ere again, in his old
place opposite the Baron, gazing at him continually, with his gloomy,
spectral eves. The Baron restrained himself; but when, on the third
night, the Stranger was there again, gazing at him with eyes of
devouring fire, Siegfried broke out: "I must really beg you, sir, to
select some other place. You are interfering with my play."

The stranger bowed, with a pained smile, and, without a word, left the
table, and the room.

But the following night he was standing in his old place, opposite to
Siegfried, transfixing him with his gloomy, glowing eyes. The Baron
broke out more angrily than on the previous night. "If it is any
entertainment to you, sir, to glare at me in that sort of manner, I
must beg you to select another place and another time. But--for the
present"--a motion of the hand in the direction of the door took the
place of the hard words which the Baron had on the tip of his tongue.

And, as on the previous night, the Stranger, bowing with the same
pained smile, left the room. Excited by the game, by the wine he had
taken, and by the encounter with the Stranger, Siegfried could not
sleep. When morning broke, the whole appearance of the Stranger rose to
his memory. He saw the expressive face, the well-cut features, marked
with sorrow, the hollow gloomy eyes which had gazed at him. He noticed
that though he was poorly dressed, his refined manners and bearing
spoke of good birth and up-bringing. And then the way in which he had
received the hard words with quiet resignation, and gone away,
swallowing the bitterness of his feelings with a power over himself.
"Oh!" said Siegfried, "I was wrong--I did him great injustice. Is it
like me to fly into a passion, and insult people without rhyme or
reason, like a foolish boy?" He came to the conclusion that the man had
been gazing at him with a bitter sense of the tremendous contrast
between them. At the moment when he--perhaps--was in the depths of
distress, the Baron was heaping gold on the top of gold, and carrying
all before him. He determined that the first thing in the morning he
would go and find out the Stranger, and do something to remedy his
condition.

And, as fate would have it, the Stranger was the first person he met,
as he was taking a walk down the Allee.

The Baron addressed him, apologised for his behaviour on the previous
night, and formally asked him to forgive him. The Stranger said there
was nothing to forgive. People who wer