 being satisfied
with her own chances, she felt kindly towards everybody and was satisfied with
the universe. Not to have the highest distinction in rank, not to be marked out
as an heiress, like Miss Arrowpoint, gave an added triumph in eclipsing those
advantages. For personal recommendation she would not have cared to change the
family group accompanying her for any other: her mamma's appearance would have
suited an amiable duchess; her uncle and aunt Gascoigne with Anna made equally
gratifying figures in their way; and Gwendolen was too full of joyous belief in
herself to feel in the least jealous though Miss Arrowpoint was one of the best
archeresses.
    Even the reappearance of the formidable Herr Klesmer, which caused some
surprise in the rest of the company, seemed only to fall in with Gwendolen's
inclination to be amused. Short of Apollo himself, what great musical maestro
could make a good figure at an archery meeting? There was a very satirical light
in Gwendolen's eyes as she looked towards the Arrowpoint party on their first
entrance, when the contrast between Klesmer and the average group of English
county people seemed at its utmost intensity in the close neighbourhood of his
hosts - or patrons, as Mrs. Arrowpoint would have liked to hear them called,
that she might deny the possibility of any longer patronising genius, its
royalty being universally acknowledged. The contrast might have amused a graver
personage than Gwendolen. We English are a miscellaneous people, and any chance
fifty of us will present many varieties of animal architecture or facial
ornament; but it must be admitted that our prevailing expression is not that of
a lively, impassioned race, preoccupied with the ideal and carrying the real as
a mere makeweight. The strong point of the English gentleman pure is the easy
style of his figure and clothing; he objects to marked ins and outs in his
costume, and he also objects to looking inspired.
    Fancy an assemblage where the men had all that ordinary stamp of the
well-bred Englishman, watching the entrance of Herr Klesmer - his mane of hair
floating backward in massive inconsistency with the chimney-pot hat, which had
the look of having been put on for a joke above his pronounced but well-modelled
features and powerful clear-shaven mouth and chin; his tall thin figure clad in
a way which, not being strictly English, was all the worse for its apparent
emphasis of intention. Draped in a loose garment with a Florentine berretta on
his head, he would have been fit to stand by the side of Leonardo da Vinci; but
how when he presented himself in trousers which were not what English feeling
demanded
