essed a conventionalized horror. "O dear," he
cried. "Halt, halt! Kroeger has got in among the ladies. _En arriere_,
Miss Kroeger, back, _fi donc_! All understand it now except you. Quick,
away, back with you!" And he drew out his yellow silk handkerchief and
waved Tonio Kroeger back to his place with it.

Everybody laughed--the boys, the girls, and the ladies beyond the
portieres; for M. Knaak had made the little episode too funny for
words, and all were amused as at a play. Only Mr. Heinzelmann waited
with unmoved official countenance for the signal to play on, for he was
hardened against M. Knaak's effects.

Then the quadrille was continued. And then there was an intermission.
The second-girl came clinking through the door with a tea-tray of
wine-jelly in glasses, and the cook followed in her wake with a cargo
of raisin-cake. But Tonio Kroeger stole away in secret out into the
corridor, and there placed himself with his hands behind him at the
window with drawn blinds, not reflecting that one could see nothing at
all through the blinds, and that it was therefore ridiculous to stand
in front of them and to act as if one were looking out.

But he looked into himself, where there was so much grief and longing.
Why, why was he here? Why was he not sitting in his room by the window,
reading in Storm's _Immensee_ and looking now and then into the
twilight of the garden, where the old walnut-tree was groaning heavily?
That would have been the place for him. Let the others dance and be
lively and adept at it ... But no, this was the right place after all,
where he knew himself near to Inga, even though he only stood lonely
and far off, trying to distinguish her voice, with its ring of warm
life, in the hum, clinking, and laughter there within. Oh, your
laughing blue almond eyes, you fair-haired Inga! As fair and merry as
you, one can be only when one does not read _Immensee_ and never
attempts to compose its like; that is the sad part! ...

She ought to come to him! She ought to notice that he was gone, ought
to feel how it was with him, ought to follow him secretly, if only out
of compassion, lay her hand on his shoulder and say: "Come in and join
us and be happy, for I love you." And he listened for steps behind him,
and waited in unreasonable suspense for her to come. But she came not
at all. The like of that did not happen on earth.

Had she too laughed at him, like all the rest? Yes, she had done so,
gladly as he w