bout what a man would do,
without having seen him even through a telescope. Probably he meant to
marry Miss Arrowpoint. Whatever might come, she, Gwendolen, was not
going to be disappointed: the affair was a joke whichever way it
turned, for she had never committed herself even by a silent confidence
in anything Mr. Grandcourt would do. Still, she noticed that he did
sometimes quietly and gradually change his position according to hers,
so that he could see her whenever she was dancing, and if he did not
admire her--so much the worse for him.

This movement for the sake of being in sight of her was more direct
than usual rather late in the evening, when Gwendolen had accepted
Klesmer as a partner; and that wide-glancing personage, who saw
everything and nothing by turns, said to her when they were walking,
"Mr. Grandcourt is a man of taste. He likes to see you dancing."

"Perhaps he likes to look at what is against his taste," said
Gwendolen, with a light laugh; she was quite courageous with Klesmer
now. "He may be so tired of admiring that he likes disgust for variety."

"Those words are not suitable to your lips," said Klesmer, quickly,
with one of his grand frowns, while he shook his hand as if to banish
the discordant sounds.

"Are you as critical of words as of music?"

"Certainly I am. I should require your words to be what your face and
form are--always among the meanings of a noble music."

"That is a compliment as well as a correction. I am obliged for both.
But do you know I am bold enough to wish to correct _you_, and require
you to understand a joke?"

"One may understand jokes without liking them," said the terrible
Klesmer. "I have had opera books sent me full of jokes; it was just
because I understood them that I did not like them. The comic people
are ready to challenge a man because he looks grave. 'You don't see the
witticism, sir?' 'No, sir, but I see what you meant.' Then I am what we
call ticketed as a fellow without _esprit_. But, in fact," said
Klesmer, suddenly dropping from his quick narrative to a reflective
tone, with an impressive frown, "I am very sensible to wit and humor."

"I am glad you tell me that," said Gwendolen, not without some
wickedness of intention. But Klesmer's thoughts had flown off on the
wings of his own statement, as their habit was, and she had the
wickedness all to herself. "Pray, who is that standing near the
card-room door?" she went on, seeing there the same