“I say,” cried Olive, rushing to catch Helena and Louisa by the arm, “look—look—both of you—look at that hat!” A lady in front was wearing on her hat a wild and dishevelled array of peacock feathers. “It’s the sight of a lifetime. I wouldn’t have you miss it,” added Olive in hoarse _sotto voce_. “Indeed not!” cried Helena, turning in wild exasperation to look. “Get a good view of it, Olive. Let’s have a good mental impression of it—one that will last.” “That’s right, dear,” said Olive, somewhat nonplussed by this outburst. Siegmund had escaped with the heaviest two bags. They could see him ahead, climbing the steps. Olive readjusted herself from the wildly animated to the calmly ironical. “After all, dear,” she said, as they hurried in the tail of the crowd, “it’s not half a bad idea to get a man on the job.” Louisa laughed aloud at this vulgar conception of Siegmund. “Just now, at any rate,” she rejoined. As they reached the platform the train ran in before them. Helena watched anxiously for an empty carriage. There was not one. “Perhaps it is as well,” she thought. “We needn’t talk. There will be three-quarters of an hour at Waterloo. If we were alone. Olive would make Siegmund talk.” She found a carriage with four people, and hastily took possession. Siegmund followed her with the bags. He swung these on the rack, and then quickly received the rugs, umbrellas, and packages from the other two. These he put on the seats or anywhere, while Helena stowed them. She was very busy for a moment or two; the racks were full. Other people entered; their luggage was troublesome to bestow. When she turned round again she found Louisa and Olive seated, but Siegmund was outside on the platform, and the door was closed. He saw her face move as if she would cry to him. She restrained herself, and immediately called: “You are coming? Oh, you are coming to Waterloo?” He shook his head. “I cannot come,” he said. She stood looking blankly at him for some moments, unable to reach the door because of the portmanteau thrust through with umbrellas and sticks, which stood on the floor between the knees of the passengers. She was helpless. Siegmund was repeating deliriously in his mind: “Oh—go—go—go—when will she go?” He could not bear her piteousness. Her presence made him feel insane. “Would you like to come to the window?” a man asked of Helena kindly.