k out? What
becomes of the marriage tie?"

"The marriage tie," growled Mr. Treffry, "is the biggest thing there is!
But, by Jove, Doctor, I'm a Dutchman if hunting women ever helped the
marriage tie!"

"I am not thinking of myself," Herr Paul cried out, "I think of the
community. There are rights."

"A decent community never yet asked a man to tread on his self-respect.
If I get my fingers skinned over my marriage, which I undertake at my
own risk, what's the community to do with it? D'you think I'm going to
whine to it to put the plaster on? As to rights, it'd be a deuced sight
better for us all if there wasn't such a fuss about 'em. Leave that to
women! I don't give a tinker's damn for men who talk about their rights
in such matters."

Sarelli rose. "But your honour," he said, "there is your honour!"

Mr. Treffry stared at him.

"Honour! If huntin' women's your idea of honour, well--it isn't mine."

"Then you'd forgive her, sir, whatever happened," Dawney said.

"Forgiveness is another thing. I leave that to your sanctimonious
beggars. But, hunt a woman! Hang it, sir, I'm not a cad!" and bringing
his hand down with a rattle, he added: "This is a subject that don't
bear talking of."

Sarelli fell back in his seat, twirling his moustaches fiercely. Harz,
who had risen, looked at Christian's empty place.

'If I were married!' he thought suddenly.

Herr Paul, with a somewhat vinous glare, still muttered, "But your duty
to the family!"

Harz slipped through the window. The moon was like a wonderful white
lantern in the purple sky; there was but a smoulder of stars. Beneath
the softness of the air was the iciness of the snow; it made him want to
run and leap. A sleepy beetle dropped on its back; he turned it over and
watched it scurry across the grass.

Someone was playing Schumann's Kinderscenen. Harz stood still to listen.
The notes came twining, weaving round his thoughts; the whole night
seemed full of girlish voices, of hopes and fancies, soaring away to
mountain heights--invisible, yet present. Between the stems of the
acacia-trees he could see the flicker of white dresses, where Christian
and Greta were walking arm in arm. He went towards them; the blood
flushed up in his face, he felt almost surfeited by some sweet emotion.
Then, in sudden horror, he stood still. He was in love! With nothing
done with everything before him! He was going to bow down to a face! The
flicker of the dresses was no longer