tz-covered settees, and
a number of mirrors. Presently Madame Iwin met us, and we went into
a little room behind the drawing-room, where, welcoming me in very
friendly fashion, she seated herself by my side, and began to inquire
after my relations.

Closer acquaintance with Madame (whom I had seen only twice before, and
that but for a moment on each occasion) impressed me favourably. She
was tall, thin, and very pale, and looked as though she suffered from
chronic depression and fatigue. Yet, though her smile was a sad one, it
was very kind, and her large, mournful eyes, with a slight cast in their
vision, added to the pathos and attractiveness of her expression. Her
attitude, while not precisely that of a hunchback, made her whole form
droop, while her every movement expressed languor. Likewise, though her
speech was deliberate, the timbre of her voice, and the manner in which
she lisped her r's and l's, were very pleasing to the ear. Finally, she
did not "ENTERTAIN" me. Unfortunately, the answers which I returned to
her questions concerning my relations seemed to afford her a painful
interest, and to remind her of happier days: with the result that when,
presently, her son left the room, she gazed at me in silence for a
moment, and then burst into tears. As I sat there in mute bewilderment,
I could not conceive what I had said to bring this about. At first I
felt sorry for her as she sat there weeping with downcast eyes. Next I
began to think to myself: "Ought I not to try and comfort her, and how
ought that to be done?" Finally, I began to feel vexed with her for
placing me in such an awkward position. "Surely my appearance is not so
moving as all that?" I reflected. "Or is she merely acting like this to
see what I shall do under the circumstances?"

"Yet it would not do for me to go," I continued to myself, "for that
would look too much as though I were fleeing to escape her tears."
Accordingly I began fidgeting about on my seat, in order to remind her
of my presence.

"Oh, how foolish of me!" at length she said, as she gazed at me for a
moment and tried to smile. "There are days when one weeps for no reason
whatever." She felt about for her handkerchief, and then burst out
weeping more violently than before.

"Oh dear! How silly of me to be for ever crying like this! Yet I was so
fond of your mother! We were such friends! We-we--"

At this point she found her handkerchief, and, burying her face in it,
went on