were on.
One could merely see that there were pictures there. Fred whispered that
they were Rousseaus and Corots, very fine ones which the old banker had
bought long ago for next to nothing. In the hall Ottenburg had stopped
Thea before a painting of a woman eating grapes out of a paper bag, and
had told her gravely that there was the most beautiful Manet in the
world. He made her take off her hat and gloves in the hall, and looked
her over a little before he took her in. But once they were in the
library he seemed perfectly satisfied with her and led her down the long
room to their hostess.

Mrs. Nathanmeyer was a heavy, powerful old Jewess, with a great
pompadour of white hair, a swarthy complexion, an eagle nose, and sharp,
glittering eyes. She wore a black velvet dress with a long train, and a
diamond necklace and earrings. She took Thea to the other side of the
table and presented her to Mr. Nathanmeyer, who apologized for not
rising, pointing to a slippered foot on a cushion; he said that he
suffered from gout. He had a very soft voice and spoke with an accent
which would have been heavy if it had not been so caressing. He kept
Thea standing beside him for some time. He noticed that she stood
easily, looked straight down into his face, and was not embarrassed.
Even when Mrs. Nathanmeyer told Ottenburg to bring a chair for Thea, the
old man did not release her hand, and she did not sit down. He admired
her just as she was, as she happened to be standing, and she felt it. He
was much handsomer than his wife, Thea thought. His forehead was high,
his hair soft and white, his skin pink, a little puffy under his clear
blue eyes. She noticed how warm and delicate his hands were, pleasant to
touch and beautiful to look at. Ottenburg had told her that Mr.
Nathanmeyer had a very fine collection of medals and cameos, and his
fingers looked as if they had never touched anything but delicately cut
surfaces.

He asked Thea where Moonstone was; how many inhabitants it had; what her
father's business was; from what part of Sweden her grandfather came;
and whether she spoke Swedish as a child. He was interested to hear that
her mother's mother was still living, and that her grandfather had
played the oboe. Thea felt at home standing there beside him; she felt
that he was very wise, and that he some way took one's life up and
looked it over kindly, as if it were a story. She was sorry when they
left him to go into the music-room.