to attend its noun in a last-century poet's dictionary. One would not
have it away; one can hear the caress with which the master pronounces
it, "making his mouth," as Swift did for his "little language." Nor does
the customary adjective fail in later literature. It was dear to the
Realist, and it is dear to the Symbolist. The only difference is that in
the French of the Symbolist it precedes the noun.

And yet it is time that the sweetness of the dark child should have its
day. He is really no less childlike than the other. There is a pretty
antithesis between the strong effect of his colouring and the softness of
his years and of his months. The blond human being--man, woman or
child--has the beauty of harmony; the hair plays off from the tones of
the flesh, only a few degrees brighter or a few degrees darker. Contrast
of colour there is, in the blue of the eyes, and in the red of cheek and
lip, but there is no contrast of tone. The whole effect is that of much
various colour and of equal tone. In the dark face there is hardly any
colour and an almost complete opposition of tone. The complete
opposition, of course, would be black and white; and a beautiful dark
child comes near to this, but for the lovely modifications, the warmth of
his white, and of his black alike, so that the one tone, as well as the
other, is softened towards brown. It is the beauty of contrast, with a
suggestion of harmony--as it were a beginning of harmony--which is
infinitely lovely.

Nor is the dark child lacking in variety. His radiant eyes range from a
brown so bright that it looks golden in the light, to a brown so dark
that it barely defines the pupil. So is his hair various, answering the
sun with unsuspected touches, not of gold but of bronze. And his cheek
is not invariably pale. A dusky rose sometimes lurks there with such an
effect of vitality as you will hardly get from the shallower pink of the