A few moments later the gérant returned and, in a low voice,
requested them to accompany him.
They passed leisurely through the café, between tables where lowered
eyes seemed to deny any curiosity; but guests and waiters looked after
them after they had passed, and here and there people whispered
together--particularly two men who had followed them from the
sun-dial fountain in the rue Soleil d'Or to the Jardin Russe, across
the Place de la Concorde, and into the Café des Bulgars in the rue
Vilna.
On the stairs Neeland heard Sengoun still muttering to himself: "Certainly I am sick of cities and narrow strips of sky. What I need
is a thousand lances at a gallop, and a little Kirghiz horse between
my knees."