IfellfromtheskiesonBarbizonabouttwoo’clockofaSeptemberafternoon。Itisthedeadhouroftheday；alltheworkershavegonepainting，alltheidlersstrolling，intheforestortheplain；thewindingcausewayedstreetissolitary，andtheinndeserted。Iwasthemorepleasedtofindoneofmyoldcompanionsinthedining-room；histownclothesmarkedhimforamanintheactofdeparture；andindeedhisportmanteaulaybesidehimonthefloor。
“Why，Stennis。”Icried，“you’rethelastmanIexpectedtofindhere。”
“Youwon’tfindmeherelong。”hereplied。“KingPandionheisdead；allhisfriendsarelappedinlead。Formenofourantiquity，thepooroldshopisplayedout。”
“Ihavehadplaymates，Ihavehadcompanions。”Iquotedinreturn。Wewerebothmoved，Ithink，tomeetagaininthissceneofouroldpleasurepartiessounexpectedly，aftersolonganinterval，andbothalreadysomuchaltered。
“Thatisthesentiment。”hereplied。“All，allaregone，theoldfamiliarfaces。Ihavebeenhereaweek，andtheonlylivingcreaturewhoseemedtorecollectmewasthePharaon。BartheSirons，ofcourse，andtheperennialBodmer。”
“Istherenosurvivor？”Iinquired。
“Ofourgeologicalepoch？notone。”hereplied。“ThisisthecityofPetrainEdom。”
“AndwhatsortofBedouinsencampamongtheruins？”Iasked。
“Youth，Dodd，youth；blooming，consciousyouth。”hereturned。
“Suchagang，suchreptiles！tothinkwewerelikethat！I
wonderSirondidn’tsweepusfromhispremises。”
“Perhapsweweren’tsobad。”Isuggested。
“Don’tletmedepressyou。”saidhe。“WewerebothAnglo-
Saxons，anyway，andtheonlyredeemingfeatureto-dayisanother。”
Thethoughtofmyquest，amomentdrivenoutbythisrencounter，revivedinmymind。“Whoishe？”Icried。“Tellmeabouthim。”
“What，theRedeemingFeature？”saidhe。“Well，he’saverypleasingcreature，ratherdim，anddull，andgenteel，butreallypleasing。HeisveryBritish，though，theartlessBriton！
Perhapsyou’llfindhimtoomuchsoforthetransatlanticnerves。
Cometothinkofit，ontheotherhand，yououghttogetonfamously。Heisanadmirerofyourgreatrepublicinoneofitsexcusemeshoddiestfeatures；hetakesinandsedulouslyreadsalotofAmericanpapers。Iwarnedyouhewasartless。”
“Whatpapersarethey？”criedI。
“SanFranciscopapers。”saidhe。“Hegetsabaleofthemabouttwiceaweek，andstudiesthemliketheBible。That’soneofhisweaknesses；anotheristobeincalculablyrich。HehastakenMasson’soldstudio——youremember？——atthecorneroftheroad；
hehasfurnisheditregardlessofexpense，andlivestheresurroundedwithvinsfinsandworksofart。Whentheyouthofto-daygoesuptotheCavernedesBrigandstomakepunch——
theydoallthatwedid，likesomenauseousformofapeIneverappreciatedbeforewhatacreatureoftraditionmankindis——
thisMaddenfollowswithabasketofchampagne。Itoldhimhewaswrong，andthepunchtastedbetter；buthethoughttheboyslikedthestyleofthething，andIsupposetheydo。Heisaverygood-naturedsoul，andaverymelancholy，andratherahelpless。O，andhehasathirdweaknesswhichIcamenearforgetting。Hepaints。Hehasneverbeentaught，andhe’spastthirty，andhepaints。”
“How？”Iasked。
“Ratherwell，Ithink。”wasthereply。“That’stheannoyingpartofit。Seeforyourself。Thatpanelishis。”
Isteppedtowardthewindow。Itwastheoldfamiliarroom，withthetablessetlikeaGreekP，andthesideboard，andtheaphasiacpiano，andthepanelsonthewall。TherewereRomeoandJuliet，Antwerpfromtheriver，Enfield’sshipsamongtheice，andthehugehuntsmanwindingahugehorn；mingledwiththemafewnewones，thethincropofasucceedinggeneration，notbetterandnotworse。ItwastooneoftheseIwasdirected；
