His hair, as well as his beard and mustache, was coal-black; his eyes, too, were black and sparkling, and his teeth remarkably brilliant.  He was rather carelessly but well and fashionably dressed, in a summer-morning costume.  There was a gold chain, exquisitely wrought, across his vest.  I never saw a smoother or whiter gloss than that upon his shirt-bosom, which had a pin in it, set with a gem that glimmered, in the leafy shadow where he stood, like a living tip of fire.  He carried a stick with a wooden head, carved in vivid imitation of that of a serpent.  I hated him, partly, I do believe, from a comparison of my own homely garb with his well-ordered foppishness.

“Well, sir,” said I, a little ashamed of my first irritation, but still with no waste of civility, “be pleased to speak at once, as I have my own business in hand.”

“I regret that my mode of addressing you was a little unfortunate,” said the stranger, smiling; for he seemed a very acute sort of person, and saw, in some degree, how I stood affected towards him.  “I intended no offence, and shall certainly comport myself with due ceremony hereafter.  I merely wish to make a few inquiries respecting a lady, formerly of my acquaintance, who is now resident in your Community, and, I believe,

largely concerned in your social enterprise.  You call her, I think, Zenobia.”

“That is her name in literature,” observed I; “a name, too, which possibly she may permit her private friends to know and address her by,—­but not one which they feel at liberty to recognize when used of her personally by a stranger or casual acquaintance.”

“Indeed!” answered this disagreeable person; and he turned aside his face for an instant with a brief laugh, which struck me as a noteworthy expression of his character.  “Perhaps I might put forward a claim, on your own grounds, to call the lady by a name so appropriate to her splendid qualities.  But I am willing to know her by any cognomen that you may suggest.”

Heartily wishing that he would be either a little more offensive, or a good deal less so, or break off our intercourse altogether, I mentioned Zenobia’s real name.

“True,” said he; “and in general society I have never heard her called otherwise.  And, after all, our discussion of the point has been gratuitous.  My object is only to inquire when, where, and how this lady may most conveniently be seen.”

“At her present residence, of course,” I replied.  “You have but to go thither and ask for her.  This very path will lead you within sight of the house; so I wish you good-morning.”