ending down to her. And
they were talking German, so that he could not tell what they were
saying, which made it more unbearable. He had not known there could be
such torture.

And then he began to want to hurt her, too. But that was mean--besides,
how could he hurt her? She did not care for him. He was nothing to
her--only a boy. If she really thought him only a boy, who felt so
old--it would be horrible. It flashed across him that she might be
playing that young violinist against him! No, she never would do that!
But the young beast looked just the sort that might take advantage of her
smiles. If only he WOULD do something that was not respectful, how
splendid it would be to ask him to come for a walk in the woods, and,
having told him why, give him a thrashing. Afterwards, he would not tell
her, he would not try to gain credit by it. He would keep away till she
wanted him back. But suddenly the thought of what he would feel if she
really meant to take this young man as her friend in place of him became
so actual, so poignant, so horribly painful, that he got up abruptly and
went towards the door. Would she not say a word to him before he got out
of the room, would she not try and keep him? If she did not, surely it
would be all over; it would mean that anybody was more to her than he.
That little journey to the door, indeed, seemed like a march to
execution. Would she not call after him? He looked back. She was
smiling. But HE could not smile; she had hurt him too much! Turning his
head away, he went out, and dashed into the rain bareheaded. The feeling
of it on his face gave him a sort of dismal satisfaction. Soon he would
be wet through. Perhaps he would get ill. Out here, far away from his
people, she would have to offer to nurse him; and perhaps--perhaps in his
illness he would seem to her again more interesting than that young
beast, and then--Ah! if only he could be ill!

He mounted rapidly through the dripping leaves towards the foot of the
low mountain that rose behind the hotel. A trail went up there to the
top, and he struck into it, going at a great pace. His sense of injury
began dying away; he no longer wanted to be ill. The rain had stopped,
the sun came out; he went on, up and up. He would get to the top quicker
than anyone ever had! It was something he could do better than that
young beast. The pine-trees gave way to stunted larches, and these to
pine scrub and bare scree, up