Yes, he was absolutely alone!  Everything was as it had been when he settled himself to sleep on the departure of the three strangers.  There, on the opposite seat, were their rugs, their fur-lined coats, their illustrated papers—­all the impedimenta of prosperous travellers; and there, on the rack above them, was his own modest hand-bag without initials or label—­a common little bag that might have belonged to some poor Russian clerk or held the possessions of some needy Polish student.  The owner’s glance scanned and appraised it, then by suggestion fell to the plain rough overcoat that covered him from his neck to the tops of his high boots, and whose replica was to be seen any day in the meaner streets of Petersburg or Moscow.  Like the bag, it was a little strange, a little incongruous in its comfortable surroundings—­a little savoring of mystery.

The traveller’s pulses quickened, his being lifted to the moment, for in his soul was the spark of adventure, in his eyes the adventurous look—­fearless, observant, questioning.  In composition, in expression and essence, this boy was that free and fascinating creature, the born adventurer—­high of courage, prodigal of emotion, capturer of the world’s loot.

The spirit within him shone out in the moment of solitude; he passed his hands down the front, of his coat, revelling in its coarse texture; he rose to his feet, turned to the sheet of gray, misted glass, and, letting down the window, leaned out into the night.

The scene was vague and ghostly, but to eyes accustomed to northern whiteness it was full of suggestion, full of secrecy; to nostrils accustomed to keen, rarefied air there was something poignant and delicious in the scent of turned earth, the savor of vegetation.  He could see little or nothing as the train rocked and the landscape tore past, but the atmosphere spoke to him as it speaks to blind men, penetrating his consciousness.  Here were open spaces, tracts of country fructifying for the spring to come.  A land of promise—­of growth—­of fulfilment!

He closed his eyes, living in the suggestion, and his spirit sped forward with the onrush of the train.  Somewhere beyond the darkness lay the land of his desires!  Somewhere behind the veil shone the lights of Paris!  With a quick, exulting excitement he laughed; but even as the laugh was caught and scattered to the winds by the thunder of the engine, his bearing changed, the excitement dropped from him, a mask of immobility fell upon his face, and he wheeled round from the window.  The card-playing travellers had opened the door of the carriage.

From his shadowy corner the boy eyed them; and they, alert from their game, slightly dazed by the darkness of the carriage, peered back at him, frankly curious.  When they had left the compartment he had been a huddled figure demanding no attention; now he was awake and an individual, and human nature prompted interest.

Each in turn looked at him, and at each new glance his coldness of demeanor deepened; until, as the eldest of the party came down the carriage and appropriated the seat beside him, he turned away, pulling up the window with resentful haste.