o the
waiter for his bill.

"I must go," he said, and rose. "I have something important to do this
evening, and can't join you."

Furst, cut short in the middle of a sentence, let his double chin fall
on his collar, and gazed open-mouthed at his companion.

"But I say, Guest, look here!..." Maurice heard him expostulate as the
outer door slammed behind him.

He made haste to retrace his steps. The wind had dropped; a fine rain
was beginning to fall; it promised to be a wet night, of empty streets
and glistening pavements. There was no visible change in the windows of
the BRUDERSTRASSE; they were as blankly dark as before. Turning up his
coat-collar, Maurice resumed his patrollings, but more languidly; he
was drowsy from having eaten, and the air was chill. A weakness
overcame him at the thought of the night-watch he had set himself; it
seemed impossible to endure the crawling past of still more hours. He
was tired to exhaustion, and a sudden, strong desire arose in him,
somehow, anyhow, to be taken out of himself, to have his thoughts
diverted into other channels. And this feeling grew upon him with such
force, the idea of remaining where he was, for another hour, became so
intolerable, that he forgot everything else, and turned and ran back
towards the PANORAMA, only afraid lest Furst should have gone without
him.

The latter was, in fact, just coming out of the door. He stared in
astonishment at Maurice.

"I've changed my mind," said Maurice, without apology. "Shall we go?
Where's the place?"

Furst mumbled something inaudible; he was grumpy at the other's
behaviour. Scanning him furtively, and noting his odd, excited manner,
he concluded that Maurice had been drinking.

They walked without speaking; Furst hummed to himself. In the
thick-sown, business thoroughfare, the BRUHL, they entered a dingy cafe
and while Furst chattered with the landlord and BUFFETDAME, with both
of whom he was on very friendly terms, Maurice went into the side-room,
where the KNEIPE was to be held, and sat down before a long, narrow
table, spread with a soiled red and blue-checked tablecloth. He felt
cold and sick again, and when the wan PICCOLO set a beer-mat before
him, he sent the lad to the devil for a cognac. The waiter came with
the liqueur-bottle; Maurice drank the contents of one and then another
of the tiny glasses. A genial warmth ran through him and his nausea
ceased. He leaned his head on his hands, closed his eyes, and