Page:Firecrackers a realistic novel.pdf/22

 attitude of the young man, and his appearance, save for the fact that he wore the overalls of his craft, would have fitted into a fantastic sylvan ballet. His hair was black and sleek, like the coat of a seal just emerged from the ocean, his figure, slender, lithe, and taut, giving at once the impression of a distinguished grace and a superior strength. His hands were white and fragile, with long, delicate fingers. For the time being Paul was unable to see his face.

At last, but even so a little hesitantly, Paul moved forward and spoke.

Are you the chap who is supposed to be putting the furnace in order? he demanded.

Turning a leaf, rather than his head, the youth responded, You are.

Paul adopted a more aggressive tone. Then, why the devil don't you do it? The house is freezing.

This rougher method of approach was successful in disturbing the workman's preoccupation. He lowered his right forearm and permitted his neck to pivot until his gaze met the eyes of the intruder.

Who are you? he questioned softly. The rich resonance of his voice, the complete poise of his manner, the refined beauty of his face, cut as cleanly as a Roman sculptor might have carved it from marble, and as white as marble, his eyes, lustrous and black, his magenta lips, all were sufficiently baffling in the circumstances.