some paces did he look round; then, with a forced smile, turned and
removed his hat to the faces at the window.

Notwithstanding this moment of gloom, however, he was in an exalted state
all day, and at dinner kept looking at his brother and Traquair
enigmatically. 'What do they know of life?' he thought; 'they might be
here a year and get no farther.' He made jokes, and pinned the menu to
the waiter's coat-tails. "I like this place," he said, "I shall spend
three weeks here." James, whose lips were on the point of taking in a
plum, looked at him uneasily.

IV

On the day of the dinner Swithin suffered a good deal. He reflected
gloomily on Boleskey's clothes. He had fixed an early hour--there would
be fewer people to see them. When the time approached he attired himself
with a certain neat splendour, and though his arm was still sore, left
off the sling....

Nearly three hours afterwards he left the Goldene Alp between his guests.
It was sunset, and along the riverbank the houses stood out, unsoftened
by the dusk; the streets were full of people hurrying home. Swithin had
a hazy vision of empty bottles, of the ground before his feet, and the
accessibility of all the world. Dim recollections of the good things he
had said, of his brother and Traquair seated in the background eating
ordinary meals with inquiring, acid visages, caused perpetual smiles to
break out on his face, and he steered himself stubbornly, to prove that
he was a better man than either' of his guests. He knew, vaguely, that
he was going somewhere with an object; Rozsi's face kept dancing before
him, like a promise. Once or twice he gave Kasteliz a glassy stare.
Towards Boleskey, on the other hand, he felt quite warm, and recalled
with admiration the way he had set his glass down empty, time after time.
'I like to see him take his liquor,' he thought; 'the fellow's a
gentleman, after all.' Boleskey strode on, savagely inattentive to
everything; and Kasteliz had become more like a cat than ever. It was
nearly dark when they reached a narrow street close to the cathedral.
They stopped at a door held open by an old woman. The change from the
fresh air to a heated corridor, the noise of the door closed behind him,
the old woman's anxious glances, sobered Swithin.

"I tell her," said Boleskey, "that I reply for you as for my son."

Swithin was angry. What business had this man to reply for him!

They passed into a large room, crow