description of Verlaine in Memories and Opinions—"I shall not forget the glare of the bald prominent forehead (une tête glabre). . . ." That was the phrase now, une tête glabre—the forehead glaring like a challenge, the red hair springing from it like something alive of its own independence. For the rest this interesting figure had a body round, short and fat like a ball. Over his protruding stomach stretched a white waistcoat with three little plain black buttons. 

 The colour of his face had an unnatural pallor, something theatrical like the clown in Pagliacci, or again, like one of Benda's masks. Yes, this was the truer comparison, because through the mask the eyes were alive and beautiful, dark, tender, eloquent, but spoilt because above them the eyebrows were so faint as to be scarcely visible. The mouth in the white of the face was a thin hard red scratch. The eyes stared into the garden. The body soon became painted into the window behind it, the round short limbs, the shining shoes, the little black pearl in the gleaming shirt. 

 Harkness, from the shadow where he stood, looked and looked again. Then, fearing that he might be perceived and his stare be held offensive, he moved forward. The man saw him and, to Harkness's surprise, stepped forward and spoke to him. 

 "I beg your pardon," he said; "but do you happen to have a light? My cigarette did not catch properly and I have used my last match." 

 Here was another surprise for Harkness. The voice was the most beautiful that he had ever heard from man. Soft, exquisitely melodious, with an inflection in it of friendliness, courtesy and culture that was enchanting. Absolutely without affectation. 

 "Why, yes. Certainly," said Harkness. 

 He felt for his little gold matchbox, found it, produced a match and, guarding it with his hand, struck it. In the light the other's forehead suddenly sprang up again like a live thing. For an instant two of his fingers rested on Harkness's hand. They seemed to be so soft as to be quite boneless. 

 "Thank you. What an exquisite evening!" 

 "Yes," said Harkness. "This is a very beautiful place." 

 "Yes," said the other, "is it not? And this is incidentally the best hotel in England." 

 The voice was so beautiful to Harkness, who was exceedingly sensitive to sound, that his only desire was that by some means he should prolong 

 Prev. P 37/170 next