The
children came first, to scorch their fingers and fill their pockets, and
after them the idle young men, and the habitants in general.
The stranger having warmly shaken Parpon by the hand and again whispered
in his ear, stepped forward. The last light of the setting sun was
reflected from the red roof of the Little Chemist's shop upon the quaint
figure and eloquent face, which had in it something of the gentleman,
something of the comedian. The alert Medallion himself did not realise
the touch of the comedian in him, till the white hand was waved
grandiloquently over the heads of the crowd. Then something in the
gesture corresponded with something in the face, and the auctioneer had a
nut which he could not crack for many a day. The voice was musical,--as
fine in speaking almost as the dwarf's in singing,--and the attention of
the children was caught by the rich, vibrating tones. He addressed
himself to them.
"My children," he said, "my name is--Valmond! We have begun well; let us
be better friends. I have come from far off to be one of you, to stay
with you for awhile--who knows how long--how long?" He placed a finger
meditatively on his lips, sending a sort of mystery into his look and
bearing.
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