in
Alexandria, I was of necessity a friend of the _demi-vierge_, and I am
familiar with the significant change in the tone of these women when
they have secured a wealthy lover. When Mademoiselle commanded me to
leave the house I was not deceived. It was for me the destruction of my
hopes and the birth of a resolution.'

"He held his finger horizontal, pointing at my breast, as though his
resolution was to take careful aim and shoot. 'Which nothing can kill,'
he added, with calmness, and folded his arms on the table.

"Now what struck me about these revelations of M. Nikitos, made across
the sloppy marble-topped table of the _Odeon_, was what I may call their
preoccupied sincerity. He conveyed the impression of being perfectly
sincere and yet thinking of something else at the same time. And there
was another peculiar thing about it. Although he addressed himself to me
with exaggerated directness, I could not rid myself of the conviction
that I knew no more of what he was really up to than if I were in a
theatre watching him on the stage. For, remember, all the sounds, the
cries of the fanatics, the guttural ebullience of the burly person with
the silver star, the article for the _Phos_, half written in a spidery
Greek script, the whole of the jangling uproar of the city, was within
this man's cognizance, while to me it was a mere senseless cacophony.
His assumption of lonely despair was not borne out by the subtle air he
had of being in with all these people who were chaffering among
themselves and applauding the rhetorician with his silver star. And the
upshot was that I grew very much afraid of this sinister, shrunken
figure whose hopes had been destroyed, and who was nursing with extreme
care a new-born resolution 'which nothing could kill.' His singular
claim to purity only added to this alarm. One is scarcely reassured by
hearing that a man is not only desperate but immaculate. And I did what
most of us would do under the circumstances. I got up to go. M. Nikitos
gathered his manuscript together, stuffed it into his breast pocket and
prepared to accompany me. As we came out upon the quay I turned to him.

"'Are you coming down to the ship?' The question seemed to bring his
thoughts to a standstill.

"'The ship?' he repeated. 'Oh, no, Monsieur. Why should I go down to the
ship? I will see you when you return.'

"'Now see here,' I said, touching him on the shoulder, 'you must get all
that nonsense out of your he