brought within the influence of some invisible truth-compelling
talisman, which drew from me confessions the rack could not have
extorted; but never has the influence been so irresistible as in the
case of my Fascinating Friend. I told him what I had told to no other
human soul--what I had told to the lonely glacier, to the lurid
storm-cloud, to the seething sea, but had never breathed in mortal
ear--I told him the tragedy of my life. How well I remember the scene!
We were resting beneath the chestnut-trees that shadow a stretch of
level sward immediately below the last short stage of ascent that leads
into the heart of the squalid village now nestling in the crevices of
the old Moslem fastness. The midday hush was on sea and sky. Far out on
the horizon a level line of smoke showed where an unseen steamer was
crawling along under the edge of the sapphire sphere. As I reached the
climax of my tale an old woman, bent almost double beneath a huge fagot
of firewood, passed us on her way to the village. I remember that it
crossed my mind to wonder whether there was any capacity in the nature
of such as she for suffering at all comparable to that which I was
describing. My companion's sympathy was subtle and soothing. There was
in my tale an element of the grotesque which might have tempted a vulgar
nature to flippancy. No smile crossed my companion's lips. He turned
away his head, on pretense of watching the receding figure of the old
peasant-woman. When he looked at me again, his deep dark eyes were
suffused with a moisture which enhanced the mystery of their tenderness.
In that moment I felt, as I had never felt before, what it is to find a
friend.

We returned to Monte Carlo late in the afternoon, and I found a telegram
at my hotel begging me to be in Genoa the following morning. I had
barely time to bundle my traps together and swallow a hasty meal before
my train was due. I scrawled a note to my new found confidant,
expressing most sincerely my sorrow at parting from him so soon and so
suddenly, and my hope that ere long we should meet again.

III

The train was already at the platform when I reached the station. There
were one or two first-class through carriages on it, which, for a French
railway, were unusually empty. In one of them I saw at the window the
head of the German, and from a certain subdued radiance in his
expression, I judged that he must be carrying off a considerable "pile"
from the gaming-