soothe
and console.

As he entered the MOZARTSTRASSE, he saw that there was a light in
Madeleine's window. She was at home, then. He imagined her sitting
quiet and busy in her pleasant room, which, except for the ring of
lamplight, was sunk in peaceful shadow. This was what he needed: an
hour's rest, dim light, and Madeleine's sympathetic tact.

Without giving himself time for thought, he mounted the stair and
pressed the bell-knob on the third floor.

On seeing who her visitor was, Madeleine rose with alacrity from the
writing-table.

"Maurice! Is it really you?"

"I was passing. I thought I would run up ... you're surprised to see
me?"

"Oh, well--you're a stranger now, you know."

She was vexed with herself for showing astonishment. Moving some books,
she made room for him to sit down on the sofa, and, as he was moody,
and seemed in no hurry to state why he had come, she asked if she might
finish the letter she was writing.

"Make yourself comfortable. Here's a cushion for your head."

Through half-closed eyes, he watched her hand travelling across the
sheet of note-paper, and returning at regular intervals, with a sure
swoop, to begin a fresh line. There was no sound except the gentle
scratching of her pen.

Madeleine did not look up till she had finished her letter and
addressed the envelope. Maurice had shut his eyes.

"Are you asleep?" she roused him. "Or only tired?"

"I've a headache."

"I'll make you some tea."

He watched her preparing it, and, by the time she handed him his cup,
he was in the right mood for making her his confidant.

"Look here, Madeleine," he said; "I came up to-night--The fact is, I've
done a foolish thing. And I want to talk to some one about it."

Her eyes grew more alert.

"Let me see if I can help you."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid you can't. But first of all, tell me
frankly, how you thought I got on last night."

"How you got on?" echoed Madeleine, unclear what this was to lead to.
"Why, all right, of course.--Oh, well, if you insist on the truth!--The
fact is, Maurice, you did no better and no worse than the majority of
those who fill the ABEND programmes. What you didn't do, was to reach
the standard your friends had set up for you."

"Thanks. Now listen," and he related to her in detail his misadventure
of the afternoon.

Madeleine followed with close attention. But more distinctly than what
he said, she heard what he did not say. His account of th