athingcoarselyandwittilyhandled，mostlywiththepalette-
knife，thecolourinsomepartsexcellent，thecanvasinothersloadedwithmereclay。Butitwasthescene，andnottheartorwantofit，thatrivetedmynotice。Theforegroundwasofsandandscrubandwreckwood；inthemiddledistancethemany-
huedandsmoothexpanseofalagoon，enclosedbyawallofbreakers；beyond，abluestripofocean。Theskywascloudless，andIcouldhearthesurfbreak。FortheplacewasMidwayIsland；thepointofviewtheveryspotatwhichIhadlandedwiththecaptainforthefirsttime，andfromwhichIhadre-embarkedthedaybeforewesailed。Ihadalreadybeengazingforsomeseconds，beforemyattentionwasarrestedbyabluronthesea-line；andstoopingtolook，Irecognisedthesmokeofasteamer。
“Yes。”saidI，turningtowardStennis，“ithasmerit。Whatisit？”
“Afancypiece。”hereturned。“That’swhatpleasedme。Sofewofthefellowsinourtimehadtheimaginationofagardensnail。”
“Madden，yousayhisnameis？”Ipursued。
“Madden。”herepeated。
“Hashetravelledmuch？”Iinquired。
“Ihaven’tanidea。Heisoneoftheleastautobiographicalofmen。Hesits，andsmokes，andgiggles，andsometimeshemakessmalljests；buthiscontributionstotheartofpleasingaregenerallyconfinedtolookinglikeagentlemanandbeingone。No。”addedStennis，“he’llneversuityou，Dodd；youlikemoreheadonyourliquor。You’llfindhimasdullasditchwater。”
“Hashebigblondeside-whiskersliketusks？”Iasked，mindfulofthephotographofGoddedaal。
“Certainlynot：whyshouldhe？”wasthereply。
“Doeshewritemanyletters？”Icontinued。
“Godknows。”saidStennis。“Whatiswrongwithyou？Ineversawyoutakenthiswaybefore。”
“Thefactis，IthinkIknowtheman。”saidI。“IthinkI’mlookingforhim。Iratherthinkheismylong-lostbrother。”
“Nottwins，anyway。”returnedStennis。
Andaboutthesametime，acarriagedrivinguptotheinn，hetookhisdeparture。
Iwalkedtilldinner-timeintheplain，keepingtothefields；forI
instinctivelyshunnedobservation，andwasrackedbymanyincongruousandimpatientfeelings。HerewasamanwhosevoiceIhadonceheard，whosedoingshadfilledsomanydaysofmylifewithinterestanddistress，whomIhadlainawaketodreamoflikealover；andnowhishandwasonthedoor；nowweweretomeet；nowIwastolearnatlastthemysteryofthesubstitutedcrew。ThesunwentdownovertheplainoftheAngelus，andasthehourapproached，mycouragelessened。I
letthelaggardpeasantspassmeonthehomewardway。Thelampswerelit，thesoupwasserved，thecompanywereallattable，andtheroomsoundedalreadywithmultitudinoustalkbeforeIentered。ItookmyplaceandfoundIwasoppositetoMadden。Oversixfeethighandwellsetup，thehairdarkandstreakedwithsilver，theeyesdarkandkindly，themouthverygood-natured，theteethadmirable；linenandhandsexquisite；
Englishclothes，anEnglishvoice，anEnglishbearing：themanstoodoutconspicuousfromthecompany。Yethehadmadehimselfathome，andseemedtoenjoyacertainquietpopularityamongthenoisyboysofthetabled’hote。Hehadanodd，silvergiggleofalaugh，thatsoundednervousevenwhenhewasreallyamused，andaccordedillwithhisbigstatureandmanly，melancholyface。ThislaughfellincontinuallyallthroughdinnerlikethenoteofthetriangleinapieceofmodernFrenchmusic；andhehadattimesakindofpleasantry，ratherofmannerthanofwords，withwhichhestartedormaintainedthemerriment。Hetookhisshareinthesediversions，notsomuchlikeamaninhighspirits，butlikeoneofanapprovedgoodnature，habituallyself-forgetful，accustomedtopleaseandtofollowothers。Ihaveremarkedinoldsoldiersmuchthesamesmilingsadnessandsociableself-effacement。
