in the hedge, he paused,
drawing his cloak about him, and lifted his face to the eastern moon. It
was a strange face: the modelling most like what is called "Greek," save
for the nose, which was a trifle too short for that, and the features
showed a happy purity of outline almost childlike; the blue eyes,
clear, fleckless, serenely irresponsible, with more the look of refusing
responsibility than being unconscious of it; eyes without care, without
prudence, and without evil. A stranger might have said he was about
twenty-five and had never a thought in his life. There were some
blossoms on the hedge, and he touched one lightly, as though he chucked
it under the chin; he smiled upon it then, but not as he had smiled upon
Miss Betty, for this was his own, the smile that came when he was alone;
and, when it came, the face was no longer joyous as it had been in
repose; there was an infinite patience and worn tolerance-possibly for
himself. This incongruous and melancholy smile was astonishing: one
looked for the laughter of a boy and found, instead, a gentle, worldly,
old prelate.

Standing there, all alone in the moonlight, by the hedge, he lifted both
hands high and waved them toward the house, as children wave to each
other across lawns at twilight. After that he made a fantastic bow to
his corrugated shadow on the board sidewalk.

"Again, you rogue!" he exclaimed aloud. Then, as he faced about and
began to walk in the direction of the beckoning violins: "I wonder if
Tom's kitten was better, after all!"

CHAPTER III. The Rogue's Gallery of a Father Should be Exhibited to a
Daughter with Particular Care

Those angels appointed to be guardians of the merry people of Rouen,
poising one night, between earth and stars, discovered a single
brilliant and resonant spot, set in the midst of the dark, quiet town
like a jewelled music-box on a black cloth. Sounds of revelry and the
dance from the luminous spot came up through the summer stillness to the
weary guardians all night long, until, at last, when a red glow stole
into the east, and the dance still continued, nay, grew faster than
ever, the celestial watchers found the work too heavy for their
strength, and forthwith departed, leaving the dancers to their own
devices; for, as everyone knows, when a dance lasts till daylight,
guardian angels flee.

All night long the fiddles had been swinging away at their best; all
night long the candles had shone in thin rows of