He set the door open and, crossing the bare stone landing, opened
the door of another room, similar to his. They were somber
apartments at the top of the deserted house, which had once been a
nobleman's residence. The doors were still heavy, though blistered
with time and lack of varnish. There were the remains of paneling
upon the wall and frescoes upon the ceiling.

"Come and see me before you go," she pleaded. "I am all alone. Isaac
has gone to a meeting somewhere."

He promised and returned to his own apartment. With the help of a
candle which he stuck upon the mantelpiece, and a cracked mirror, he
first of all shaved, then disappeared for a few minutes behind a
piece of faded curtain and washed vigorously. Afterwards he changed
his clothes, putting on a dress suit produced from the trunk. When
he had finished, he stepped back and laughed softly to himself. His
clothes were well cut. His studs, which had very many times been on
the point of visiting the pawnbroker's, were correct and good. He
was indeed an incongruous figure as he stood there and, with a
candle carefully held away from him in his hand, looked at his own
reflection. For some reason or other, he was feeling elated. Ruth's
words had lingered in his brain. One could never tell which way
fortune might come!

He found her waiting in the darkness. Her long arms were wound for a
moment around his neck, a sudden passion shook her.

"Arnold--dear Arnold," she sobbed, "you are going into the
storm--and I want to go! I want to go, too! My hands are cold, and
my heart. Take me with you, dear!"