.
But he still could not call to mind what had occurred. The previous
evening was blurred in its details; he only had a sense of oppression
when he thought of it, as of something that had threatened, and still
did. He was glad to have a definite task before him, and went out at
once, in order to catch Schwarz before he left the Conservatorium; but
it was too late; the master's door was locked. It was a bright, cold
day with strong sunlight; Maurice's eyes ached, and he shrank from the
wind at every corner. Instead of going home, he went to Madeleine's
room and sat down to wait for her. She had evidently been away since
early morning; the piano was dusty and unopened; the blind at the head
of it had not been drawn up. It was a pleasant dusk; he put his arms on
the table, his head on his arms, and, in spite of his anxiety, fell
into a sound sleep.

He was wakened by Madeleine's entrance. It was three o'clock. She came
bustling in, took off her hat, laid it on the piano, and at once drew
up the blind. She was not surprised to find him there, but exclaimed at
his appearance.

"Good gracious, Maurice, how dreadful you look! Are you ill?"

He hastened to reassure her, and she was a little put out at her wasted
sympathy.

"Well, no wonder, I'm sure, after the doings there were last night. A
pretty way to behave! And that you should have mixed yourself up in it
as you did!--I wouldn't have believed it of you. How I know? My dear
boy, it's the talk of the place."

Her words called up to him a more lucid remembrance of the past evening
than he had yet been capable of. In his eagerness to recollect
everything, he changed colour and looked away. Madeleine put his
confusion down to another cause.

"Never mind, it's over now, and we won't say any more about it. Sit
still, and I'll make you some tea. That will do your head good--for you
have a splitting headache, haven't you? I shall be glad of some myself,
too, after all the running about I've had this morning. I'm quite worn
out."

When she heard that he had had no dinner, she sent for bread and
sausage, and was so busy and unsettled that only when she sat down,
with her cup before her, did he get a chance to say: "What is it,
Madeleine? Is she very ill?"

Madeleine shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, she is ill enough. It's not
easy to say what the matter is, though. The doctor is to see her again
this evening. And I found a nurse."

"Then she is not going away?" He did not