kless. In the morning, he had received, with a delightful
shock, his first letter from Ephie, a very frank, warmly written note,
in which she relied on his great kindness to secure her, WITHOUT
FAIL--these words were deeply underscored--two places in the PARQUET of
the theatre, for that evening's performance. Not the letter alone, but
also its confiding tone, and the reliance it placed in him, had touched
Dove to a deep pleasure; he had been one of the first to arrive at the
box-office that morning, and, although he had not ventured, unasked, to
take himself a seat beside the sisters, he was now living in the
anticipation of promenading the FOYER with them in the intervals
between the acts, and of afterwards escorting them home.

On leaving Louise he made for the theatre with a swinging stride--had
he been in the country, stick in hand, he would have slashed off the
heads of innumerable green and flowering things. As it was, he
whistled--an unusual thing for him to do in the street--then assumed
the air of a man hard pressed for time. Gradually the passers-by began
to look at him with the right amount of attention; he jostled, as if by
accident, one or two of those who were unobservant, then apologised for
his hurry. It was not pleasurable anticipation alone that was
responsible for Dove's state of mind, and for the heightening and
radiation of his self-consciousness. In offering to go early to the
theatre, and to stand at the doors for at least three-quarters of an
hour, in order that the others, coming considerably later might still
have a chance of gaining their favourite seats: in doing this, Dove was
not actuated by a wholly unselfish motive, but by the more complicated
one, which, consciously or unconsciously, was present beneath all the
friendly cares and attentions he bestowed on people. He was never more
content with himself, and with the world at large, than when he felt
that he was essential to the comfort and well-being of some of his
fellow-mortals; than when he, so to speak, had a finger in the pie of
their existence. It engendered a sense of importance, gave life fulness
and variety; and this far outweighed the trifling inconveniences such
welldoing implied. Indeed, he throve on them. For, in his mild way,
Dove had a touch of Caesarean mania--of a lust for power.

Left to herself, Louise Dufrayer walked slowly home to her room in the
BRUDERSTRASSE, but only to throw a hasty look round. It was just as she