CONFIDENCE
him, and as she approached he instinctively got up, holding his drawing in one hand. She looked at him again, with that expression that he had mentally characterised as "bold," a few minutes before—with dark, intelligent eyes. Her hair was dark and dense; she was a strikingly handsome girl.
"I am so sorry you moved," he said, confidently, in English. "You were so—so beautiful."
She stopped, looking at him more directly than ever; and she looked at his sketch, which he held out towards her. At the sketch, however, she only glanced, whereas there was observation in the eye that she bent upon Longueville. He never knew whether she had blushed; he afterwards thought she might have been frightened. Nevertheless, it was not exactly terror that appeared to dictate her answer to Longueville's speech.
"I am much obliged to you. Don't you think you have looked at me enough?"
"By no means. I should like so much to finish my drawing."
"I am not a professional model," said the young lady.
"No. That's my difficulty," Longueville answered, laughing. "I can't propose to remunerate you."
The young lady seemed to think this joke in indifferent taste. She turned away in silence; but something in her expression, in his feeling at the time, in the situation, incited Longueville to higher play. He felt a lively need of carrying his point.
"You see it will be pure kindness," he went on—"a simple act of charity. Five minutes will be enough. Treat me as an Italian beggar."
She had laid down his sketch and had stepped forward. He stood there, obsequious, clasping his hands and smiling.
7
