Antoine, been struck by the beauty of the Composer's Nocturne in F
heard at some student's concert; having made enquiries concerning
their haunts, had chosen this method of introducing himself. The
young men made room for him with feelings of hope mingled with
curiosity. The affable Stranger called for liqueurs, and handed
round his cigar-case. And almost his first words brought them joy.
"Before we go further," said the smiling Stranger, "it is my pleasure
to inform you that all three of you are destined to become great."
The liqueurs to their unaccustomed palates were proving potent. The
Stranger's cigars were singularly aromatic. It seemed the most
reasonable thing in the world that the Stranger should be thus able
to foretell to them their future.
"Fame, fortune will be yours," continued the agreeable Stranger.
"All things delightful will be to your hand: the adoration of women,
the honour of men, the incense of Society, joys spiritual and
material, beauteous surroundings, choice foods, all luxury and ease,
the world your pleasure-ground."
The stained walls of the dingy restaurant were fading into space
before the young men's eyes. They saw themselves as gods walking in
the garden of their hearts' desires.
"But, alas," went on the Stranger--and with the first note of his
changed voice the visions vanished, the dingy walls came back--"these
things take time. You will, all three, be well past middle-age
before you will reap the just reward of your toil and talents.
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