perhaps, a very lofty achievement--but such as it is, it requires a
somewhat rare combination of social and physical gifts in the wearer;
and the possession of either Semitic or African blood does not seem to
be one of these.

[Illustration: "PORTRAIT CHARMANT, PORTRAIT DE MON AMIE ..."]

Colonel Ibbetson could do a little of everything--sketch (especially a
steam-boat on a smooth sea, with beautiful thick smoke reflected in the
water), play the guitar, sing chansonnettes and canzonets, write society
verses, quote De Musset--

_"Avez-vous vu dans Barcelone
Une Andalouse au sein bruni?"_

He would speak French whenever he could, even to an English ostler, and
then recollect himself suddenly, and apologize for his thoughtlessness;
and even when he spoke English, he would embroider it with little
two-penny French tags and idioms: "Pour tout potage"; "Nous avons change
tout cela"; "Que diable allait-il faire dans cette galere?" etc.; or
Italian, "Chi lo sa?" "Pazienza!" "Ahime!" or even Latin, "Eheu
fugaces," and "Vidi tantum!" for he had been an Eton boy. It must have
been very cheap Latin, for I could always understand it myself! He drew
the line at German and Greek; fortunately, for so do I. He was a
bachelor, and his domestic arrangements had been irregular, and I will
not dwell upon them; but his house, as far as it went, seemed to promise
better things.

His architect, Mr. Lintot, an extraordinary little man, full of genius
and quite self-made, became my friend and taught me to smoke, and drink