"
The Duke made a signal to Reve de Noir, who again stepped up to the
canvas, and, with a short knife or stiletto, removed a small portion of
the outer layer of paint, disclosing a very ancient ground of some other
and inferior work, over which the copy seemed to have been painted. The
proof was unanswerable.
"Good copies," remarked the Duke, "are often better than originals."
He offered his arm to Honoria, and they walked through the gallery,--he
entertaining her, and those near him, with comments upon other works. The
crowd followed them, as they moved on or returned, as a cloud of gnats
follow up and down, and to and fro, a branch tossing in the wind.
"Beaten at every point," I said, mentally, looking on the pale features of
the defeated Dalton.
"Yes," he replied, seeing the remark in my face; "but there is yet time. I
am satisfied this is the man with whom we travelled; none other could have
devised such a plan, or carried it out. He must have fallen in love with
Honoria at that time; and simply to see her is the object of his visit to
America. He is a connoisseur in pictures as in women; but he must not be
allowed to ruin us by his arrogant assumptions."
"Excepting his manner and extraordinary personal advantages, I find
nothing in him to awe or astonish."
"His wealth is incalculable; he is used to victories; and that manner
which you affect to slight,--that is everything.
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