About noon, next day, he was able to move; and the gale having abated, he set out homewards with his little charge. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. He did not move. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. "This is the gentleman," observed Jonathan, introducing Trenchard to the Hollander, "who is about to intrust his young relation to your care.
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