“SHE.  REALLY I DON’T SEE THE SLIGHTEST MOTE IN YOUR EYES.”

“HE.  NO, BUT I CAN SEE THE BEAMS IN YOURS.”]

He calls it “a new adaptation from the New Testament.”  He and a charming “she” sit waiting their turn at the Hofrath’s door. He is looking into her eyes and she into his.  “Really I don’t see the slightest mote in your eyes,” says she.  “No, but I can see the beams in yours,” he replies.

[Illustration:  “I SAY, GOVERNOR, MIND YOU DON’T GASH HIS THROAT AS YOU DID THAT POOR OLD SPANIARD’S!”]

Did du Maurier ever attempt to shave anybody, I wonder?  According to one of the sketches he sent me from Duesseldorf he did, and was so engaged on a blind man Kennedy, when a Captain Marius comes on the scene and says, in discreet whisper and with much concern, “I say, governor, mind you don’t gash his throat as you did that poor old Spaniard’s! (Out loud) How d’ye do, Kennedy?”

The same Mr. Kennedy figures once more, when, unaware of the presence of the captain, he discreetly informs the professor that Captain Marius Blueblast “is na’ but a sinfu’ blackguard.”

[Illustration:  MR. KENNEDY, WHO IS QUITE BLIND, DISCREETLY INFORMS THE PROFESSOR THAT CAPTAIN MARIUS BLUEBLAST “IS NA BUT A SINFU’ BLACKGUARD.”]

[Illustration]

A portrait he drew of the doctor was a great success.  “I have done the old cock’s portrait stunningly,” he says; “nine crosses of the Legion of Honour, &c.  Not a sou into my pocket; all for poor-box.  Fancy a fellow like me making presents to the poor-box (vide sketch)!  But as the portrait will be very much spilt about (repandu), I may fish a stray order or two.  I have followed your advice for a whole week and done a magnificent Framboisy.  Shall not attempt to go on until you are here to give me another stirring-up.  Am going to Antwerp next week (always am).  Shall you be moving too?  Journey together—­great fun.  Take care of my purse and passport, and see my trunks are locked.”

[Illustration:  MEETING IN DUeSSELDORF.  WE SAT INTO THE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING, TALKING OF THE PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE.]

[Illustration:  SCENE FROM MACPHERSON’S OSSIAN:—­

“Dark was the sun!  Heavy the clouds on the cliffs of Oithona—­when the fair-headed son of the Maurialva crossed his claymore with the stern dark-browed Bobthailva and swore friendship on the names of Carry and Damask.”]

I was moving, and as du Maurier kept on being about to go to Antwerp, I went to pay him a flying visit at Duesseldorf on my way to Paris.  We sat into the small hours of the morning (as he depicts us), talking of the past, present, and future, a long-necked Rhine-wine bottle and two green glasses beside us, our hopes and aspirations rising with the cloud that curled from my ever-glowing cigar.  We talked till his fertile imagination took us across the sea, and “Ragmar of the Maurialva and Bobthailva, the son of Moscheles, swore eternal amity on their native heath.”