One could not come to a
city like this one and look as she did without attracting attention; she
could be very sure of that.
It was not his intention to flatter her; he was sincere in what he said.
Still she did not seem to believe him.
They walked toward the park, where the band thundered Cherubini's
"Overture to the Water-Carrier" across the place.
"It seems to me this is an altogether unnecessary noise," he said
smilingly.
She laughed; she laughed often and heartily over his remarks. This
laughter from her fresh lips, the dimple in her left cheek, her many cute
and childlike ways, drove his spirits still higher; even her nose, which
was somewhat irregular in profile and a little too large, made him almost
feel as if he were in love. Greek or Roman noses were not always the most
beautiful--not at all; it depended on the rest of the face. There was no
such a thing as an authorised standard for noses.
He chatted about one thing after another and made time fly; he proved
himself the poet who could interest those he addressed himself to, the
highly cultured man, the genius of scintillating words. Aagot listened
attentively; he tried to amuse her and came back to the subject of music
again, to operatic music, which he simply abominated.
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