do. He was of an extremely placid and
happy temper. As may be anticipated from what I have said, he regarded
no man as utterly lost unless he were completely under the influence of
a woman.

Yet it was by Hammerfeldt's will that Geoffrey Owen became my daily
companion and familiar friend. Vohrenlorf visited me once or twice a
week, and exercised a perfunctory superintendence. I had, of course,
many masters who came and went at appointed hours. Owen lived with me
both at Forstadt and at Artenberg. At this time he was twenty-five; he
excelled my own adult stature, and walked with the free grace of a
well-bred English gentleman. His dark hair grew thick, rising from his
forehead in a wave; his face was long and thin, and a slight mustache
veiled a humorous tender mouth. There was about the man a pervading
sympathy; the desire to be friends was the first characteristic of his
manner; he was talkative, eager, enthusiastic. If a man were good it
seemed to Owen but natural; if he were a rogue my tutor would set it
down to anything in the world save his own fault. Everybody could be
mended if everybody else would try. Thus he brought with him into our
conservative military court and society the latest breath of generous
hope and human aspiration that had blown over Oxford. Surely this was a
strange choice of Hammerfeldt's! Was it made in ignorance of the man, or
with some idea that my mind should be opened to every variety of
thought, or in a careless confidence that his own influence was beyond
shaking, and that Owen's spirit would beat hopelessly against the cage
and never reach mine in its prison of tradition?

A boy that would not have worshipped such a man as Geoffrey Owen must
have wanted heart and fire. I watched him first to see if he could ride;
he rode well. When he came he could not fence; in six months he was a
good hand with the foils; physical fatigue seemed as unknown to him as
mental inertia. There was no strain and no cant about him; he smoked
hard, drank well after exertion, with pleasure always. He delighted to
talk to my mother, chaffing her Styrian ideas with a graceful deference
that made her smile. Victoria adored him openly, and Krak did not
understand why he was not odious. Thus he conquered the Court, and I was
the first of his slaves. It would be tedious to anybody except myself to
trace the gradual progress of our four years' intimacy and friendship,
of my four years' training and enlightenment. Sha