The kettle-drums at the place of amusement were rattling out delight far into the air. From the menagerie close by brayed a shrieking trumpet, and the street outside was black with people.
It is not easy to say why it should have been so, but uneasiness again took possession of him.
In the illuminated entrance the strings and lines of lamps shone with an uncertain light in the raw gusty evening air; whole and half lines grew dim and almost went out, and then flared up again with a glare over the snow and the inpouring streams of people.
He could only advance at a foot's pace here; but while he slowly worked his way in, he looked all round. He only needed to see the outline of the figure he was looking for.
She was not among the people standing outside.
It was almost tiresome, now he had made up his mind he should see her.
He began to think of going to the booths to look for her there, and his glance wandered indifferently over the people.
She?—that rosy, laughing girl in there in the garden, with the round hat and the bit of boa round her neck over her jacket, was no other than Gunda!
He held his breath, as if he expected the next moment to see others in the crowd there among the lamps.
"Have you a ticket? Garden or ball?" he was asked at the entrance.