clenching his fists.

He left the Casino, and set forth to walk to Ventirose. He
could not wait for the omnibus, which would not leave till
four. He must strike while his will was hot.

He walked rapidly; in less than an hour he had reached the tall
gilded grille of the park. He stopped for an instant, and
looked up the straight avenue of chestnuts, to the western
front of the castle, softly alight in the afternoon sun. He
put his hand upon the pendent bell-pull of twisted iron, to
summon the porter. In another second he would have rung, he
would have been admitted . . . . And just then one of the
little demons that inhabit the circumambient air, called his
attention to an aspect of the situation which he had not
thought of.

"Wait a bit," it whispered in his ear. "You were there only
yesterday. It can't fail, therefore, to seem extraordinary,
your calling again to-day. You must be prepared with an
excuse, an explanation. But suppose, when you arrive, suppose
that (like the lady in the ballad) she greets you with 'a
glance of cold surprise'--what then, my dear? Why, then, it's
obvious, you can't allege the true explanation--can you? If
she greets you with a glance of cold, surprise, you 'll have
your answer, as it were, before the fact you 'll know that there's
no manner of hope for you; and the time for passionate avowals
will automatically defer itself. But then--? How will you
justify your visit? What face can you put on?"