of gray cloth, so loose and wide that it hung in folds on the gaunt
and stooping figure; a large wide-awake hat was drawn down to his
very eyes. The new-comer looked right and left, seeking no doubt to
discover his friend; not seeing him, he turned his weary and languid
steps towards the way out. Hermann then came forward. Warren
recognized him at once; a sunny, youthful smile lighted up his
countenance, and, evidently much moved, he stretched out his hand.
An hour later, the two friends were seated opposite to each other
before a well-spread table in Hermann's comfortable apartments.

Warren ate very little; but, on the other hand, Hermann noticed with
surprise and some anxiety that his friend, who had been formerly a
model of sobriety, drank a good deal. Wine, however, seemed to have
no effect on him. The pale face did not flush; there was the same
cold, fixed look in the eye; and his speech, though slow and dull in
tone, betrayed no embarrassment.

When the servant who had waited at dinner had taken away the dessert
and brought in coffee, Hermann wheeled two big arm-chairs close to
the fire, and said to his friend:

"Now, we will not be interrupted. Light a cigar, make yourself at
home, and tell me all you have been doing since we parted."

Warren pushed away the cigars. "If you do not mind," said he, "I
will smoke my pipe. I am used to it, and I prefer it to the best of
cigars."

So saying, he drew from its well-worn case an old pipe, whose color
showed it had been long used, and filled it methodically with moist,