Alice
became sorry for him.

"Listen!" she said. "I'll invite you and the Krogs here together. Then
perhaps the invitation to their house will come of itself."

He jumped up. "That is a splendid idea! Please do, dear Alice!"

"I can't do it immediately. Mr. Krog is ill. We must wait."

He stood looking at her, much disappointed. "But can you not arrange a
meeting between us two again?"

"Yes, that I might do."

"Do it then--as soon as possible! dear, dear Alice--as soon as
possible!"

This time Alice was successful. Mary was quite ready to meet him again.

They met at Alice's house, to drive together to the exhibition in the
Champs Elysees.

To stand together before works of art is the real conversation without
words. The few words that are spoken awake hundreds. But these remain
unspoken. The one friend feels through the other, or at least they both
believe that they do so. They meet in one picture, to separate in
another. An hour thus spent teaches them more of each other than weeks
of ordinary intercourse. Alice led the two from picture to picture, but
was absorbed in her own thoughts--the more completely the farther they
went. She saw as an artist sees. The others, who began with the
pictures, gradually passed on to discovery of each other through these.
With them it was soon a play of undertones, rapid glances, short
ejaculations, pointing fingers. But those who feel their way to each
other by secret paths enjoy the process exceedingly, and generally allow
it to be perceived that they do so. They play a game like that of a pair
of sea-birds that dive and come up again far away from each other--to
find their way back to each other. The happiness of the moment was
increased by the number of eyes which were turned on them.

Downstairs amongst the statuary, Alice led them straight to the centre
room. She stopped in front of an empty pedestal and turned to the
official in charge. "Is the acrobat not ready yet?" "No, Mademoiselle,"
he answered; "unfortunately not."

"There must have been another accident?"

"I do not know, Mademoiselle."

Alice explained to Mary that the statue of an acrobat had been broken in
the process of setting it up.

"An acrobat?" called Frans Roey. He was standing a short way off; now he
hastened up to them. "An acrobat? Did I hear you speaking about an
acrobat?"

"Yes," said they, and laughed.

"Is that anything to laugh at?" said he. "I have a cousin who is an
acrobat."