venerable rollbook, when the report
spread that Schilsky was willing to play his symphonic poem,
ZARATHUSTRA, to those of his friends who cared to hear it. Curiosity
swelled the number, and Furst lent his house for the occasion.

"You'll come, of course," said the latter to Maurice, as they left
Schwarz's room after their lesson; and Madeleine said the same thing
while driving home from the railway-station, where Maurice had met her.
She was no more a friend of Schilsky's than he was, but she certainly
intended to be present, to hear what kind of stuff he had turned out.

On the evening of the performance, Maurice and she walked together to
the BRANDVORWERKSTRASSE. Madeleine had still much to say. She had
returned from her holiday in the best of health and spirits, liberally
rewarded for her trouble, and possessed of four new friends, who, no
doubt, would all be of use to her when she settled in England again.
This was to be her last winter in Leipzig, and she was drawing up
detailed plans of work. From now on, she intended to take private
lessons from Schwarz, in addition to those she received in the class.

"Even though they do cost ten marks each, it makes him ever so much
better disposed towards you."

She also told him that she had found a letter from Louise waiting for
her, in which the latter announced her return for the following week.
Louise wrote from England, and all her cry was to be back in Leipzig.

"Of course--now he is here," commented Madeleine. "You know, I suppose,
that he has been travelling with Zeppelin? He has the luck of I don't
know what."

The Cayhills would be absent till the middle of the month; Maurice had
received from Ephie one widely written note, loud in praise of a family
of "perfectly sweet Americans," whom they had learnt to know in
Interlaken, but also expressing eagerness to be at home again in "dear
old Leipzig." Dove had arrived a couple of days ago--and here Madeleine
laughed.

"He is absolutely shiny with resolution," she declared. "Mind, Maurice,
if he takes you into confidence--as he probably will--you are not on
any account to dissuade him from proposing. A snub will do him worlds
of good."

They were not the first to climb the ill-lighted stair that wound up to
the Fursts' dwelling. The entry-door on the fourth storey stood open,
and a hum of voices came from the sitting-room. The circular hat-stand
in the passage was crowded with motley headgear.

As they passed