy pleased Krayne very much. It showed him that he was not on
the same footing as the public. He made the girl take a seat, and though
he felt the eyes of the crowd upon him, he was not in the least
concerned. London was far away and the season was too young for the
annual rush of his compatriots. Would the Fraeulein take something? She
accepted coffee, which she drank from a long glass with plenty of milk
and sugar. She again gazed at him with such a resigned expression that
he felt his starched cuffs grow warm from their contiguity to his
leaping pulses.

"Yes, Fraeulein," he said, employing the familiar _du_, "thou hast
overcome me. Why not accept my offer?" Was this the prudent Hugh Krayne
talking? She smiled sweetly and shook her head. Her voice was delicious
in colour and intonation, nor did it betray humble origin.

"I fear, dear