booking for Como. At Como he had
remained a week (the dullest week he had ever known); at the Villa d'Este
three days; at Cadenabbia one day. It had all the characteristics of a
tug-of-war, and irresistibly he was drawn over the line. The night before
he had taken the evening boat across the lake. And Herr Rosen had been his
fellow-passenger! The goddess of chance threw whimsical coils around her
victims. To find himself shoulder to shoulder, as it were, with this man
who, perhaps more than all other incentives, had urged him to return again
to civilization; this man who had aroused in his heart a sentiment that
hitherto he had not believed existed,--jealousy.... Ah, voices! He stepped
aside quickly.

"Fritz, Fritz; where are you?"

And a moment later she came out, followed by her mother ... and the little
lady of the Taverne Royale. Did Nora see him? It was impossible to tell.
She simply stooped and gathered up the puppy, who struggled determinedly
to lick her face. Courtlandt lifted his hat. It was in nowise offered as
an act of recognition; it was merely the mechanical courtesy that a man
generally pays to any woman in whose path he chances to be for the breath
of a second. The three women in immaculate white, hatless, but with
sunshades, passed on down the street.

Courtlandt went into the shop, rather blindly. He stared at the shelves of
paper-covered novels and post-cards, and when the polite proprietor
offered him a dozen of the latter, he accepted them without comment.
Indeed, he put them into a pocket and turned to go out.

"Pardon, sir; those are one franc the dozen."

"Ah, yes." Courtlandt pulled out some silver. It was going to be terribly
difficult, and his heart was heavy with evil presages. He had seen
Celeste. He understood the amusing if mysterious comedy now. Nora had
recognized him and had sent her friend to follow him and learn where he
went. And he, poor fool of a blunderer, with the best intentions in the
world, he had gone at once to the Calabrian's apartment! It was damnable
of fate. He had righted nothing. In truth, he was deeper than ever in the
quicksands of misunderstanding. He shut his teeth with a click. How neatly
she had waylaid and trapped him!

"Those are from Lucerne, sir."

"What?" bewildered.

"Those wood-carvings which you are touching with your cane, sir."

"I beg your pardon," said Courtlandt, apologetically, and gained the open.
He threw a quick glance down the street.