At last a new face appeared: not cold like that of the familiar, nor
wreathed in smiles like that of a successful enemy, but wearing a decent
expression of gravity tempered by compassion. And "How do you do,
Doctor?" asked the visitor in a soothing voice, trained like his face to
tell lies at his bidding.
"Well, Father, perfectly well."
"I am very glad to hear it. I was afraid your appetite might have
suffered from the sudden change in your mode of life."
"Not in the least. I have a sound stomach, and can digest anything you
send me."
"And how do you contrive to pass your time? For so active a man, the
change is very great."
"Oh, that is easy enough. I am very fond of poetry, and have such a good
memory that I know volumes of it by heart. There is nothing pleasanter
than repeating verses that you like,--except, perhaps, making verses
yourself."
"Do you ever compose?"
"I? It has always been my favorite pastime. Would you like to hear some
of my verses?"
The sympathizing father was, of course, too happy; and M---- recited, in
his most effective manner, a sonnet, not very complimentary to
eavesdroppers and spies.
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