"This is really absurd," I observed; "we must learn to control ourselves."
"We can't control an emotion of that strength, Harden. It's overwhelming. It's all the emotion we had before concentrated into a single expression. No, it's going to be a nuisance."
"The worst of it is that we cannot foresee it. We get no warning. It springs out of the unknown like a tiger."
We walked slowly across the Circus. It was thronged with a night crowd, and seemed like some strange octagonal room, walled by moving coloured lights. Here lay a scene that remained eternally the same whatever the conditions of life—a scene that neither war, nor pestilence, nor famine could change. We stood by the fountain, immersed in our thoughts. "I used to enjoy this kind of thing," said Sarakoff at length.
"And now?"
"Now it is curiously meaningless—absolutely indecipherable."
We walked on and entered Coventry Street. Here Sarakoff suddenly pushed open a door and I followed him. We found ourselves in a brilliantly illuminated restaurant. A band was playing. We sat down at an unoccupied table.
"Harden, I wish to try an experiment. I want to see if, by an effort, we can get back to the old point of view."
He beckoned to the waiter and ordered champagne, cognac, oysters and caviare. Then he leaned back in his seat and smiled.
"Somehow I feel it won't work," I began.