I was destined upon another day to hear the tones of his voice, and thereupon may as well state now that they belonged altogether with the rest of him.  There is a familiar type of Northern fraud, and a Southern type, equally familiar, but totally different in appearance.  The Northern type has the straight, flat, earnest hair, the shaven upper lip, the chin-beard, and the benevolent religious expression.  He will be the president of several charities, and the head of one great business.  He plays no cards, drinks no wine, and warns young men to beware of temptation.  He is as genial as a hair-sofa; and he is seldom found out by the public unless some financial crash in general affairs uncovers his cheating, which lies most often beyond the law’s reach; and because he cannot be put in jail, he quite honestly believes heaven is his destination.  We see less of him since we have ceased to be a religious country, religion no longer being an essential disguise for him.  The Southern type, with his unction and his juleps, is better company, unless he is the hero of too many of his own anecdotes.  He is commonly the possessor of a poetic gaze, a mane of silvery hair, and a noble neck.  As war days and cotton-factor days recede into a past more and more filmed over with romance, he too grows rare among us, and I regret it, for he was in truth a picturesque figure.  General Rieppe was perfect.

At first I was sorry that the distance they were from me rendered hearing what they were saying impossible; very soon, however, the frame of my open window provided me with a living picture which would have been actually spoiled had the human voice disturbed its eloquent pantomime.

General Rieppe’s daughter responded to her father’s caress but languidly, turning to him her face, with its luminous, stationary beauty.  He pointed to the house, and then waved his hand toward the bench where she sat; and she, in response to this, nodded slightly.  Upon which the General, after another kiss of histrionic paternity administered to her forehead, left her sitting and proceeded along the garden walk at a stately pace, until I could no longer see him.  Hortense, left alone upon the bench, looked down at the folds of her dress, extended a hand and slowly rearranged one of them, and then, with the same hand, felt her hair from front to back.  This had scarce been accomplished when the General reappeared, ushering Juno along the walk, and bearing a chair with him.  When they turned the corner at the arbor, Hortense rose, and greetings ensued.  Few objects could be straighter than was Juno’s back; her card-case was in her hand, but her pocket was not quite large enough for the whole of her pride, which stuck out so that it could have been seen from a greater distance than my window.  The General would have departed, placing his chair for the visitor, when Hortense waved for him an inviting hand toward the bench beside her; he waved a similarly inviting hand, looking at Juno,