I.

I had opened my boxes and bags, and had closed them again after a customs officer's pretence at looking at the things which were inside. I wanted now to go back to my carriage, but was told that I had to pass through an adjoining room. Heaven does not know why; much less does anybody else. In that room, out of which a glass door led to the platform, I had to wait. Not many minutes, I was assured; but their quality made up for the quantity. They were hateful minutes. There I was, pasted (if I may say so) to that glass door and looking at that unreachable goal, my carriage, which was standing just in front of me.

Outside a few travellers, favoured for some unknown reason, either by the officials or by fate, were walking leisurely up and down, and I noticed amongst them a very smart officer with a tall lady. He was revolving around her with courtesies that reminded me singularly of a cock's compliments to a hen. He had a most wonderful uniform which fitted him to perfection. He had also a moustache, oh, what a moustache! It gave me an idea of how his horse must be curried. And he wore a single eye-glass, which obliged him to make the most charming grimaces. He was holding his sword by the hilt, except at such moments when he let it drag along the ground, in order to produce a graceful clinking which I could hear through my accursed glass door.

At last we were relieved and set free. I hurried to my carriage to find that the porter whom I had entrusted with my bags and valises had set them down so as to mark all the seats. I would be alone.

"Are all the seats in this section occupied?" asked a rather rattling voice behind me.

I turned round and saw my pretty officer with his lady.

"No," I answered, "I think I am alone," whereupon the lady at once entered the carriage. The officer remained outside and closed the door while she, lowering the window, leaned outside to continue her conversation. I guessed that my journey would be en tête à tête, and, of course, wondered whether she was young and pretty. Her companion was himself such an accomplished beauty, that I had in fact omitted to look at her. Anyhow, what I saw at present, although it was the wrong side only, the reverse of the medal, to be polite, was not at all to be despised. But when the toss was made, would the head be worthy of the tail?

At last a faint whistle was heard.

"Remember to write!" exclaimed the officer outside, while the train stirred, moved groaning forward, and slowly began rolling out of the station. For a while the lady remained leaning out of the window and waving her handkerchief. Then, at length, she sat back in her seat, the seat which the little Frenchman had occupied, and from which his temper (or was it my luck?) had removed him.

She was uncommonly pretty, although she at once assumed an elaborate air of indifference. She even pouted a little, but it only helped to show her fleshy, red lips to a better advantage. And her features were much too soft as to be spoiled by that alleged air of indifference. They were not very regular, these features, but they formed a handsome whole. And now, as a little smile crept over them, a dimple, a tiny, sweet dimple, appeared near the left corner of her mouth.

Why had she smiled? To show that dimple and her lovely teeth? Or had she been thinking of her companion? That smile—was it coquetry, or some pleasing remembrance? Or had mockery made her smile?

What was she to that officer? A sister? A wife? A mistress?

How old was she? I wished she would take off that bonnet. Bonnets deceive. This is the reason why they play such an important part in woman's life.

I did not know much about millinery, but this was rather a showy bonnet. So was the rest of the toilet. She looked like an officer's wife. Besides, had she been his sister, he would scarcely have played the cock and hen game. But then, if she was his wife, he probably would not have played it either! His had been a suitor's behaviour.

I had reached this point of my meditations when she took off her gloves, and I saw that she had no rings on her fingers. And then, as if to satisfy my wishes, she removed the bonnet. She was fair, with a copper sheen on her hair, and probably not more than twenty.

My penetration, for I thought myself pretty shrewd and sharp-sighted, constructed now rapidly the following theory: She was a young gentlewoman, her tall figure being a proof of her high breed. She was well off, the showy dress and her travelling first-class confirmed it. She was nicely brought up, as became a young and noble lady, for she wore no jewellery. (In my idea wearing jewellery is inconsistent with a young lady's good education.) As for the officer, he was neither a brother, nor a husband, nor a lover, but some friend or relation, who had just accompanied her to the railway station in order to help her with her luggage, and so on.

Now, all this proves only, that I was then an inexperienced youth of 21, easy of belief, and superficial. If I tell you that I was a musician (I do not say: I am; I say: I was) you will understand my character altogether.

I had to interrupt my history. Our Father which is in the War Office had sent us our daily jam. I wonder