"What's that?" he cried, after he had greeted Lady Merivale. "Was that
Leroy declaiming against the world? It's for those in his position to
bewail its vanities, while poor dev--I beg your pardon, Lady
Merivale--poor men like myself can only cry for them."
Adrien smiled.
"Quite right, Jasper. I'm wrong, as usual.
"Mr. Vermont," said Lord Merivale, "you remind me of the clown in the
beloved pantomime of my youth."
"An innocent memory that, at least, my lord," returned Vermont, who
never stayed his tongue in the matter of a repartee for lord or
commoner. "May I ask why?"
"You always enter the room with a joke or an epigram," was the answer.
Mr. Vermont smiled.
"'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players,'"
he quoted lightly, as he turned his attention to the unfortunate
"Portrait of a gentleman." "Ah, what have we here--another picture? An
old master, I presume?"
The artists looked pleased; it would seem as if even the great
connoisseur himself was liable to make mistakes.
"It is ugly enough, in all conscience," he continued bluntly. "For my
part, I am an utter philistine, and like my art to be the same as my
furniture--new, pretty to look at, and comfortable, and, for the life of
me, I can't fall in love with a snub-nosed Catherine de Medici, or a
muscular apostle.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188