"Why, Peter!" said Charmian, regarding me with grave eyes, "what

do you mean?"

"I mean that the country folk hereabout go out of their way to

avoid crossing my path--not that, I suppose, they ever heard of

Mina, but because of my looks."

"Your looks?"

"They think me possessed of the 'Evil Eye' or some such folly

--may I cut you a piece of bread?"

"Oh, Peter!"

"Already, by divers honest-hearted rustics, I am credited with

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having cast a deadly spell upon certain unfortunate pigs, with

having fought hand to hand with the hosts of the nethermost pit,

and with having sold my soul to the devil--may I trouble you to

pass the butter?"

"Oh, Peter, how foolish of them!"

"And how excusable! considering their ignorance and superstition,"

said I. "Mine, I am well aware, is not a face to win me the heart

of man, woman, or child; they (especially women and children) share,

in common with dogs and horses, that divine attribute which, for

want of a better name, we call 'instinct,' whereby they love or

hate for the mere tone of a voice, the glance of an eye, the motion

of a hand, and, the love or hate once given, the prejudice for, or

against, is seldom wholly overcome."

"Indeed," said Charmian, "I believe in first impressions."

"Being a woman," said I.

"Being a woman!" she nodded; "and the instinct of dog and child

and woman has often proved true in the end."

"Surely instinct is always true?" said I--"I'd thank you for

another cup of tea--yet, strangely enough, dogs generally make

friends with me very readily, and the few children to whom I've

spoken have neither screamed nor run away from me. Still, as I

said before, I am aware that my looks are scarcely calculated to

gain the love of man, woman, or child; not that it matters

greatly, seeing that I am likely to hold very little converse

with either."

"There is one woman, Peter, to whom you have talked by the hour

together--"

"And who is doubtless weary enough of it all--more especially of

Epictetus and Trojan Helen."

"Two lumps of sugar, Peter?"

"Thank you! Women are very like flowers--" I began.

"That is a very profound remark, sir!--more especially coming

from one who has studied and knows womankind so deeply."

"--and it is a pity that they should be allowed to 'waste their

sweetness on the desert air.'"




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