It was this insight into Vincent's nature which drew us closer together.
I recognized in the man, who as yet was only playing a part, a
resemblance to myself, while he, perhaps, saw at times that I was
somewhat better than the voluptuary, and somewhat wiser than the coxcomb,
which were all that at present it suited me to appear.

In person, Vincent was short, and though not ill--yet ungracefully made--
but his countenance was singularly fine. His eyes were dark, bright and
penetrating, and his forehead (high and thoughtful) corrected the playful
smile of his mouth, which might otherwise have given to his features too
great an expression of levity. He was not positively ill dressed, yet he
paid no attention to any external art, except cleanliness. His usual garb
was a brown coat, much too large for him, a coloured neckcloth, a spotted
waistcoat, grey trowsers, and short gaiters: add to these gloves of most
unsullied doeskin, and a curiously thick cane, and the portrait is
complete.

In manners, he was civil, or rude, familiar, or distant, just as the whim
seized him; never was there any address less common, and less artificial.
What a rare gift, by the by, is that of manners! how difficult to define-
-how much more difficult to impart! Better for a man to possess them,
than wealth, beauty, or talent; they will more than supply all. No
attention is too minute, no labour too exaggerated, which tends to
perfect them. He who enjoys their advantages in the highest degree, viz.,
he who can please, penetrate, persuade, as the object may require,
possesses the subtlest secret of the diplomatist and the statesman, and
wants nothing but opportunity to become "great."