Four Meetings | Page 6

smiled with her softly severe little lips as she spoke those last
words. But I, looking at her with a purpose, saw just a tiny gleam of

apprehension in her eye.
"Don't tell me," I said, "that this wretched man is going to give you bad
news!"
"I suspect it is a little bad, but I don't believe it is very bad. At any rate,
I must listen to it."
I looked at her again an instant. "You did n't come to Europe to listen,"
I said. "You came to see!" But now I was sure her cousin would come
back; since he had something disagreeable to say to her, he certainly
would turn up. We sat a while longer, and I asked her about her plans
of travel She had them on her fingers' ends, and she told over the names
with a kind of solemn distinctness: from Paris to Dijon and to Avignon,
from Avignon to Marseilles and the Cornice road; thence to Genoa, to
Spezia, to Pisa, to Florence, to Home. It apparently had never occurred
to her that there could be the least incommodity in her travelling alone;
and since she was unprovided with a companion I of course
scrupulously abstained from disturbing her sense of security. At last her
cousin came back. I saw him turn towards us out of a side street, and
from the moment my eyes rested upon him I felt that this was the bright
American art-student. He wore a slouch hat and a rusty black velvet
jacket, such as I had often encountered in the Rue Bonaparte. His
shirt-collar revealed the elongation of a throat which, at a distance, was
not strikingly statuesque. He was tall and lean; he had red hair and
freckles. So much I had time to observe while he approached the café,
staring at me with natural surprise from under his umbrageous coiffure.
When he came up to us I immediately introduced myself to him as an
old acquaintance of Miss Spencer. He looked at me hard with a pair of
little red eyes, then he made me a solemn bow in the French fashion,
with his sombrero.
"You were not on the ship?" he said.
"No, I was not on the ship. I have been in Europe these three years."
He bowed once more, solemnly, and motioned me to be seated again. I
sat down, but it was only for the purpose of observing him an instant; I

saw it was time I should return to my sister. Miss Spencer's cousin was
a queer fellow. Nature had not shaped him for a Raphaelesque or
Byronic attire, and his velvet doublet and naked neck were not in
harmony with his facial attributes. His hair was cropped close to his
head; his ears were large and ill-adjusted to the same. He had a
lackadaisical carriage and a sentimental droop which were peculiarly at
variance with his keen, strange-colored eyes. Perhaps I was prejudiced,
but I thought his eyes treacherous. He said nothing for some time; he
leaned his hands on his cane and looked up and down the street Then at
last, slowly lifting his cane and pointing with it, "That's a very nice bit,"
he remarked, softly. He had his head on one side, and his little eyes
were half closed. I followed the direction of his stick; the object it
indicated was a red cloth hung out of an old window. "Nice bit of
color," he continued; and without moving his head he transferred his
half-closed gaze to me. "Composes well," he pursued. "Make a nice
thing." He spoke in a hard vulgar voice.
"I see you have a great deal of eye," I replied. "Your cousin tells me
you are studying art." He looked at me in the same way without
answering, and I went on with deliberate urbanity, "I suppose you are at
the studio of one of those great men."
Still he looked at me, and then he said softly, "Gérôme."
"Do you like it?" I asked.
"Do you understand French?" he said.
"Some kinds," I answered.
He kept his little eyes on me; then he said, "J'adore la peinture!"
"Oh, I understand that kind!" I rejoined. Miss Spencer laid her hand
upon her cousin's arm with a little pleased and fluttered movement; it
was delightful to be among people who were on such easy terms with
foreign tongues. I got up to take leave, and asked Miss Spencer where,
in Paris, I might have the honor of waiting upon her. To what hotel
would she go?

She turned to her cousin inquiringly, and he honored me again with his
little languid leer. "Do you know the Hôtel des Princes?"
"I know where it is."
"I shall take her there."
"I congratulate you," I said