an to fetch water;
the other two young men were embarrassed, and looked away.

Here, however, several friends burst into the room, and bore Fraulein
Prybowski off. Schwarz gave the signal, the stringplayers picked up
their instruments, and the little procession, with Maurice at its head,
mounted the steps to the platform.

Although before an audience for the first time in his life, Maurice had
never felt more composed. Passing by the organ, and the empty seats of
the orchestra, he descended to the front of the platform, where two
grand pianos stood side by side; and, as he went, he noted that the
hall was exceptionally well filled. He let down the lid of the piano to
the peg for chambermusic; he lowered the piano-chair, and flicked the
keys with his handkerchief. And Schwarz, sitting by him, to turn the
pages of the music, felt so sure of this pupil's coolness that he
yawned, and stroked the insides of his trouser-legs.

Maurice was just ready for the start, when the 'cellist, who was
restless, discovered that the stand which had been placed for him was
insecure; rising from his scat, he went to fetch another from the back
of the platform. In the delay that ensued, Maurice looked round at the
audience. He saw innumerable heads and faces, all turned expectantly
towards him, like lines of globular fruits. His eye ranged
indifferently over the occupants of the front seats--strange faces,
which told him nothing--until his attention was arrested by a face
almost directly beneath him, in the second row. For the flash of a
second, he thought he knew the person to whom it belonged, and
struggled to recall a name. Then, almost as swiftly, he dismissed the
idea. It was, however, a face of that kind which, once seen, is never
forgotten--a frog-like face, with protruding eyes, and the frog's
expressive leer. Somewhere, not very long ago, this face had been
before him, and had stared at him in the same disconcerting manner--but
where? when? In the few seconds that remained, his brain worked
furiously, sped back in desperate haste over all the likely places
where he might have seen it. And a restaurant evolved itself; a table
in a secluded corner; chrysanthemums and their acrid scent; a screen,
round which this repulsive face had peered. It had fixed them both,
with such malevolence that it had destroyed his pleasure, and he had
persuaded Louise to go home. His memory was now so alert that he could
recall the man's two companions