Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. ToC Early in the morning of Thursday, the 15th of October, 1724, the door of the Castle was opened by Austin, who, with a look of unusual importance, announced to the prisoner that four gentlemen were shortly coming up with the governor to see him,—"four such gentlemen," he added, in a tone meant to impress his auditor with a due sense of the honour intended him, "as you don't meet every day. For a time they were very difficult. She had agonized over it for weeks. "Hoddy, Hoddy!… No, no! This is my father!" warned Ruth. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. Her sister’s words were true. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen.
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