"Smith," said I to myself, "will keep the Pole
quiet if he have any wit left."
The man who had asked the question had the air of an upper English
servant, and I thought that I recognised one of those whom I had
seen with the old gentleman on the road; but the matter was soon put
at rest by the appearance of that gentleman himself. He walked up
into the courtyard, looked hard at me from under those bushy
eyebrows, just raised his hat, and then--said, "I believe I am
speaking to Mr. Jones."
"Yes," said I, "I am Mr. Jones. Can I have the honour of serving
you?"
There was something peculiarly unpleasant about this man's face. At
the present moment I examined it closely, and could understand the
great aversion which his nephew felt towards him. He looked like a
gentleman and like a man of talent, nor was there anything of
meanness in his face; neither was he ill-looking, in the usual
acceptation of the word; but one could see that he was solemn,
austere, and overbearing; that he would be incapable of any light
enjoyment, and unforgiving towards all offences. I took him to be a
man who, being old himself, could never remember that he had been
young, and who, therefore, hated the levities of youth.
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