me to myself as though indeed I had been a doomed man. He only stuck his head for a moment into our little cuddy where I was changing my clothes and being told in answer to his question that I had no special orders to give went ashore without waiting for me.
Generally we used to step on the quay together and I never failed to enter for a moment Madame Leonore's cafe. But this time when I got on the quay Dominic was nowhere to be seen. What was it? Abandonment--discretion--or had he quarrelled with his Leonore before leaving on the trip?
My way led me past the cafe and through the glass panes I saw that he was already there. On the other side of the little marble table Madame Leonore, leaning with mature grace on her elbow, was listening to him absorbed. Then I passed on and--what would you have!--I ended by making my way into the street of the Consuls. I had nowhere else to go. There were my things in the apartment on the first floor. I couldn't bear the thought of meeting anybody I knew.
The feeble gas flame in the hall was still there, on duty, as though it had never been turned off since I last crossed the hall at half-past eleven in the evening to go to the harbour. The small flame had watched me letting myself out; and now, exactly of the same size, the poor little tongue of light (there was something wrong with that burner) watched me letting myself in, as indeed it had done many times before. Generally the impression was that of entering an untenanted house, but this time before I could reach the foot of the stairs Therese glided out of the passage leading into the studio. After the usual exclamations she assured me that everything was ready
