see them in
the bleak dawn, three frightened stanch figures; the soldiers would be
blowing their fingers in the cold air, and their triggers would be like
ice to the touch ... the shoddy tragedy....

But within the room was warm, a little fire of coal in the unusual
grate, and the soft and mellow lights of candles, and here and there
gauchos' blankets on the wall, and here a comfortable chair and there a
table of line, and brass things ... clean and ascetic, and yet
something womanly about the place, the grace and composition of
things.... And with her coming into her house, Hedda Hagen's manner had
changed gently.... She was no longer frigid, aloof.... She unbent into
calm smiles, and the grace of a hostess of the big world ... the quiet
masonic signal of a certain caste....

"I wonder," he said; "am I dreaming?"

She paused suddenly. She had taken her hat off, and was touching things
on the tables with her large fine hands. She turned her head toward him.
There was a half smile in her eyes.

"Why?"

"It doesn't seem right."

"That you never saw me before, that you are here in this house after
meeting me half an hour ago, and that you can stay here the night?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's true."

She was once more the hostess. It was as if some one had sprung nimbly
from a little height to the ground.

"I can't give you any whisky. But I can make you tea. Or have my maid
brew you some coffee."

"Is that a Russian samovar?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll have tea."

So queer! Without the wind blustered and the little din of it crept into
the room somehow, and within was warmth, and the stillness of still
trees. And grace. Beauty moved like an actress on the stage. All her
motions were harmonious, could have gone to some music on the violin.
Now it was the easy dropping to her knees as she lit the quaint Russian
teapot, now an unconscious movement of her hand to push back a braid of
her hair, now the firm certain motion of her strong white unringed
fingers. Now her large graceful body moved like some heroic statue that
had become quick with life. The thought came into his head, somehow,
that if he had had a sister he would have liked her to have been like
this splendid blond woman....

Yet into this house, where she had settled like some strange bird in an
alien land, came ships' masters, reeking with drink, came merchants with
their minds full of buying and selling and all the petty meannesses of
trade, came dark Lat