The Argosy — page 372: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Paul Smith, ARA. 351 ‘Quaint and pretty,” he said. Then turning again to the picture, he added: ‘‘ And now for your translation of it.” Paul Smith pointing to the centre figure with his mahlstick, began in an oratorial tone: ‘‘ Here you behold the late charmer of his faithless majesty, Francis I. Le roi gallant, in defiance of the maxim to be off with the old love, &c., sends, at a woman’s instiga- tion, of course, for the love tokens and jewels he had given his old flame.” “And pray who was the old love?” Hugo asked, interrupting his friend’s flow of eloquence. “Francoise de Foix, Comtesse de Chateaubriant. And as you may observe, she obeyed his Majesty’s command, but returns them in a grand smash, worthless as his affection: a sentiment embodied in the neat lines you have been reading. ‘There’s not another girl in London with such a head of hair: the true Old Master shade. Leo- nardo should have painted her instead of the arch-sinner Francis. “Magnificent! And a lovely face. Haven’t you flattered her? Hasn’t she freckles ?” “No!” Paul replied honestly. ‘I couldn’t flatter her if I tried ; she -is simply beautiful. Look at her photo, there; even without colour it is lovely.” Hugo Somerville took a portrait from the looking-glass, and gave it a long serious gaze. ‘‘ Perfect,’ he exclaimed at length. “Yes! and she’s as good as she’s perfect,” Paul continued. ‘‘ For when I was down with typhoid fever last year, that girl nursed me like a mother. She had been a hospital nurse for a few months and was up to the work; she pulled me through too. Sir William Car- stairs said he could do nothing ; all depended upon my constitution, and upon nursing and care. I owe my life to her.” “Of course you'll pay your debt and marry her, live happily ever after, and so end—or begin—the romance.” ** It would end the romance indeed, my dear fellow! I can’t afford it.” ‘Why, it would pay in the long run; she’d sit to you gratis. Marry her. I would, if I were you.” “Tf I were you, I might; the Honourable Hugo Somerville may indulge in matrimonial eccentricities; but I owe it to the time- honoured name of Smith to be more particular, An imprudent marriage would ruin my career.” ‘Ts she common ?” Hugo enquired eagerly. ‘No! uncommon enough—one of Nature’s gentlewomen, though I believe her father was a gentleman. But I want the happy com- bination of Nature and Art—allied to wealth.” “I should go in for such a combination as I see here, and leave destiny to take care of itself,” cried Somerville, touching the photo, as he spoke, almost reverently. Smith laughed. ‘* There goes the door! She'll be in directly, and you can judge for yourself.” CoOnnicboooks (CO) im