Every one who came into the counting-house at once remarked his
handsome figure, and thus it seemed quite natural that all should
address themselves to him.
Charles meanwhile bent over his work and let Alphonse be
spokesman. When Alphonse asked him about anything, he
answered shortly and quietly without looking up.
Thus most people thought that Charles was a confidential clerk,
while Alphonse was the real head of the house.
As Frenchmen, they thought little about marrying, but as young
Parisians they led a life into which erotics entered largely.
Alphonse was never really in his element except when in female
society. Then all his exhilarating amiability came into play, and
when he leaned back at supper and held out his shallow champagne-
glass to be refilled, he was as beautiful as a happy god.
He had a neck of the kind which women long to caress, and his
soft, half-curling hair looked as if it were negligently arranged,
or carefully disarranged, by a woman's coquettish hand.
Indeed, many slim white fingers had passed through those locks;
for Alphonse had not only the gift of being loved by women, but
also the yet rarer gift of being forgiven by them.
When the friends were together at gay supper-parties, Alphonse
paid no particular heed to Charles. He kept no account of his own
love-affairs, far less of those of his friend. So it might easily
happen that a beauty on whom Charles had cast a longing eye fell
into the hands of Alphonse.
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