"Of course."
"Ah! it is almost a sensation to be believed ... for speaking the truth. I feel as if I have committed some exotic sin. Yes, confession is good for the soul."
"Shall we go back to the hotel?"
The Baron leaned forward and grasped Dorn's hand feverishly.
"I do not wish to joke any more," he whispered. "I have told you the truth. And you still smile at me. You are a curious man. I have for long sat like an exile surrounded by my villainies and smiling alone at the world. But it is impossible to live alone, to become someone whom nobody knows, whom trusting people mistake for someone else. I have wanted to be known as I am ... but have been afraid. Ah! I am very drunk ... for you seem still amused."
Dorn squeezed his hand.
"Yes, you are my first friend," he said. The Baron followed him to his feet. They were silent on the way to the hotel. Von Stinnes walked with his arm linked in Dorn's. Before the latter's room he halted.
"Good night, sweet prince," he mumbled drowsily, "and may angels guard thy sleep."
Alone, he moved unsteadily down the hall.
Mathilde was gone. Moving about the room, Dorn found a note left for him. He read: