The square was covered with a noisy, vivacious crowd. Every one noticed that the Count du Nord, after having led the Countess straight from the theatre to the palace which had been prepared for them, was walking, wearing a mask, up and down, a little out of the way of the crowd, with a very tall foreigner, also masked, whom Glück himself had presented to him at the opera. The full moon shed her silvery light, and all around there were many coloured fires and lamps. The noise and chattering of the mixed crowd failed to attract the attention of the two interlocutors. “Who is that?” asked a lady of her husband, turning his attention to the fact that the Count du Nord was attentively listening to the conversation of the foreigner by his side. “Don’t you know him again--the friend of Glück--our celebrated necromancer, our raiser of ghosts?” Pavel was very much agitated, and in a bad humour. He had wanted to make fun of the stranger, but the recollection of a certain fact had involuntarily embarrassed him. “You, Enchanter, living, according to your own words, an innumerable number of years,” said he, very politely, although in a slightly mocking tone; “you are in connection not only with the living, but with those beyond the tomb. That is, doubtless, one of your jokes, and I, of course, do not believe one word of it,” he added, trying to be very amiable; “it would be silly to believe such tales. But there are tales and tales, you understand me?… I should very much like to question you concerning a certain incident.…” “I am at your orders,” said the stranger. “For instance,--and this is quite a conversation _àpropos_,” continued the Count du Nord; “I have always been very much interested in the supernatural, especially in the inexplicable interference of supernatural agents in our intellectual life. I should very much like … I would ask you, as we have met so unexpectedly, to explain to me one very mysterious event, a very strange meeting.…” “I am quite at your service,” answered the stranger, politely bowing. His companion walked on a few steps silently. Pavel struggled within himself, trying to trip up the conjurer, and at the same time to stifle in his own heart something very sad, torturing, which was perhaps one of his mental tribulations. Raising his mask, he wiped his brow. “I once saw a spirit,” he said, hesitatingly, unable to restrain his emotion; “I saw a shadow, sacred to me.…” The stranger bowed slightly, following Pavel, who turned the corner of the square to the dimly-lighted river side.