doll sat against the wall, in a relaxed
attitude, with a set leer on its painted face.

Maurice waited, in growing embarrassment. He had unconsciously fixed
his eyes on the doll; and, in the dead silence of the house, the
senseless face of the creature ruffled his nerves; crossing the room,
he knocked it over with his foot, so that its head fell with a bump on
the parquet floor, where it lay in a still more tipsy position. There
was no doubt that he had arrived at a most inopportune moment; it
seemed, too, as if the servant had forgotten even to announce him.

On cautiously opening the door, with the idea of slipping away, he
heard a child screaming in a distant room, and the mother's voice sharp
in rebuke. The servant was clattering pots and pans in the kitchen, but
she heard Maurice, and put her head out of the door. Her face was red
and swollen with crying.

"What!--you still here?" she said rudely. "I'd forgotten all about you."

"It doesn't matter--another time," murmured Maurice.

But the girl had spoken in a loud voice to make herself heard above the
screaming, which was increasing in volume, and, at her words, a door at
the end of the passage, and facing down it, was opened by about an
inch, and Frau Schwarz peered through the slit.

"Who is it?"

The servant tossed her head, and made no reply. She went back into her
kitchen, and, after a brief absence, during which Frau Schwarz
continued surreptitiously to scrutinise Maurice, came out carrying a
large plateful of BERLINER PFANNKUCHEN. With these she crossed to an
opposite room, and, as she there planked the plate down on the table,
she announced the visitor. A surly voice muttered something in reply.
As, however, the girl insisted in her sulky way, on the length of time
the young man had waited, Schwarz called out stridently: "Well, then,
in God's name, let him come in! And Klara, you tell my wife, if that
noise isn't stopped, I'll throw either her or you downstairs."

Klara appeared again, scarlet with anger, jerked her arm at Maurice, to
signify that he might do the rest for himself, and, retreating into her
kitchen, slammed the door. Left thus, with no alternative, Maurice drew
his heels together, gave the customary rap, and went into the room.

Schwarz was sitting at the table with his head on his hand, tracing the
pattern of the cloth with the blade of his knife. A coffee-service
stood on a tray before him; he had just refilled his cup, and helpe