Two or three weeks passed.One morning,having come to a pause in my work,I thought I would give myself a holiday,and I went to the Louvre.I wandered about looking at the pictures I knew so well,and let my fancy play idly with the emotions they suggested.I sauntered into the long gallery,and there suddenly saw Stroeve.I smiled,for his appearance,so rotund and yet so startled,could never fail to excite a smile,and then as I came nearer I noticed that he seemed singularly disconsolate.He looked woebegone and yet ridiculous,like a man who has fallen into the water with all his clothes on,and,being rescued from death,frightened still,feels that he only looks a fool.Turning round,he stared at me,but I perceived that he did not see me.His round blue eyes looked harassed behind his glasses.

　　‘Stroeve’,I said.

　　He gave a little start,and then smiled,but his smile was rueful.

　　‘Why are you idling in this disgraceful fashion?’I asked gaily.

　　‘It......