THE LAKE CITY.

“How lovely is water!--on a flower, bedewing the grass, rushing down as a mountain torrent, rolling on as a mighty river, expanding itself into a vast lake, like this, kissed into ripples by the shimmering of moonlight.”

Such were the words of a young man who stood out upon a balcony connected with a low, long range of buildings, stranger in aspect than any which have met the eyes of the inhabitants of this earth for many ages. He was one of the dwellers in a lake city in the south of Europe, similar to such as have been discovered in recent years at the bottom of the lakes in Switzerland.

The young man resumed his train of thought. “Surely,” he muttered, “water is the woman of the inanimate creation: versatile, fluent, lovely, untameable, and dangerous.”

The youth who spoke these words was not stalwart, like most of the men of his nation, and he was evidently unused to hard labour of any kind. The cause of this was manifest when, rousing himself at last from his reverie, he paced up and down the long wooden balcony. It was then perceptible that he halted slightly in his walk; and, indeed, he had been lame from his birth.

The description in words of such a wondrous thing as any human countenance cannot be otherwise than very poor and inadequate. But still it is better than nothing; and so I will here endeavour to portray the outward appearance of this youth. His was a very singular face, from the strange admixture of daring and softness which pervaded it. He had beautiful melancholy eyes of a deep blue colour, which seemed to promise the greatest tenderness of character; but these were surmounted by dark eyebrows which nearly met. In the centre of his forehead, even now, while he was a young man, there was a deep vertical dent, formed probably by the contraction of the brows by thought. In each part of this remarkable face there was contradiction. The nose was slightly aquiline, and most delicately formed from the upper part to the nostril, which, however, was wide, and even somewhat coarse. The lips again were well formed, except that the lower one was very large, and what is called sensual. He had a sweet subtle smile, and there were dimples beautiful as those in any woman’s face. Though a very crafty man, he could not quite command the lower part of his countenance; and, to a refined observer, it was sometimes but too visible what Realmah was really thinking about. The chin was decided; and the whole contour of the lower part of the face was square and massive, like that of the First Napoleon.

He was rather under than above the middle size, and he stooped slightly, generally looking down on the ground, as one immersed in thought. His hands were very small and delicate, and he made great use of them when speaking. His gestures altogether were like those of an Andalusian, having such a combination of gravity, dignity, and vivacity as, perhaps, in modern times, is only to be seen in that part of Spain.

Such is the portraiture, as near as I can give it, of one who was destined to play a part greater than that of any other man in the south of Europe at that period of the world’s history.

I have omitted to mention a very characteristic thing, his hair, which was extremely fine and delicate, and gave signs that he would be prematurely bald. Like Cæsar, he endeavoured to conceal this. It may be noticed that the most refined persons are wont to have this kind of hair. It was of a light brown colour and formed a strange contrast to the dark and somewhat fierce eyebrows.

Of his dress it may be mentioned that it was rich and careless, even slovenly; and that he little heeded the prevailing fashions of his country. Altogether he was one of those men, whom, if you met accidentally, you would involuntarily turn to look upon again; which attention on your part he would have construed into an observation of his lameness, and would accordingly have been somewhat disconcerted.

Realmah-Koonah (for that was his name) had been unable to join heartily in the sports of boys, or the labours of men; but, in compensation for this enforced inactivity, his intellect had been brightened and his thoughtfulness developed by his painful isolation. Of all the men in that strange city Realmah was the wisest; and at that moment, excepting the guards at the drawbridges, he was the only watcher who was looking out upon the wide expanse of waters, and upon the reflection in them of the unclouded sky.

“I mistrust,” he said to himself, “that smooth-spoken ambassador; but how shall I dare to make known my suspicions to the assembly of the grey-haired warriors; I who am but a youth, and who have no spoils to show, wrested from the enemy, or from wild beasts; I who cannot even win the love of a woman, and upon whose suit the graceful Talora looks with gentle but unmistakeable contempt?”