feet shuffling stealthily through the Alte Wiese whisper a caution of
silence to those issuing with a less guarded tread from the opera; the
little bowers that overhang the stream are as dark and mute as the
restaurants across the way which serve meals in them by day; the whole
place is as forsaken as other cities at midnight. People get quickly home
to bed, or if they have a mind to snatch a belated joy, they slip into
the Theater-Cafe, where the sleepy Frauleins serve them, in an exemplary
drowse, with plates of cold ham and bottles of the gently gaseous waters
of Giesshubl. Few are of the bold badness which delights in a supper at
Schwarzkopf's, and even these are glad of the drawn curtains which hide
their orgy from the chance passer.

The invalids of Burnamy's party kept together, strengthening themselves
in a mutual purpose not to be tempted to eat anything which was not
strictly 'kurgemass'. Mrs. March played upon the interest which each of
them felt in his own case so artfully that she kept them talking of their
cure, and left Burnamy and Miss Triscoe to a moment on the bridge, by
which they profited, while the others strolled on, to lean against the
parapet and watch the lights in the skies and the water, and be alone
together. The stream shone above and below, and found its way out of and
into the darkness under the successive bridges; the town climbed into the
night with lamp-lit windows here and there, till the woods of the
hill-sides darkened down to meet it, and fold it in an embrace from which
some white edifice showed palely in the farthest gloom.

He tried to make her think they could see that great iron crucifix which
watches over it day and night from its piny cliff. He had a fancy for a
poem, very impressionistic, which should convey the notion of the
crucifix's vigil. He submitted it to her; and they remained talking till
the others had got out of sight and hearing; and she was letting him keep
the hand on her arm which he had put there to hold her from falling over
the parapet, when they were both startled by approaching steps, and a
voice calling, "Look here! Who's running this supper party, anyway?"

His wife had detached March from her group for the mission, as soon as
she felt that the young people were abusing her kindness. They answered
him with hysterical laughter, and Burnamy said, "Why, it's Mr. Stoller's
treat, you know."

At the restaurant, where the proprietor obsequiously met the p