A few moments later the gérant returned and, in a low voice,

requested them to accompany him.

They passed leisurely through the café, between tables where lowered

eyes seemed to deny any curiosity; but guests and waiters looked after

them after they had passed, and here and there people whispered

together--particularly two men who had followed them from the

sun-dial fountain in the rue Soleil d'Or to the Jardin Russe, across

the Place de la Concorde, and into the Café des Bulgars in the rue

Vilna.

On the stairs Neeland heard Sengoun still muttering to himself: "Certainly I am sick of cities and narrow strips of sky. What I need

is a thousand lances at a gallop, and a little Kirghiz horse between

my knees."




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