The Argonauts
The sculptor was astonished. He had imagined the
millionaire as entirely different.
" Money should be at the service of talent! " repeated he. " I hear this for the first time from a man having money! Do you really think so ? "
Darvid smiled, but his face clouded immediately.
" My dear sir," said he, " I would give, I think, much money if a cough like yours were not in the world."
" Because of your daughter — " began the sculptor, but Darvid had grown cold now, ceremonious, and he turned toward the round table.
At the same moment a servant announced from the door a new guest.
" Pan Arthur Kranitski."
The guest entered immediately after the servant, and passed the outgoing sculptor in the door.
This guest was a man who carried his fifth decade of years with youthful elasticity of movement, and with a pleasant, winning expression on his still handsome face. In general he seemed to be clothed with remnants of great manly beauty, from behind which, like soiled lining through rents in a once splendid robe, appeared, carefully concealed, old age, which was premature, perhaps.
A tall man with a shapely oval face, he had dark whiskers, and the black curls of his hair did not cover successfully the bald spot appearing on the back of his head; his mustache was curled upward, in the fashion of young men, above ruddy lips; he passed through the study with a youthful step, and had the express intention of greeting the master of the house in a cordial and intimate manner. But in the cold eyes of Darvid appeared flashes well-nigh threatening; he barely touched with his finger-tips the hand extended by the guest—a hand really aristocratic, white, slender, and greatly cared for.
