natural enough that he should be eager to go, she thought, he was a boy
and the future beckoned to him; but she--she clenched her teeth so that
she should not cry. She uttered a little inward prayer that God would
guard him, and keep him out of temptation, and give him happiness and good
fortune.

But Philip ceased to think of her a moment after he had settled down in
his carriage. He thought only of the future. He had written to Mrs. Otter,
the massiere to whom Hayward had given him an introduction, and had in
his pocket an invitation to tea on the following day. When he arrived in
Paris he had his luggage put on a cab and trundled off slowly through the
gay streets, over the bridge, and along the narrow ways of the Latin
Quarter. He had taken a room at the Hotel des Deux Ecoles, which was in a
shabby street off the Boulevard du Montparnasse; it was convenient for
Amitrano's School at which he was going to work. A waiter took his box up
five flights of stairs, and Philip was shown into a tiny room, fusty from
unopened windows, the greater part of which was taken up by a large wooden
bed with a canopy over it of red rep; there were heavy curtains on the
windows of the same dingy material; the chest of drawers served also as a
washing-stand; and there was a massive wardrobe of the style which is
connected with the good King Louis Philippe. The wall-paper was
discoloured with age; it was dark gray, and there could be vaguely seen on
it garlands of brown leaves. To Philip the room seemed quaint and
charming.

Though it was late he felt too excited to sleep and, going out, made his
way into the boulevard and walked towards the light. This led him to the
station; and the square in front of it, vivid with arc-lamps, noisy with
the yellow trams that seemed to cross it in all directions, made him laugh
aloud with joy. There were cafes all round, and by chance, thirsty and
eager to get a nearer sight of the crowd, Philip installed himself at a
little table outside the Cafe de Versailles. Every other table was taken,
for it was a fine night; and Philip looked curiously at the people, here
little family groups, there a knot of men with odd-shaped hats and beards
talking loudly and gesticulating; next to him were two men who looked like
painters with women who Philip hoped were not their lawful wives; behind
him he heard Americans loudly arguing on art. His soul was thrilled. He
sat till very late, tired out but too happy to move,