He stood with his back against a window-frame, almost enveloped in the flowing red silk curtain, so that scarcely any one noticed him.

His curls had been shorn, and his thick dark hair only just waved, otherwise nothing was changed in his appearance since the Hornberg days.

His black eyes wandered thoughtfully over the changing picture before him.

The expression on his face, now slightly melancholy, bore more resemblance to that of a young Christian devotee than to that of the beautiful Antinous, and the intoxication of the gayety around him appealed so little to him, that not once did he beat his foot, nod his head, or move a muscle in time to the satanic music of the Parisian enchanter.
For the first time in his life Wilhelm found himself in fashionable society, and for the first time he wore evening dress.

Certainly to look at him no one would have guessed it, for there was no awkwardness in his manner, not a trace of the anxiety and inability to do the right thing, which in most men placed amid new surroundings and in unaccustomed dress would have been so apparent.