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opposite would guide Freya, showing her the way....

But he was not able to keep up this signal very long. Scantily clad
dames in kimonos and gentlemen in pyjamas were slipping discreetly down
the passage way in soft, slipper-clad silence, all going in the same
direction, and casting wrathful glances toward the lighted doorway.

Finally he had to close the door. He opened a book, but it was
impossible to read two paragraphs consecutively. His watch said twelve
o'clock.

"She will not come!... She will not come!" he cried in desperation.

A new idea revived his drooping spirits. It was ridiculous that so
discreet a person as Freya should venture to come to his room while
there was a light under the door. Love needed obscurity and mystery.
And besides, this visible hope might attract the notice of some curious
person.

He snapped off the electric light and in the darkness found his bed,
throwing himself down with an exaggerated noise, in order that nobody
might doubt that he had retired for the night. The darkness reanimated
his hope.

"She's going to come.... She will come at any moment."

Again he arose cautiously, noiselessly, going on tiptoe. He must
overcome any possible difficulty at the entrance. He put the door
slightly ajar so as to avoid the swinging noise of the door-fastening.
A chair in the frame of the doorway easily held it unlatched.

He got up several times more, arranging things to his satisfaction and
then threw himself upon the bed, disposed to keep his watch all night,
if it was necessary. He did not wish to sleep. No, he ought not to
drowse.... And half an hour later he was slumbering profoundly without
knowing at what moment he had slid down the soft slopes of sleep.

Suddenly he awoke as if some one had hit his head with a club. His ears
were buzzing.... It was the rude impression of one who sleeps without
wishing to and feels himself shaken by reviving restlessness. Some
moments passed without his taking in the situation. Then he suddenly
recalled it all.... Alone! She had not come!... He did not know whether
minutes or hours had passed by.

Something besides his uneasiness had brought him back to life. He
suspected that in the dark silence some real thing was approaching. A
little mouse appeared to be moving down the corridor. The shoes placed
outside one of the doors were moved with a slight creaking. Ferragut
had the vague impression of air that is displaced by the slow advance
o