The Reverberator

the merciless school, as it might have been called, found his predicament amusing and made no scruple of showing it. Gaston was too much in love, however, to be upset by a ba

tive way-and he knew it-of alluding to the rigidity of the conception of the family among people who had adopted and had even to Waterlow's sense, as the phrase is, improved upon the "Latin" ideal. That did injustice-and this the artist also knew-to the delicate nature of the bond uniting the different members of the house of Probert, who were each for all and all for each. Family feeling among them was not a tyranny but a religion, and in regard to Mesdames de Brecourt, de Cliche and de Douves what Gaston most f

was the other one?-the princess. These young amenities were exchanged between the pair-while Gaston explained, almost as eagerly as if he were scoring a point, that the other one was only a baronne-during that brief journey to Spain of which mention has already been made, during the later weeks of the summer, after their return (the friends then spent a fortnight together on the coast of Brittany), and above all during the autumn, when they were settled in Paris for the winter, when Mr. Dosson had reappeared, according to the engagement with his daughters, when the sittings for the portrait had multiplied (the painter was unscrupulous as to the number he demanded), and the work itself, born under a happy star, seemed to

was almost lyrical in his appreciation of his friend's work; he had no jealousy of the act of appropriation that rendered possible in its turn such an act of handing over, of which the canvas constituted the field. He was sure Waterlow painted the girl too well to be in love with her and that if he himself could have dealt with her in that fashion he mightn't have wanted to deal in any other. She bloomed there on the easel with all the purity of life, and the artist had caught the very secret of her beauty. It was exactly the way in which her lover would have chosen to see her shown, and yet it had required a perfectly independent hand. Gaston mused on this mystery and somehow felt proud of the picture an

in them that one likes. I shan't love her more if they like her, but I shall love THEM more, and I care about that. You talk as a man who has nothing to consider. I've everything to co

al line and it was impossible to disconnect the poor girl from her appendages. Therefore the whole question must be approached by an oblique movement-it would never do to march straight up. The wedge should have a narrow end, which Gaston now made sure he had found. His sister Susan was another name for this subtle engine; he would break her in first and she would help him to break in the others. She was his favourite relation, his intimate friend-the most modern, the most Parisian and inflammable member of the family. She had no suite dans les idees, but she had perceptions, had imagination and humour, and was capable of generosity, of enthusiasm and even of blind infatuation. She had

s to a rabid curiosity, would express a desire also to enjoy a sight of so rare a creature; on which Waterlow might pronounce it all arrangeable if she would but come in some day when Miss Francie should sit. He would give her two or three dates and Gaston would see that she didn't let the opportunity pass. She would return alone-this time he wouldn't go with her-and she would be as taken as could be hoped or needed. Everything much depended on that, but it couldn't fail. The girl would have to take her, but the girl could be trusted, especially if she didn't know who the demonstrative French lady was, with her fine plain face, her hair so blond as to be nearly white, her vividly

his craft; she could dispose the floral tributes of homage with a hand of practice all her own. She was the reverse of egotistic and never spoke of herself; her success in life sprang from a much wiser adoption of pronouns. Waterlow, who liked her and had long wanted to paint her ugliness-it was a gold-mine of charm-had two opinions about her: one of which was that she knew a hundred times less than she

ie's image. "She's a little Renaissance statuette cast in silver, something of Jean Goujon or Germain Pilon." The young men exchanged

urally asked for news of the object of such enthusiasm. Gaston suffered Susan to answer all questions and was attentive to her account of the new beauty. She described his young friend almost as well as he would have done, from the point of view of her type, her graces, her plastic value, using various technica

ish to ascertain the uses to which she was adapted; meanwhile, he added, there was nothing he so much liked as to look at her, in the measure in which she would allow him. "Ah that may take you far!" their visitor cried as she got up to go; and the young man glanced at his sister to see if she too were ironic. But she seemed almost awkwardly free from alarm; if she had been suspicious it would have been easier to make his confession. When he came back from ac

and Jane and Margaret to do the same, and above all he wanted them to like her even as she, Susan, liked her. He was delighted she had been taken-he had been so taken himself. Mme. de Brecourt protested that she had reserved her independence of judgement, and he answered that if she thought M

't proposed for her?"

R dispositions, and she tells me that if I

wful little woman

t isn't a part of the affair. She's very

eep quiet. She's as commo

find words enough a moment ago to express that Francie's exquisite, and now you'll

e like that?" Mme. de Brecourt ask

ing better. And think of the delight of having that charming object be

can't pick up a wife like that-the first little American that comes along. You know I hoped you wouldn't marry at all-what a pity I think it

the young man returned,

ays had it, you're used to it and depend on it, it's a part of

. I shall have alw

e-poor

which will then make you find out how adorable she is. Then you'll like her, then you'll love her, then you'll see w

th such people," Mme. de Brecourt

yet in such a case as this you try to be stupid. Give that up; you might as well first as last, for the g

ust be rich, but he didn't mean to ask for a penny with her. American fortunes moreover were the last things to count u

en to

o your not asking for settl

ether to ask or whether to leave it alone. That's the sort of thing he

, if we lose you," Mme. de Br

othing. What position under the sun do I confer? There's a fatuity in our talking as if we could make grand terms. You and the others

hat we are-it doesn't need any explanation. We're as good as anything t

e to marry-when it comes

"-and Mme. de Breco

really French," ret

on; "only let her be the best of her kind. Let her be at least a gentle

ual of the first

er-with that ha

matter wit

ocument-it described them, it classed

yours. You don't even know how bad yours

all rests; but there we are, and the fact's insurmountable. It's simply impossible for us to live with vulgar people. It's a defect, no doubt; it's an immense inconvenience, and in the days we live in it's sadly against one's interest. But we're made like that and we must

ing restlessly in several turns about the room. At last he took up his hat. "I shall come to an understanding with he

f the door. "What do you mean by her father's being certainly rich

would never ask!" her br