minute or two after he had begun his meal he kept silence.

On a mind such as his, outward things have small effect; otherwise the
cheerful homeliness of the scene must have soothed him. The lamp,
telling of present autumn and approaching winter, had been lit: a
wood-fire crackled pleasantly in the great fireplace and was reflected
in rows of pewter plates on either dresser: a fragrant stew scented the
air; all that a philosopher of the true type could have asked was at his
service. But Basterga belonged rather to the fifteenth century, the
century of the south, which was expiring, than to the century of the
north which was opening. Splendour rather than comfort, the gorgeousness
of Venice, of red-haired dames, stiff-clad in Titian velvets, of tables
gleaming with silk and gold and ruby glass, rather than the plain
homeliness which Geneva shared with the Dutch cities, held his mind.
To-night in particular his lip curled as he looked round. To-night in
particular ill-pleased and ill-content he found the place and the
company well matched, the one and the other mean and contemptible!

One there--Gentilis--marked the great man's mood, and, cringing, after
his kind, kept his eyes low on his platter. Grio, too, knew enough to
seek refuge in sullen silence. Claude alone, impatient of the constraint
which descended on the party at the great man's coming, continued to
talk in a raised voice. "Good soup to-night, Anne," he said cheerfully.
For days past he had been using himself to speak to her easily and
lightly, as if she were no more to him than to the others.

She did not answer--she seldom did. But "Good?" Basterga sneered in his
most cutting tone. "Ay, for schoolboys! And such as have no palate save
for pap!"

Claude being young took the thrust a little to heart. He returned it
with a boy's impertinence. "We none of us grow thin on it," he said with
a glance at the other's bulk.

Basterga's eyes gleamed. "Grease and dish-washings," he exclaimed. And
then, as if he knew where he could most easily wound his antagonist, he
turned to the girl.

"If Hebe had brought such liquor to Jupiter," he sneered, "do you think
he had given her Hercules for a husband, as I shall presently give you
Grio? Ha! You flush at the prospect, do you? You colour and tremble," he
continued mockingly, "as if it were the wedding-day. You'll sleep little
to-night, I see, for thinking of your Hercules!" With grim irony he
pointed to his loutish com