came to an end, to the more
human strains of the FEUERZAUBER, and they, the last of the
gallery-audience to leave, had tramped down the wooden stairs,
Maurice's heart leapt to his throat to discover, as they turned the
last bend, not only the two Cayhills waiting for them, but also, a
little distance further off, Louise. She stood there, in her white
dress, with a thin scarf over her head.

Madeleine was surprised too. "Louise! Is it you? And alone?"

The girl did not respond. "I want to borrow some money from you,
Madeleine--about five or six marks," she said, without smiling, in one
of those colourless voices that preclude further questioning.

Madeleine was not sure if she had more than a couple of marks in her
purse, and confirmed this on looking through it under a lamp; but both
young men put their hands in their pockets, and the required sum was
made up. As they walked across the square, Louise explained. Dressed,
and ready to start for the theatre, she had not been able to find her
purse.

"I looked everywhere. And yet I had it only this morning. At the last
moment, I came down here to Markwald's. He knows me; and he let me have
the seats on trust. I said I would go in afterwards."

They waited outside the tobacconist's, while she settled her debt.
Before she came out again, Madeleine cast her eyes over the group, and,
having made a rapid surmise, said good-naturedly to Johanna: "Well, I
suppose we shall walk together as far as we can. Shall you and I lead
off?"

Maurice had a sudden vision of bliss; but no sooner had Louise appeared
again, with the shopman bowing behind her, then Ephie came round to his
side, with a naive, matter-of-course air that admitted of no rebuff,
and asked him to carry her opera-glass. Dove and Louise brought up the
rear.

But Dove had only one thought: to be in Maurice's place. Ephie had
behaved so strangely in the theatre; he had certainly done something to
offend her, and, although he had more than once gone over his conduct
of the past week, without finding any want of correctness on his part,
whatever it was, he must make it good without delay.

"You know my friend Guest, I think," he said at last, having racked his
brains to no better result--not for the world would he have had his
companion suspect his anxiety to leave her. "He's a clever fellow, a
very clever fellow. Schwarz thinks a great deal of him. I wonder what
his impressions of the opera were. This was his first