The first Step towards the Ladder. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Your maid would not be of the least protection. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. Ah, and put him under if he wakes up. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness.
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