ident which does not stand close investigation. However, that
particular man died as quietly as a child goes to sleep. But, after
listening to him, I could not take my soul down into the street to fight
there. I started off to wander about, an independent spectator--if that
is possible."

For a long time the girl's grey eyes had been watching his face. She
discovered that, addressing her, he was really talking to himself. Heyst
looked up, caught sight of her as it were, and caught himself up, with a
low laugh and a change of tone.

"All this does not tell you why I ever came here. Why, indeed? It's like
prying into inscrutable mysteries which are not worth scrutinizing. A
man drifts. The most successful men have drifted into their successes.
I don't want to tell you that this is a success. You wouldn't believe
me if I did. It isn't; neither is it the ruinous failure it looks. It
proves nothing, unless perhaps some hidden weakness in my character--and
even that is not certain."

He looked fixedly at her, and with such grave eyes that she felt obliged
to smile faintly at him, since she did not understand what he meant. Her
smile was reflected, still fainter, on his lips.

"This does not advance you much in your inquiry," he went on. "And in
truth your question is unanswerable; but facts have a certain positive
value, and I will tell you a fact. One day I met a cornered man. I use
the word because it expresses the man's situation exactly, and because
you just used it yourself. You know what that means?"

"What do you say?" she whispered, astounded. "A man!"

Heyst laughed at her wondering eyes.

"No! No! I mean in his own way."

"I knew very well it couldn't be anything like that," she observed under
her breath.

"I won't bother you with the story. It was a custom-house affair,
strange as it may sound to you. He would have preferred to be killed
outright--that is, to have his soul dispatched to another world, rather
than to be robbed of his substance, his very insignificant substance, in
this. I saw that he believed in another world because, being cornered,
as I have told you, he went down on his knees and prayed. What do you
think of that?"

Heyst paused. She looked at him earnestly.

"You didn't make fun of him for that?" she said.

Heyst made a brusque movement of protest

"My dear girl, I am not a ruffian," he cried. Then, returning to his
usual tone: "I didn't even have to conceal a smile. Somehow it d