straight line of the nose level with the forehead, the eyes lost in
the depth of the setting, and the chin well forward, had such a
profile as may be seen amongst the bronzes of classical museums,
pure under a crested helmet--recalled vaguely a Minerva's head.

"This is the most troublesome time I ever had in my life,"
exclaimed the professor testily.

"Surely the man must be worth it," muttered Renouard with a pang of
jealousy traversing his breast like a self-inflicted stab.

Whether enervated by the heat or giving way to pent up irritation
the professor surrendered himself to the mood of sincerity.

"He began by being a pleasantly dull boy. He developed into a
pointlessly clever young man, without, I suspect, ever trying to
understand anything. My daughter knew him from childhood. I am a
busy man, and I confess that their engagement was a complete
surprise to me. I wish their reasons for that step had been more
naive. But simplicity was out of fashion in their set. From a
worldly point of view he seems to have been a mere baby. Of
course, now, I am assured that he is the victim of his noble
confidence in the rectitude of his kind. But that's mere
idealising of a sad reality. For my part I will tell you that from
the very beginning I had the gravest doubts of his dishonesty.
Unfortunately my clever daughter hadn't. And now we behold the
reaction. No. To be earnestly dishonest one must be really poor.
This was only a manifestation of his extremely refined cleverness.
The complicated simpleton. He had an awful awakening though."