Oysters were served for the first course; she relished them thoroughly, for she was very hungry; but as the meal proceeded, she became each moment less able to enjoy it.  At last her throat seemed to contract, she felt more inclined to cry than to eat and drink.

At first the reason was not clear to her.  She only felt that this was absolutely different from what she had dreamed of.  This glorious day was to be a disappointment.  At first she thought—­this will end some time, and we shall go comfortably home again.  But by degrees, as his spirits rose, she became merely the guest of a society man.  As such she was shown all imaginable attention—­indeed, the two gentlemen joined in making much of her, till she could have cried.

After luncheon she was ceremoniously conducted on Aaroe’s arm into another room which was also in readiness for them; comfortable, well furnished, and with a piano.

Coffee was served at once with liqueur, and not long afterwards the two men asked to be excused; they wanted to smoke, they would not be long.  They went, and left her alone.  This was scarcely polite, and now she first realised that it was not the day only, but Aaroe, who had become different from what she had believed him.  The great darkness which had overwhelmed her on the night of the ball again menaced her; she fought against it; she got up and paced the room; she longed to be out of doors, as though she could find him again there, such as she had imagined him.  She looked for the luncheon-room, put on her red shawl, and had just come out on to the broad space before the building, when the waiter came up to her and said something in English which she could not at first understand.  Indeed, she was too much occupied with her own thoughts to be able suddenly to change languages.

The waiter told her that one of her companions was ill, and the other not to be found.  Even when she understood the words, she did not realise what was the matter, but followed mechanically.  As she went she remembered that Aaroe’s tongue had not been quite obedient when, after the liqueur, he had asked permission to go and smoke; surely he had not had a stroke.

They passed the smoking-room, which seemed to be full—­at all events of smoke and laughter.  The door of a little room by the side of it was opened; there lay Aksel Aaroe on a bed.  He must have slunk in there alone, perhaps to drink more; indeed, he had taken a short thick bottle in with him, which still stood on a table by the bed, on which he lay fully dressed with closed eyes and without sense or feeling.

“Tip, tip, Pete!” he said to her, and repeated it with outstretched finger, “Tip, tip, Pete!” He spoke in a falsetto voice.  Did he mean Peter?  Did he take her for a man?  Behind him on a pillow lay something hairy; it was a toupet; she now saw that he was bald on the crown.  “Tip, tip, Pete!” she heard as she rushed out.

Few people have felt smaller than Ella as she trudged along the country road, back to the town as fast as her short legs could carry her, in thin shoes and winter attire.  The heavy cloak which she had worn for driving was unfastened, she carried the shawl in her hand, but still the perspiration streamed off her; the idea was upon her that it was her dreams which were falling from her.