The door opened,--and from the dense obscurity enshrouding me I could
just perceive a tall shadowy figure standing on the threshold. I
remember well the curious impression the mere outline of this scarcely
discerned Form made upon me even then,--suggesting at the first glance
such a stately majesty of height and bearing as at once riveted my
attention,--so much so indeed that I scarcely heard my landlady's
introductory words "A gentleman to see you sir,"--words that were
quickly interrupted by a murmur of dismay at finding the room in total
darkness. "Well to be sure! The lamp must have gone out!" she
exclaimed,--then addressing the personage she had ushered thus far, she
added--"I'm afraid Mr Tempest isn't in after all, sir, though I
certainly saw him about half-an-hour ago. If you don't mind waiting here
a minute I'll fetch a light and see if he has left any message on his
table."
She hurried away, and though I knew that of course I ought to speak, a
singular and quite inexplicable perversity of humour kept me silent and
unwilling to declare my presence. Meanwhile the tall stranger advanced a
pace or two, and a rich voice with a ring of ironical amusement in it
called me by my name--
"Geoffrey Tempest, are you there?"
Why could I not answer? The strangest and most unnatural obstinacy
stiffened my tongue,--and, concealed in the gloom of my forlorn literary
den I still held my peace. The majestic figure drew nearer, till in
height and breadth it seemed to suddenly overshadow me; and once again
the voice called--
"Geoffrey Tempest, are you there?"
For very shame's sake I could hold out no longer,--and with a determined
effort I broke the extraordinary dumb spell that had held me like a
coward in silent hiding, and came forward boldly to confront my visitor.
"Yes I _am_ here," I said--"And being here I am ashamed to give you such
a welcome as this. You are Prince Rimânez of course;--I have just read
your note which prepared me for your visit, but I was hoping that my
landlady, finding the room in darkness, would conclude I was out, and
show you downstairs again. You see I am perfectly frank!"
"You are indeed!" returned the stranger, his deep tones still vibrating
with the silvery clang of veiled satire--"So frank that I cannot fail to
understand you. Briefly, and without courtesy, you resent my visit this
evening and wish I had not come!"
This open declaration of my mood sounded so brusque that I made haste to
deny it, though I knew it to be true. Truth, even in trifles, always
seems unpleasant!
"Pray do not think me so churlish,"--I said--"The fact is, I only opened
your letter a few minutes ago, and before I could make any arrangements
to receive you, the lamp went out, with the awkward result that I am
forced to greet you in this unsociable darkness, which is almost too
dense to shake hands in."
"Shall we try?" my visitor enquired, with a sudden softening of accent
that gave his words a singular charm; "Here is my hand,--if yours has
any friendly instinct in it the twain will meet,--quite blindly and
without guidance!"
I at once extended my hand, and it was instantly clasped in a warm and
somewhat masterful manner. At that moment a light flashed on the
scene,--my landlady entered, bearing what she called 'her best lamp'
alit, and set it on the table. I believe she uttered some exclamation of
surprise at seeing me,--she may have said anything or nothing,--I did
not hear or heed, so entirely was I amazed and fascinated by the
appearance of the man whose long slender hand still held mine. I am
myself an average good height, but he was fully half a head taller than
I, if not more than that,--and as I looked straightly at him, I thought
I had never seen so much beauty and intellectuality combined in the
outward personality of any human being. The finely shaped head denoted
both power and wisdom, and was nobly poised on such shoulders as might
have befitted a Hercules,--the countenance was a pure oval, and
singularly pale, this complexion intensifying the almost fiery
brilliancy of the full dark eyes, which had in them a curious and
wonderfully attractive look of mingled mirth and misery. The mouth was
perhaps the most telling feature in this remarkable face,--set in the
perfect curve of beauty, it was yet firm, determined, and not too small,
thus escaping effeminacy,--and I noted that in repose it expressed
bitterness, disdain and even cruelty. But with the light of a smile upon
it, it signified, or seemed to signify, something more subtle than any
passion to which we can give a name, and already with the rapidity of a
lightning flash, I caught myself wondering what that mystic undeclared
something might be. At a glance I comprehended these primary details of
my new acquaintance's eminently prepossessing appearance, and when my
hand dropped from his close grasp I felt as if I had known him all my
life! And now face to face with him in the bright lamp-light, I
remembered my actual surroundings,--the bare cold room, the lack of
fire, the black soot that sprinkled the nearly carpetless floor,--my own
shabby clothes and deplorable aspect, as compared with this
regal-looking individual, who carried the visible evidence of wealth
upon him in the superb Russian sables that lined and bordered his long
overcoat which he now partially unfastened and threw open with a
carelessly imperial air, the while he regarded me, smiling.
"I know I have come at an awkward moment," he said--"I always do! It is
my peculiar misfortune. Well-bred people never intrude where they are
not wanted,--and in this particular I'm afraid my manners leave much to
be desired. Try to forgive me if you can, for the sake of this,"--and he
held out a letter addressed to me in my friend Carrington's familiar
handwriting. "And permit me to sit down while you read my credentials."
He took a chair and seated himself. I observed his handsome face and
easy attitude with renewed admiration.
"No credentials are necessary," I said with all the cordiality I now
really felt--"I have already had a letter from Carrington in which he
speaks of you in the highest and most grateful terms. But the fact
is----well!--really, prince, you must excuse me if I seem confused or
astonished ... I had expected to see quite an old man ..."
And I broke off, somewhat embarrassed by the keen glance of the
brilliant eyes that met mine so fixedly.
"No one is old, my dear sir, nowadays!" he declared lightly--"even the
grandmothers and grandfathers are friskier at fifty than they were at
fifteen. One does not talk of age at all now in polite society,--it is
ill-bred, even coarse. Indecent things are unmentionable--age has become
an indecent thing. It is therefore avoided in conversation. You expected
to see an old man you say? Well, you are not disappointed--I _am_ old.
In fact you have no idea how very old I am!"