I had seen them unanimous in demand for the merest trifle⁠—a treat, a holiday, a lesson’s remission; they could not, they would not now band to besiege Madame Beck, and insist on a last interview with a Master who had certainly been loved, at least by some⁠—loved as they could love⁠—but, oh! what is the love of the multitude?

I knew where he lived: I knew where he was to be heard of, or communicated with; the distance was scarce a stone’s-throw; had it been in the next room⁠—unsummoned, I could make no use of my knowledge. To follow, to seek out, to remind, to recall⁠—for these things I had no faculty.

M. Emanuel might have passed within reach of my arm: had he passed silent and unnoticing, silent and stirless should I have suffered him to go by.