The Author of Beltraffio : Large Print

I surveyed him, askance, as we walked together; I had already, I had indeed instantly, seen him as all delightful.

His face is so well known that I needn't describe it; he looked to me at once an English gentleman and a man of genius, and I thought that a happy combination.

There was a brush of the Bohemian in his fineness; you would easily have guessed his belonging to the artist guild.

He was addicted to velvet jackets, to cigarettes, to loose shirt-collars, to looking a little dishevelled.

His features, which were firm but not perfectly regular, are fairly enough represented in his portraits; but no portrait I have seen gives any idea of his expression.

There were innumerable things in it, and they chased each other in and out of his face.

I have seen people who were grave and gay in quick alternation; but Mark Ambient was grave and gay at one and the same moment.

There were other strange oppositions and contradictions in his slightly faded and fatigued countenance.

He affected me somehow as at once fresh and stale, at once anxious and indifferent.

He had evidently had an active past, which inspired one with curiosity; yet what was that compared to his obvious future?

He was just enough above middle height to be spoken of as tall, and rather lean and long in the flank.

He had the friendliest frankest manner possible, and yet I could see it cost him something.

It cost him small spasms of the self-consciousness that is an Englishman's last and dearest treasure-the thing he pays his way through life by sacrificing small pieces of even as the gallant but moneyless adventurer in "Quentin Durward" broke off links of his brave gold chain.

He had been thirty-eight years old at the time "Beltraffio" was published.

He asked me about his friend in America, about the length of my stay in England, about the last news in London and the people I had seen there; and I remember looking for the signs of genius in the very form of his questions and thinking I found it.

I liked his voice as if I were somehow myself having the use of it.