into the straggling group of Zangiacomo's
performers. It was a shock to him, on coming out of his brown study, to
find the girl so near to him, as if one waking suddenly should see the
figure of his dream turned into flesh and blood. She did not raise her
shapely head, but her glance was no dream thing. It was real, the most
real impression of his detached existence--so far.

Heyst had not acknowledged it in any way, though it seemed to him
impossible that its effect on him should not be visible to anyone who
happened to be looking on. And there were several men on the
veranda, steady customers of Schomberg's table d'hote, gazing in his
direction--at the ladies of the orchestra, in fact. Heyst's dread arose,
not out of shame or timidity, but from his fastidiousness. On getting
amongst them, however, he noticed no signs of interest or astonishment
in their faces, any more than if they had been blind men. Even Schomberg
himself, who had to make way for him at the top of the stairs, was
completely unperturbed, and continued the conversation he was carrying
on with a client.

Schomberg, indeed, had observed "that Swede" talking with the girl in
the intervals. A crony of his had nudged him; and he had thought that it
was so much the better; the silly fellow would keep everybody else off.
He was rather pleased than otherwise and watched them out of the corner
of his eye with a malicious enjoyment of the situation--a sort of
Satanic glee. For he had little doubt of his personal fascination, and
still less of his power to get hold of the girl, who seemed too ignorant
to know how to help herself, and who was worse than friendless, since
she had for some reason incurred the animosity of Mrs. Zangiacomo, a
woman with no conscience. The aversion she showed him as far as she
dared (for it is not always safe for the helpless to display the
delicacy of their sentiments), Schomberg pardoned on the score of
feminine conventional silliness. He had told Alma, as an argument, that
she was a clever enough girl to see that she could do no better than to
put her trust in a man of substance, in the prime of life, who knew
his way about. But for the excited trembling of his voice, and the
extraordinary way in which his eyes seemed to be starting out of his
crimson, hirsute countenance, such speeches had every character of calm,
unselfish advice--which, after the manner of lovers, passed easily into
sanguine plans for the future.

"We'll soon