Once, from the force of habit, she attempted to put her shawl over her head and talk through the folds gathered under her chin, but an astonished look from the Senator checked her.  Nevertheless, he felt relieved, and rising, motioned her to a chair with a heartiness he would have scarcely shown to a Parisian toilleta.  And when, with two or three quick, long steps, she reached his side, and showed, a frank, innocent, but strong and determined little face, feminine only in its flash of eye and beauty of lip and chin curves, he put down the pamphlet he had taken up somewhat ostentatiously, and gently begged to know her business.

I think I have once before spoken of her voice,—­an organ more often cultivated by my fair country-women for singing than for speaking, which, considering that much of our practical relations with the sex are carried on without the aid of an opera score, seems a mistaken notion of theirs,—­and of its sweetness, gentle inflexion, and musical emphasis.  She had the advantage of having been trained in a musical language, and came of a race with whom catarrhs and sore throats were rare.  So that in a few brief phrases she sang the Senator into acquiescence as she imparted the plain libretto of her business,—­namely, a “desire to see some of his rare engravings.”

Now the engravings in question were certain etchings of the early Great Apprentices of the art, and were, I am happy to believe, extremely rare.  From my unprofessional view they were exceedingly bad,—­showing the mere genesis of something since perfected, but dear, of course, to the true collector’s soul.  I don’t believe that Carmen really admired them either.  But the minx knew that the Senator prided himself on having the only “pot-hooks” of the great “A,” or the first artistic efforts of “B,”—­I leave the real names to be filled in by the connoisseur,—­and the Senator became interested.  For the last year, two or three of these abominations had been hanging in his study, utterly ignored by the casual visitor.  But here was appreciation!  “She was,” she added, “only a poor young artist, unable to purchase such treasures, but equally unable to resist the opportunity afforded her, even at the risk of seeming bold, or of obtruding upon a great man’s privacy,” &c. &c.

This flattery, which, if offered in the usual legal tender of the country, would have been looked upon as counterfeit, delivered here in a foreign accent, with a slightly tropical warmth, was accepted by the Senator as genuine.  These children of the Sun are so impulsive!  We, of course, feel a little pity for the person who thus transcends our standard of good taste and violates our conventional canon,—­but they are always sincere.  The cold New Englander saw nothing wrong in one or two direct and extravagant compliments, that would have insured his visitor’s early dismissal if tendered in the clipped metallic phrases of the Commonwealth he represented.