among the occupied tables. They talked to the men, leaning on their
elbows, and suggesting funnily--if it hadn't been for the crimson
sashes--in their white dresses an assembly of middle-aged brides
with free and easy manners and hoarse voices. The murmuring noise
of conversations carried on with some spirit filled Schomberg's
concert-room. Nobody remarked Heyst's movements; for indeed he was not
the only man on his legs there. He had been confronting the girl for
some time before she became aware of his presence. She was looking down,
very still, without colour, without glances, without voice, without
movement. It was only when Heyst addressed her in his courteous tone
that she raised her eyes.

"Excuse me," he said in English, "but that horrible female has done
something to you. She has pinched you, hasn't she? I am sure she pinched
you just now, when she stood by your chair."

The girl received this overture with the wide, motionless stare of
profound astonishment. Heyst, vexed with himself, suspected that she did
not understand what he said. One could not tell what nationality these
women were, except that they were of all sorts. But she was astonished
almost more by the near presence of the man himself, by his largely
bald head, by the white brow, the sunburnt cheeks, the long, horizontal
moustaches of crinkly bronze hair, by the kindly expression of the man's
blue eyes looking into her own. He saw the stony amazement in hers
give way to a momentary alarm, which was succeeded by an expression of
resignation.

"I am sure she pinched your arm most cruelly," he murmured, rather
disconcerted now at what he had done.