The hand itself was like that of the Infant Hercules. Robust
health flourished on his face, which was divided by a large Roman nose
and reminded Clementine of some handsome Transteverino. A black silk
cravat added to the martial appearance of this six-foot mystery, with
eyes of jet and Italian fervor. The amplitude of his pleated trousers,
which allowed only the tips of his boots to be seen, revealed his
faithfulness to the fashions of his own land. There was something
really burlesque to a romantic woman in the striking contrast no one
could fail to remark between the captain and the count, the little
Pole with his pinched face and the stalwart soldier.
"Good morning, Adam," he said familiarly. Then he bowed courteously as
he asked Clementine what he could do for her.
"You are Laginski's friend!" exclaimed the countess.
"For life and death," answered Paz, to whom the count threw a smile of
affection as he drew a last puff from his perfumed pipe.
"Then why don't you take your meals with us? why did you not accompany
us to Italy and Switzerland? why do you hide yourself in such a way
that I am unable to thank you for the constant services that you do
for us?" said the countess, with much vivacity of manner but no
feeling.
In fact, she thought she perceived in Paz a sort of voluntary
servitude.
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