ections of that period, when, unfettered in fancy,
he had transferred to his sketch-book the fine Renaissance details of
the Otto-Heinrichs-Bau came back with unpleasant force. He knew of some
carved cask-heads and other curious wood-work in the castle cellars,
copies of which, being unobtainable by photographs, he had intended to
make if all went well between Paula and himself. The zest for this was
now well-nigh over. But on awaking in the morning and looking up
the valley towards the castle, and at the dark green height of the
Konigsstuhl alongside, he felt that to become vanquished by a passion,
driven to suffer, fast, and pray in the dull pains and vapours of
despised love, was a contingency not to be welcomed too readily.
Thereupon he set himself to learn the sad science of renunciation, which
everybody has to learn in his degree--either rebelling throughout the
lesson, or, like Somerset, taking to it kindly by force of judgment.
A more obstinate pupil might have altogether escaped the lesson in the
present case by discovering its illegality.

Resolving to persevere in the heretofore satisfactory paths of art while
life and faculties were left, though every instinct must proclaim that
there would be no longer any collateral attraction in that pursuit, he
went along under the trees of the Anlage and reached the castle vaults,
in whose cool shades he spent the afternoon, working out his intentions
with fair result. When he had strolled back to his hotel in the evening
the time was approaching for the table-d'hote. Having seated himself
rather early, he spent the few minutes of waiting in looking over
his pocket-book, and putting a few finishing touches to the afternoon
performance whilst the objects were fresh in his memory. Thus occupied
he was but dimly conscious of the customary rustle of dresses and
pulling up of chairs by the crowd of other diners as they gathered
around him. Serving began, and he put away his book and prepared for the
meal. He had hardly done this when he became conscious that the person
on his left hand was not the typical cosmopolite with boundless hotel
knowledge and irrelevant experiences that he was accustomed to find next
him, but a face he recognized as that of a young man whom he had met
and talked to at Stancy Castle garden-party, whose name he had now
forgotten. This young fellow was conversing with somebody on his left
hand--no other personage than Paula herself. Next to Paula he beh