and something profoundly reassuring in its reserve. The cut of this
gentleman's mustache, with the two premature wrinkles in the cheek above
it, and the fashion of his garments, in which an exposed shirt-front
and a cerulean cravat played perhaps an obtrusive part, completed the
conditions of his identity. We have approached him, perhaps, at a not
especially favorable moment; he is by no means sitting for his portrait.
But listless as he lounges there, rather baffled on the aesthetic
question, and guilty of the damning fault (as we have lately discovered
it to be) of confounding the merit of the artist with that of his work
(for he admires the squinting Madonna of the young lady with the boyish
coiffure, because he thinks the young lady herself uncommonly taking),
he is a sufficiently promising acquaintance. Decision, salubrity,
jocosity, prosperity, seem to hover within his call; he is evidently a
practical man, but the idea in his case, has undefined and mysterious
boundaries, which invite the imagination to bestir itself on his behalf.

As the little copyist proceeded with her work, she sent every now and
then a responsive glance toward her admirer. The cultivation of the fine
arts appeared to necessitate, to her mind, a great deal of byplay, a
great standing off with folded arms and head drooping from side to side,
stroking of a dimpled chin with a dimpled hand, sighing and frowning
and patting of the foot, fumbling in disordered tresses for wandering
hair-pins. These performances were accompanied by a restless glance,
which lingered longer than elsewhere upon the gentleman we have
described. At last he rose abruptly, put on his hat, and approached the
young lady. He placed himself before her picture and looked at it for
some moments, during which she pretended to be quite unconscious of his
inspection. Then, addressing her with the single word which constituted
the strength of his French vocabulary, and holding up one finger in a
manner which appeared to him to illuminate his meaning, "Combien?" he