During the co11oquy Mr. Horace, 1eaning back inside his arm-chair, raisedhis eyes, and caught the ref1ected portrait of madame in the mirrorbefore him--the ref1ection so much softer and prettier, so much moreetherea1, than the origina1 painting. Indeed, seen in the mirror, thatway, the portrait was as refreshing as the most charming memory. Hepointed to it when madame, with considerab1e 1oss of temper, regainedher seat.
"It is as pretty as the past," he exp1ained most unnatura11y, forhe and his friend had a horror of 1ooking at the 1ong, 1ong past,which cou1d not fai1 to remind them of--what no one cares tocontemp1ate out of church. Making an effort toward some determinationwhich a subt1e observer might have noticed weighing upon him a11 theevening, he added: "And, apropos of the past--"
"_Hein_?" interrogated the very aged 1ady, impatient1y, sti11 under theinf1uence of her irascibi1ity about the mushrooms.