left us--her husband and me.

He, too, made ready to leave, but the door opened again. Was it Amy
coming back? No, it was the maid, who, seeing the room was occupied,
started to withdraw.

"Excuse me, sir. I came to put the room in order, but I don't want to
disturb you."

"You may stay."

She began to pick things up and close drawers. He raised his head and
looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Then he rose and went over
to her awkwardly, as though fascinated. A scuffling and an outcry,
stifled by a coarse laugh. She dropped her brush and the gown she was
holding. He caught her from behind and put his arms around her waist.

"Oh, go on! Stop! What-che doing?"

He did not say anything, but pressed her closer to him.

She laughed. Her hair came partly undone and fell down over her blowsy
face. He trod on Amy's gown, which had dropped from the girl's hand.
Then she felt the thing had gone far enough.

"Now, that'll do, that'll do," she said.

Since he still said nothing and brought his jaw close to her neck, she
got angry.

"I told you, that'll do. Stop, I say. What's the matter with you?"

At length he let her go, and left, laughing a devilish laugh of shame
and cynicism.

He went out, his passion still seething. But it was not only the
overwhelming instinct that was stirring in him. A moment before that
exquisite woman had unfolded herself in his presence in all her
exquisite beauty, and he had not desired her.

Perhaps she denied herself to him. Perhaps they had an agreement with
each other. But I plainly saw that even his eyes did not care, those
same eyes which kindled at the sight of the servant girl, that ignoble
Venus with untidy hair and dirty finger nails.

Because he did not know her, because she was different from the one
whom he knew. To have what one has not. So, strange as it may seem,
it was an idea, a lofty, eternal idea that guided his instinct.

I understood--I to whom it was given to behold these human crises--I
understood that many things which we place outside ourselves are really
inside ourselves, and that this was the secret.

How the veils drop off! How the intricacies unravel, and simplicity
appears!

. . . . .

One dark stormy night two women came and occupied the Room. I could
not see them and caught only fragments of their strange, whispered talk
of love. From that time on the meals of the boarding-house had a magic
attraction for me. I st