He banged the table with the bottle of wine he was holding. Then, with great care and accuracy, he drew the cork.
"Your health!" he cried, raising his glass. "Ah, no! I have not sipped the wine. I change the toast. To Julia!"
Maraton rose to his feet, and turned his back upon the gloomy darkness which brooded over the city. He took the glass of wine which Selingman was holding out and leaned towards him earnestly.
"My friend," he said, "it seems strange to me that we speak of these things at such an hour. Yet let me tell you something. I don't know why I want to tell you, but I do. I am not, perhaps, quite what you think me. Only, the night you and I went north together, the gates of that world which you speak of so easily were closed behind me."
"It was the other woman," Selingman exclaimed.
"It was the other woman," Maraton echoed.
Selingman set down the bottle upon the table. Two great tears rolled down from his blue eyes. He held out both his hands and gripped Maraton's.
"My friend," he said, "now indeed I love you! We are twin souls. You,
too, are human as you are wonderful. You see what an old woman I am.
This sentiment—oh, it will be the end of me! But tell me—I must know.
It was because you went north that it was ended?"
Maraton nodded slowly.
"I chose the opposite camp," he answered. "What could I do?"