at this wholly surprising offer of hospitality.

"But that's awfully good of you," he said, laughing and saying nothing
direct about his acceptance. "It implies, too, that you are going
to Baireuth. We travel together, then, I hope, for it is dismal work
travelling alone, isn't it? My sister tells me that half my friends were
picked up in railway carriages. Been there before?"

Michael felt himself lured from the ordinary aloofness of attitude and
demeanour, which had been somewhat accustomed to view all strangers with
suspicion. And yet, though till this moment he had never spoken to him,
he could hardly regard Falbe as a stranger, for he had heard him say
on the piano what his sister understood by the songs of Brahms and
Schubert. He could not help glancing at Falbe's hands, as they busied
themselves with the filling and lighting of a pipe, and felt that he
knew something of those long, broad-tipped fingers, smooth and white and
strong. The man himself he found to be quite different to what he had
expected; he had seen him before, eager and intent and anxious-faced,
absorbed in the task of following another mind; now he looked much
younger, much more boyish.

"No, it's my first visit to Baireuth," he said, "and I can't tell you
how excited I am about it. I've been looking forward to it so much that
I almost expect to be disappointed."

Falbe blew out a cloud of smoke and laughter.

"Oh, you're safe enough," he said. "Baireuth never disappoints. It's
one of the facts--a reliable fact. And Munich? Do you go to Munich
afterwards?"

"Yes. I hope so."

Falbe clicked with his tongue

"Lucky fellow," he said. "How I wish I was. But I've got to get back
again after my week. You'll spend the mornings in the galleries, and the
afternoons and evenings at the opera. O Lord, Munich!"

He came across from the other side of the carriage and sat next Michael,
putting his feet up on the seat opposite.

"Talk of Munich," he said. "I was born in Munich, and I happen to know
that it's the heavenly Jerusalem, neither more nor less."

"Well, the heavenly Jerusalem is practically next door to Baireuth,"
said Michael.

"I know; but it can't be managed. However, there's a week of unalloyed
bliss between me now and the desolation of London in August. What is
so maddening is to think of all the people who could go to Munich and
don't."

Michael held debate within himself. He felt that he ought to tell his
new acquaintance that