They tried to stop her, but it was useless. She swept down the room, taking not the slightest notice of Macheson and his companion, a spot of angry colour burning in her cheeks. Davenant and Mademoiselle Rosine stood up, preparing to follow her. The former shouted to Macheson, who brought his partner up to their table and poured her out a glass of champagne. "Ella's gone!" Davenant exclaimed. "You'll catch it!" Macheson smiled. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Are you off too?" "As soon as the Johnny brings the bill," Davenant answered. "I'll settle up," Macheson declared. "Take the automobile. I'll follow you in a few minutes." Mademoiselle Flossie, called back to her own table, hurried off with a parting squeeze of Macheson's hand. He sat down alone for a moment. At the other end of the room, a darkey with a doll's hat upon his head was singing a coon song! CHAPTER V THE AWAKENING Alone for the first moment of the evening, it seemed to Macheson that a sudden wave of confounding thoughts surged into his brain, at war from the first with all that was sensuous and brilliant in this new and swiftly developed phase of his personality. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when again he opened them it seemed indeed as though a miracle had taken place. The whole atmosphere of the room was changed. He looked around, incredulous, amazed. The men especially were different. Such good fellows as they had seemed a few moments ago--from his altered point of view Macheson regarded them now in scornful curiosity. Their ties were awry, their hair was ruffled, their faces were paled or flushed. The laughter of women rang still through the place, but the music had gone from their mirth. It seemed to him that he saw suddenly through the smiles that wreathed their lips, saw underneath the barren mockery of it all. This hideous travesty of life in its gentler moods had but one end--the cold, relentless path to oblivion. Louder and louder the laughter rang, until Macheson felt that he must close his ears. The Devil was using his whip indeed. Mademoiselle la Danseuse, seeing him alone, paused at his table on her way through the room. "Monsieur is _triste_," she remarked, "because his friends have departed." Macheson shook his head. "I am off, too, in a few minutes," he answered. A waiter with immovable face slipped a note into his hand, under cover of presenting the bill. Macheson read it and glanced across the room. Mademoiselle Flossie was watching him with uplifted eyebrows and expectant smile. Macheson shook his head, slightly but unmistakably. The young lady in blue shrugged her shoulders and pouted. Mademoiselle la Danseuse was watching him curiously. "I wonder," she said softly, "why monsieur comes here." "In search of pleasure," Macheson answered grimly.