PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
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Transcribed from 1893 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org. Proofed by Nina Hall, Mohua Sen, Bridie, Francine Smith and David.
_This Edition is intended for circulation only in India_ _and the British Colonies_
London MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1893
Norwood Press: J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Boston, Mass, U.S.A.
THE second of the following tales bore, on its first appearance, in _The Cosmopolitan_, a different title.
PAGE THE REAL THING 1 SIR DOMINICK FERRAND 45 NONA VINCENT 131 THE CHAPERON 181 GREVILLE FANE 249
WHEN the porter’s wife (she used to answer the house-bell), announced “A gentleman—with a lady, sir,” I had, as I often had in those days, for the wish was father to the thought, an immediate vision of sitters. Sitters my visitors in this case proved to be; but not in the sense I should have preferred. However, there was nothing at first to indicate that they might not have come for a portrait. The gentleman, a man of fifty, very high and very straight, with a moustache slightly grizzled and a dark grey walking-coat admirably fitted, both of which I noted professionally—I don’t mean as a barber or yet as a tailor—would have struck me as a celebrity if celebrities often were striking. It was a truth of which I had for some time been conscious that a figure with a good deal of frontage was, as one might say, almost never a public institution. A glance at the lady helped to remind me of this paradoxical law: she also looked too distinguished to be a “personality.” Moreover one would scarcely come across two variations together.
Neither of the pair spoke immediately—they only prolonged the preliminary gaze which suggested that each wished to give the other a chance. They were visibly shy; they stood there letting me take them in—which, as I afterwards perceived, was the most practical thing they could have done. In this way their embarrassment served their cause. I had seen people painfully reluctant to mention that they desired anything so gross as to be represented on canvas; but the scruples of my new friends appeared almost insurmountable. Yet the gentleman might have said “I should like a portrait of my wife,” and the lady might have said “I should like a portrait of my husband.” Perhaps they were not husband and wife—this naturally would make the matter more delicate. Perhaps they wished to be done together—in which case they ought to have brought a third person to break the news.
Arthur Conan Doyle
