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296 his life: he felt that clearly. Mathilde, Mathilde was not. For Mathilde, as he now walked behind her and Johan, he felt only the curiosity to analyze and classify the nature of the disease, nothing but that. Even the jealousy died away in him, the child of his jealous parents. . . . He continued to follow them. He saw Erzeele put his arm through Mathilde's.

He now quickened his pace slightly. His heels rang on the pavement through the night air, regularly, faster than before. The two in front looked round. They gave a start. He caught them up:

"I seemed to recognize you . . . in the distance," he said, calmly and naturally, while they were unable to speak and Erzeele withdrew his arm.

"I have come from the station."

"I didn't expect you till to-morrow," said Mathilde, faintly, in spite of herself.

"I finished earlier. Emilie is much more peaceful. . . . How are the children?"

"All right."

"Where have you been this evening?"

"I went and had tea at Johan's sister's. . . . Johan was seeing me home."

"But now that Van der Welcke's here . . . to see you home . . ." said Erzeele.

"Not at all," replied Addie. "Come a little way farther."

They walked on, Mathilde between the two men. Addie talked conventionally. They hardly answered. Meanwhile he observed them. His curiosity roused him, gave him a sudden new interest, as though he was treating a case of serious illness.

"I'll say good-bye here," said Erzeele, as they turned down the side-street.

They both shook hands with him and walked home more silently, suddenly dragging their feet.