“Pretty,—very pretty; long eyelashes, very regular features, a beautiful figure; and the richest auburn hair I ever saw, but, with all that, none of the mother's esprit,—no smartness, no brilliancy. In fact, I should call her a regular mope.”
“She is very young, remember,” broke in Stocmar.
“That's true; but with such a clever mother, if she really had any smartness, it would certainly show itself. Now, it is not only that she displays no evidence of superior mind, but she wears an air of depression and melancholy that seems like a sort of confession of her own insufficiency, so Twist says, and Twist is very shrewd as to character.”
“I can answer for it, he's devilish close-fisted as to money,” said Stocmar, laughing.
“I remember,” chimed in Trover; “he told me that you came into the bank with such a swaggering air, and had such a profusion of gold chains, rings, and watch-trinkets, that he set you down for one of the swell-mob out on a tour.”
“Civil, certainly,” said Stocmar, “but as little flattering to his own perspicuity as to myself. But I'll never forget the paternal tone in which he whispered me afterwards, 'Whenever you want a discount, Mr. Stocmar, from a stranger,—an utter stranger,—don't wear an opal pin set in brilliants; it don't do, I assure you it don't'.” Stocmar gave such a close imitation of the worthy banker's voice and utterance, that his partner laughed heartily.
“Does he ever give a dinner, Trover?” asked Stocmar.
“Oh yes, he gives one every quarter. Our graver clients, who would not venture to come up here, dine with him, and he treats them to sirloins and saddles, with Gordon's sherry and a very fruity port, made especially, I believe, for men with good balances to their names.”
“I should like to be present at one of these festivals.” “You have no chance, Stocmar; he'd as soon think of inviting the corps de ballet to tea. I myself am never admitted to such celebrations.”
“What rogues these fellows are, Ludlow!” said Stocmar. “If you and I were to treat the world in this fashion, what would be said of us! The real humbugs of this life are the fellows that play the heavy parts.” And with this reflection, whose image was derived from his theatrical experiences, he arose, to take his coffee on the terrace.