Ifearedtolookathim，lestmyglancesshouldbetraymydeepexcitement，andchanceservedmesowellthatthesoupwasscarceremovedbeforewewerenaturallyintroduced。MyfirstsipofChateauSiron，avintagefromwhichIhadbeenlongestranged，startledmeintospeech。
“O，this’llneverdo！”Icried，inEnglish。
“Dreadfulstuff，isn’tit？”saidMadden，inthesamelanguage。
“Doletmeaskyoutosharemybottle。TheycallitChambertin，whichitisn’t；butit’sfairlypalatable，andthere’snothinginthishousethatamancandrinkatall。”
Iaccepted；anythingwoulddothatpavedthewaytobetterknowledge。
“YournameisMadden，Ithink。”saidI。“MyoldfriendStennistoldmeaboutyouwhenIcame。”
“Yes，Iamsorryhewent；IfeelsuchaGrandfatherWilliam，aloneamongalltheselads。”hereplied。
“MynameisDodd。”Iresumed。
“Yes。”saidhe，“soMadameSirontoldme。”
“Dodd，ofSanFrancisco。”Icontinued。“LateofPinkertonandDodd。”
“MontanaBlock，Ithink？”saidhe。
“Thesame。”saidI。
Neitherofuslookedateachother；butIcouldseehishanddeliberatelymakingbreadpills。
“That’sanicethingofyours。”Ipursued，“thatpanel。Theforegroundisalittleclayey，perhaps，butthelagoonisexcellent。”
“Yououghttoknow。”saidhe。
“Yes。”returnedI，“I’mratheragoodjudgeof——thatpanel。”
Therewasaconsiderablepause。
“YouknowamanbythenameofBellairs，don’tyou？”heresumed。
“Ah！”criedI，“youhaveheardfromDoctorUrquart？”
“Thisverymorning。”hereplied。
“Well，thereisnohurryaboutBellairs。”saidI。“It’sratheralongstoryandratherasillyone。ButIthinkwehaveagooddealtotelleachother，andperhapswehadbetterwaittillwearemorealone。”
“Ithinkso。”saidhe。“NotthatanyofthesefellowsknowEnglish，butwe’llbemorecomfortableoveratmyplace。Yourhealth，Dodd。”
Andwetookwinetogetheracrossthetable。
Thushadthissingularintroductionpassedunperceivedinthemidstofmorethanthirtypersons，artstudents，ladiesindressing-gownsandcoveredwithricepowder，sixfootofSironwhiskingdishesoverourhead，andhisnoisysonsclatteringinandoutwithfreshrelays。
“Onequestionmore。”saidI：“Didyourecognisemyvoice？”
“Yourvoice？”herepeated。“HowshouldI？Ihadneverheardit——wehavenevermet。”
“Andyet，wehavebeeninconversationbeforenow。”saidI，“andIaskedyouaquestionwhichyouneveranswered，andwhichIhavesincehadmanythousandbetterreasonsforputtingtomyself。”
Heturnedsuddenlywhite。“GoodGod！”hecried，“areyouthemaninthetelephone？”
Inodded。
“Well，well！”saidhe。“Itwouldtakeagooddealofmagnanimitytoforgiveyouthat。WhatnightsIhavepassed！
Thatlittlewhisperhaswhistledinmyeareversince，likethewindinakeyhole。Whocoulditbe？Whatcoulditmean？I
supposeIhavehadmorereal，solidmiseryoutofthat。”Hepaused，andlookedtroubled。“ThoughIhadmoretobotherme，oroughttohave。”headded，andslowlyemptiedhisglass。
“Itseemswewereborntodriveeachothercrazywithconundrums。”saidI。“Ihaveoftenthoughtmyheadwouldsplit。”
Carthewburstintohisfoolishlaugh。“AndyetneitheryounorIhadtheworstofthepuzzle。”hecried。“Therewereothersdeeperin。”
“Andwhowerethey？”Iasked。
“Theunderwriters。”saidhe。
“Why，tobesure！”criedI，“Ineverthoughtofthat。Whatcouldtheymakeofit？”