He only needed to see the outline of the figure he was looking for.
She was not among the people standing outside.
It was almost tiresome, now he had made up his mind he should see her.
He began to think of going to the booths to look for her there, and his glance wandered indifferently over the people.
She ?--that rosy, laughing girl in there in the garden, with the round hat and the bit of boa round her neck over her jacket, was no other than Gunda! He held his breath, as if he expected the next moment to see others in the crowd there among the lamps.
"Have you a ticket?
Garden or ball ?" he was asked at the entrance.
Nikolai would like to have taken tickets for the whole thing; but the pence he had about him were only enough for the garden.
The row of lamps lighted up the snowy road to a crowded restaurant, from the first floor windows of which came the shrieks of a woman's soprano, followed every now and then by a storm of applause.

Farther on, a roundabout, crammed with people, was going round under an illuminated roof to the accompaniment of shrill music.
On both sides was a moving and, as regards the male portion, very miscellaneous and mixed crowd of fair-frequenters.
He searched the garden through, but in the darker paths outside the principal one, only a few loitering, shivering figures were to be seen, who seemed hovering like longing moths about the light.
It was down in that building, from which came sounds of music, the one to which all the people streamed and stood in a dense crowd outside, that the ball was going on.
All the blood in him seemed suddenly to stand still, and he approached slowly and hesitatingly, his face grey with apprehension.
He stood outside for a long time, gazing in at the large, lighted windows.

Dark shadows passed behind the blinds, an unceasing variety of heads and shoulders.
There where the blind was pulled a little to one side he saw the round-headed Gunda again; the back of her head was so near him that he would have liked to push the pane in and ask her where Silla was?
He felt the shaking of the floor and the music twice as much where he was standing; it was as if the whole ball had got into his head.
Now he caught a glimpse of a sloping shoulder and half a back in an overcoat, with a cane sticking out of the owner's pocket--and part of a fashionable hat-brim.
The figure was smoking a cigar and bending down as if to talk.
To whom ?--To whom?
For it was Ludvig Veyergang's, that narrow, straight back, that seemed in its pride as if it could not bend above the hips.
And then that way with his arm and his eye-glass.
Now he was gone; he must be dancing.
The clear glimpse he could get through the little opening in the blind was dimmed by moisture.

Only when a heavy drop ran down the pane in the heat inside, could he catch a fraction of a glimpse through the streak.
There came Veyergang's shadow, with stick and hat again, and lower down the crooked outline of a woman's head in lively gesticulation.
Again the figure with the stick disappeared, and Nikolai prepared to watch for it.
A drop just wept a smooth streak down the pane, and the next moment he caught a glimpse of a dancing figure--only a bent head and a half-hidden face.
He had seen enough--more than if he had had a hundred chandeliers to see by.
Immediately after, Nikolai was in the stream in front of the door.
It opened and closed incessantly to admit those who gave up tickets, and disclosed, in misty perspective, a miscellaneous confusion of hot, flushed faces.
Now and then a pair came out and hastened up to the large restaurant.
He heard both exclamations and taunts.
"Now then! now then!" came from the crowd.
Nikolai only worked his way towards the door.

If once he stood there--! "Ticket ?" Nikolai did not answer.
"Ticket, man?
Ticket ?" Nikolai only pressed boldly a step nearer.
The police-constable made a movement, but met a look in Nikolai's face which made him feel justified in restraining himself.