banging of the front-door, and then voices at the foot of the
staircase. I trembled lest we should be over-taken, and I would have
hurried Diaz on, but he would not be hurried. Happily, as we were halfway
between the second and third story, the man and the girl whose voices I
heard stopped at the second. I caught sight of them momentarily through
the banisters. The man was striking matches as I had been. '_C'est ici_,'
the girl whispered. She was dressed in blue with a very large hat. She
put a key in the door when they had stopped, and then our matches went
out simultaneously. The door shut, and Diaz and I were alone on the
staircase again. I struck another match; we struggled on.

When I had taken his key from Diaz' helpless hand, and opened his door
and guided him within, and closed the door definitely upon the outer
world, I breathed a great sigh. Every turn of the stair had been a
station of the cross for me. We were now in utter darkness. The classical
effluvium of inebriety mingled with the classical odour of the furnished
lodging. But I cared not. I had at last successfully hidden his shame. No
one could witness it now but me. So I was glad.

Neither of us said anything as, still with the aid of matches, I
penetrated into the flat. Silently I peered about until I perceived a
pair of candles, which I lighted. Diaz, with his hat on his head and his
umbrella clasped tightly in his hand, fell into a chair. We glanced at
each other.

'You had better go to bed,' I suggested. 'Take your hat off. You will
feel better without it.'

He did not move, and I approached him and gently took his hat. I then
touched the umbrella.

'No, no, no!' he cried suddenly; 'I'm always losing this umbrella, and I
won't let it out of my sight.'

'As you wish,' I replied coldly.

I was standing by him when he got up with a surprising lurch and put a
hand on my shoulder. He evidently meant to kiss me. I kept him at arm's
length, feeling a sort of icy anger.

'Go to bed,' I repeated fiercely. 'It is the only place for you.'

He made inarticulate noises in his throat, and ultimately achieved
the remark:

'You're very hard, Magda.'

Then he bent himself towards the next room.

'You will want a candle,' I said, with bitterness. 'No; I will carry it.
Let me go first.'

I preceded him through a tiny salon into the bedroom, and, leaving him
there with one candle, came back into the first room. The whole place was
deplorable, though