h appeared to underlie his courteous manner, and
I had thought it was part of the strange temper he was said to possess.
Treating his colleagues and all whom he met with the utmost affability,
never sullenly silent and often even brilliant in conversation, he
nevertheless had struck me as a man who hated and despised his
fellow-creatures. There had been then a sort of scornful, defiant look
on his large features, which inevitably repelled a stranger until he
began to talk. But he understood eminently the science of making himself
agreeable, and, when he chose, few could so well lead conversation
without imposing themselves upon their hearers. I well remembered the
disdainful coldness of his face when he was listening to some one else,
and I recollected how oddly it contrasted with his courteous forbearing
speech. He would look at a man who made a remark with a cynical stare,
and then in the very next moment would agree with him, and produce
excellent arguments for doing so. One felt that the man's own nature was
at war with itself, and that, while forcing himself to be sociable, he
despised society. It was a thing so evident that I used to avoid looking
at him, because his expression was so unpleasant.

But as I saw him seated by Hermione's side, playing with the great hound
at his feet, and talking quietly with his companion, I was forcibly
struck by the change. His face could not be said to have softened; but
instead of the cold, defiant sneer which had formerly been peculiar to
him, his look was now very grave, and from time to time a pleasant light
passed quickly over his features. Watching him now, I could not fancy
him either violent or eccentric in temper, as he was said to be. It was
as though the real nature of the man had got the better of some malady.

"This is like home," I heard him say. "How happy you must be!"

"Yes, I am very happy," answered Hermione. "I have only one unhappiness
in my life."

"What is that?"

"Poor aunt Annie," said the girl. "I am so dreadfully sorry for her."
The words were spoken in a low tone, and Mrs. Carvel said something to
me just then, so that I could not hear Patoff's answer. But while
talking with my hostess I noticed his earnest manner, and that he seemed
to be telling some story which interested Hermione intensely. His voice
dropped to a lower key, and I heard no more, though he talked for a long
time, as I thought. Then Macaulay Carvel and Professor Cutter entered
th