Театр

           Sheobservednowthathehadabeard,ablackcurlybeardandablackcurlymoustache,butthebeardgrewratheroddlyonhisface;thereweretwobarepatchesunderthecornersofhismouth.Itgavehimacuriouslook.Withhisblackhair,droopingeyelidsandratherlongnose,heremindedherofsomeoneshehadseen.Suddenlysheremembered,anditwassuchasurprisethatsheblurtedout:

           "D’youknow,Icouldn’tthinkwhoyouremindedmeof.You’restrangelylikeTitian’sportraitofFrancisIintheLouvre."

           "Withhislittlepig’seyes?"

           "No,notthem,yoursarelarge,Ithinkit’sthebeardchiefly."

           Sheglancedattheskinunderhiseyes;itwasfaintlyvioletandunwrinkled.Notwithstandingtheageingbeardhewasquiteayoungman;hecouldnothavebeenmorethanthirty.ShewonderedifhewasaSpanishGrandee.Hewasnotverywelldressed,butthenforeignersoftenweren’t,hisclothesmighthavecostaloteveniftheywerebadlycut,andhistie,thoughratherloud,sherecognizedasaCharvet.Whentheycametothecoffeeheaskedherwhetherhemightofferheraliqueur.

           "That’sverykindofyou.Perhapsit’llmakemesleepbetter."

           Heofferedheracigarette.Hiscigarette-casewassilver,thatputheroffalittle,butwhenhecloseditshesawthatinthecornerwasasmallcrowningold.Hemustbeacountorsomething.Itwasratherchic,havingasilvercigarette-casewithagoldcrownonit.Pityhehadtowearthosemodernclothes!Ifhe’dbeendressedlikeFrancisIhewouldreallylookverydistinguished.