charge, and Gaston saw what a strange figure he looked beside the other
servants and in these fine surroundings. He could not think that himself
was so bizarre. Nor was he. But he looked unusual; as one of high
civilisation might, through long absence in primitive countries, return
in uncommon clothing, and with a manner of distinguished strangeness: the
barbaric to protect the refined, as one has seen a bush of firs set to
shelter a wheat-field from a seawind, or a wind-mill water cunningly-
begotten flowers.

As he went through the hall other visitors were entering. They passed
him, making for the staircase. Ladies with the grand air looked at him
curiously, and two girls glanced shyly from the jingling spurs and
tasselled boots to his rare face.

One of the ladies suddenly gave a little gasping cry, and catching the
arm of her companion, said:

"Reine, how like Robert Belward! Who--who is he?"

The other coolly put up her pince-nez. She caught Gaston's profile and
the turn of his shoulder.

"Yes, like, Sophie; but Robert never had such a back, nor anything like
the face."

She spoke with no attempt to modulate her voice, and it carried
distinctly to Gaston. He turned and glanced at them.

"He's a Belward, certainly, but like what one I don't know; and he's
terribly eccentric, my dear! Did you see the boots and the sash? Why,