ng-parties, and
went back into the town to seek the quieter garden of the _Pavillion
Louis XIV_. There was a big linden-tree there and a certain table at
one side of it where he had dined before. He would go there now for
his solitary repast.

But the garden also was well-patronized that night. The white-aproned
waiters were running to and fro; the stout landlady in black silk and
a lace cap was moving among her guests with beaming face; a soft
babble of talk and laughter rose from every walk and corner. When
Richard came to his chosen table he found it occupied by three ladies.
Disappointed, he was turning to look for another place, when the voice
of Carola Brune called him.

When a thing like that happens, a man does not know exactly where he
is, or how he feels. The largeness and the smallness of the world
amaze him; the mystery of life bewilders him; he is confused in the
presence of the unknown quantity. How he behaves, what he says or
does, depends entirely upon instincts beyond his control.

Richard would have been puzzled to give an account of his introduction
to Mrs. Farr, and of his recognition of the little sister, now grown
to young womanhood. The conversation at the table where he dined with
the family party was very vague in his mind. He knew that he was
telling them about his adventures, as if they were scenes in a comedy,
and that he said a little about the turn of good luck that had come
to him just in time. He knew that Carola was talking of her
music-lessons, and of her dear master and of his sudden promise that
she should have a concert in the early winter. It was all very jolly
and friendly, but it did not seem quite real to him until he asked her
a question.

"Where did you live in Paris last May?"

"In the Rue de Grenelle," she answered; "of course you know that old
street."

He nodded and fell into silence, letting his cigarette go out, as he
sipped his coffee.

"Well," he said, "this has been delightful--it was great luck to meet
you. But I suppose I should be going. The best of friends must part."

"But no," said Carola, flushing faintly, "what reason is there for
that stupid proverb now? My aunt and sister always take a little walk
on the terrace after dinner to see the lights. But you must let me
show you what pretty rooms we have found here for our vacation. I have
to be near the master and to keep up my practising, you know. I have a
heavenly piano. Don't you want to hear whether