w sat, with head thrown back, a smile on his face, coming
now and then out of his enchanted dreams to drink coffee, answer our
questions, or hum the tune that the band was playing. The ash of his
cigar grew very long. One of those bizarre figures in Oriental garb,
who, night after night, offer their doubtful wares at a great price,
appeared in the white glare of a lamp, looked with a furtive smile at
his face, and glided back, discomfited by its unconsciousness. It was
a night for dreams! A faint, half-eastern scent in the air, of black
tobacco and spice; few people as yet at the little tables, the waiters
leisurely, the band soft! What was he dreaming of, that old fellow,
whose cigar-ash grew so long? Of youth, of his battles, of those things
that must be done by those who try to be gentlemen; perhaps only of his
dinner; anyway of something gilded in vague fashion as the light was
gilding the branches of the plane-tree.

Jules pulled my sleeve: "He sleeps." He had smilingly dropped off; the
cigar-ash--that feathery tower of his dreams--had broken and fallen on
his sleeve. He awoke, and fell to dusting it.

The little tables round us began to fill. One of the bandsmen played a
czardas on the czymbal. Two young Frenchmen, talking loudly, sat down at
the adjoining table. They were discussing the lady who had been at the
concert that afternoon.

"It's a bet," said one of them, "but there's the present man. I take
three weeks, that's enough 'elle est declassee; ce n'est que le premier
pas--'"

My old friend's cigar fell on the table. "Monsieur," he stammered, "you
speak of a lady so, in a public place?"

The young man stared at him. "Who is this person?" he said to his
companion.

My guest took up Jules's glove that lay on the table; before either
of us could raise a finger, he had swung it in the speaker's face.
"Enough!" he said, and, dropping the glove, walked away.

We all jumped to our feet. I left Jules and hurried after him. His face
was grim, his eyes those of a creature who has been struck on a raw
place. He made a movement of his fingers which said plainly. "Leave me,
if you please!"

I went back to the cafe. The two young men had disappeared, so had
Jules, but everything else was going on just as before; the bandsman
still twanging out his czardas; the waiters serving drinks; the
orientals trying to sell their carpets. I paid the bill, sought out the
manager, and apologised. He shrugged his shoulders, s