tieth time he rummaged through all his possessions, piece by piece; then he sat down in the midst of the frightful disorder that he had created, as above the ruins of Jerusalem, and corrugated his brow. Perhaps it had been taken by the doctor or by the guffawing Nanda; how else could it have disappeared? When he had discovered, however, that this was not the case he experienced a sort of compulsion or confusion in his head, and, as if in a dream, made his way to the stove, groped in the recess behind it and pulled out . . . the missing parcel. And as he did so he had a vague impression that some time or other he must have put it there himself, some time when he was not yet . . . completely well; he also remembered that in that condition of swooning and delirium he had insisted on having it in the bed with him the whole time and fell into a rage when they tried to take it away from him, and that at the same time he had been in a painful state of anxiety about it. Evidently, with the astuteness of the madman, he had hidden it from himself, so as to be left in peace. But it was impossible to penetrate these secrets of his unconsciousness; anyway, here it was, this carefully packed parcel with five seals, on which were written the words, “for Mr. George Thomas.” He tried to deduce something more from this inscription but instead saw before him the veiled girl, holding the parcel in her trembling fingers; now, now she was again raising her eyes . . . he passionately smelt the package. There clung to it an evanescent and remote fragrance.
He put it down on the table and began to walk
