CHAPTER I

A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT He sat in the taxi, leaning forward, his hat still cocked, like a pirate who has escaped, against his expectations, with all his booty intact. His soul was, indeed, divided--one half of it cried, 'To Nathalie! To Nathalie!' The other half of it called, 'To Freedom! To Freedom!'--and it is this divided domination which has bewildered artists since the first trembling of this star. Martha knew also that the chief event of her life had just occurred. She too sat forward, her tongue out, her eye…