poken or saw glances exchanged which
somehow cast a little shadow across his mind; but still, men and
women, knowing his bringing-up, and awed perhaps by his instinctive
purity, put their best side forward for Linus. So that he remained
innocent, and thought others so. And when sometimes an old friend of
his uncle's said a grave word to him, or warned him against some of
those with whom he spent his days, Linus said lightly that he judged
no one, and indeed that he had seen nothing to judge.

One evening he found himself at a banquet at the house of a rich man
whom for some reason he did not wholly trust. He had hesitated to go,
but had put the thought aside, saying to himself that he must not be
suspicious. The company had assembled, all being men, and were
listening from an open gallery to a concert of lutes and viols, the
players being skilfully concealed among the trees of the garden. It
was twilight, and the blue sky, with a few bright stars, died into a
line of pure green, the sharp tops of the cypresses showing very black
against it, and the towers of a neighbouring house looking gravely
over.

Somehow Linus did not wholly like the music; it seemed to him as
though some bright and yet dangerous beast was walking in the dark
alleys of the garden, his eyes sparkling; the music, after a low
descant, rose in a delicious wail of sorrow and sank again, and Linus
felt something wild and passionate stir in his heart and rise in
yearning for he knew not what. He looked round at the guests who sat
or stood in little groups, and he felt again that he had not been wise
to come. There were several persons there who were not well spoken of,
luxurious and effeminate men, whom Linus knew only by repute; but at
that moment his host came up and spoke so gently and courteously to
Linus, asking him whether he was pleased with the unseen music, that
Linus grew ashamed of his secret thoughts.

Presently the banquet was ready, and the guests went in little groups
into a large vaulted hall, kept deliciously cool by a fountain, that
poured into a marble trough like an altar at the end, with a white
statue above it of a boy looking earnestly at the water. At the other
end the great doors were open to the garden, and the breeze, heavily
laden with the scent of flowers, came wandering in and stirred the
flames of the lamps which stood on high stone brackets along the
walls. Each side of the room was supported by an arcade of stone built