There was one old gentleman in particular, as inveterate as myself, who
especially aroused my interest. A courteous, punctual, mild old man with an
air which deprecated notice; who conversed each evening for a minute or two
with the proprietor, as he rolled, always at the same hour, a valedictory
cigarette, in a language that arrested my ear by its strangeness; and which
proved to be his own, Hungarian; who addressed a brief remark to me at
times, half apologetically, in the precisest of English. We sat next each
other at the same table, came and went at much the same hour; and for a
long while our intercourse was restricted to formal courtesies; mutual
inquiries after each other's health, a few urbane strictures on the
climate. The little old gentleman in spite of his aspect of shabby
gentility,--for his coat was sadly inefficient, and the nap of his
carefully brushed hat did not indicate prosperity--perhaps even because of
this suggestion of fallen fortunes, bore himself with pathetic erectness,
almost haughtily. He did not seem amenable to advances. It was a long time
before I knew him well enough to value rightly this appearance, the timid
defences, behind which a very shy and delicate nature took refuge from the
world's coarse curiosity.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142