Part 8 (1/2)
practice at a London life school had quite cured him of that purposeless indecision of touch which often characterizes the prentice hand for years of apprentices.h.i.+p, and remains with the amateur for life.
The lightest and most careless of his pencil strokes had a precision that was inimitable, and a charm that specially belonged to him, and was easy to recognize at a glance. His touch on either canvas or paper was like Svengali's on the key-board--unique.
As the morning ripened little attempts at conversation were made--little breakings of the ice of silence. It was Lambert, a youth with a singularly facetious face, who first woke the stillness with the following uncalled-for remarks in English very badly p.r.o.nounced:
”Av you seen my fahzere's ole shoes?”
”I av not seen your fahzere's ole shoes.”
Then, after a pause:
”Av you seen my fahzere's ole 'at?”
”I av not seen your fahzere's old 'at!”
Presently another said, ”Je trouve qu'il a une jolie tete, l'Anglais.”
But I will put it all into English:
”I find that he has a pretty head--the Englishman! What say _you_, Barizel?”
”Yes; but why has he got eyes like brandy-b.a.l.l.s, two a penny?”
”Because he's an Englishman!”
”Yes; but why has he got a mouth like a guinea-pig, with two big teeth in front like the double blank at dominos?”
”Because he's an Englishman!”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'AV YOU SEEN MY FAHZERE'S OLE SHOES?'”]
”Yes; but why has he got a back without any bend in it, as if he'd swallowed the Colonne Vendome as far up as the battle of Austerlitz?”
”Because he's an Englishman!”
And so on, till all the supposed characteristics of Little Billee's outer man were exhausted. Then:
”Papelard!”
”What?”
”_I_ should like to know if the Englishman says his prayers before going to bed.”
”Ask him.”
”Ask him yourself!”
”_I_ should like to know if the Englishman has sisters; and if so, how old and how many and what s.e.x.”
”Ask him.”