Sentiment?
Coquetry? Not with him. That for less interesting men, she said to
herself. Why should a point or two of dress and manners affect her
unpleasantly? She ought to be just, to remember that there was a touch of
the fantastic, of the barbaric, in all genius.
Was he a genius? For an instant she almost thought he was, when she saw
the people make way for him to pass out of the church, as though he were
a great personage, Parpon trotting behind him. He carried himself with
true appreciation of the incident, acknowledging more by look than by
sign this courtesy.
"Upon my word," she said, "he has them in his pocket." Then,
unconsciously plagiarising Parpon: "Prince or barber--a toss-up!"
Outside, many had gathered round Medallion. The auctioneer, who liked the
unique thing and was not without tact, having the gift of humour, took on
himself the office of inquisitor, even as there rose again little
snatches of "Vive Napoleon" from the crowd. He approached Valmond, who
was moving on towards the Louis Quinze, with appreciation of a time for
disappearing.
"We know you, sir," said Medallion, "as Monsieur Valmond; but there are
those who think you would let us address you by a name better
known--indeed, the name dear to all Frenchmen.
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