She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. “I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. . ” Anna read, and her cheeks grew slowly scarlet. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs.
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