Never before was such a voice! "Why did you stop, Rufus ?" it said.
"Look!" replied the American trousers; so that I knew the pongee lady had not observed me of herself.
Instantaneously there was an exclamation, and a pretty grey parasol, closed, fell at my feet.

It is not the pleasantest to be an object which causes people to be startled when they behold you; but I blessed the agitation of this lady, for what caused her parasol to fall from her hand was a start of pity.
"Ah!" she cried.

"The poor man!" She had perceived that I was a gentleman.
I bent myself forward and lifted the parasol, though not my eyes I could not have looked up into the face above me to be Caesar! Two hands came down into the circle of my observation; one of these was that belonging to the trousers, thin, long, and white; the other was the grey-gloved hand of the lady, and never had I seen such a hand--the hand of an angel in a suede glove, as the grey skirt was the mantle of a saint made by Doucet.

I speak of saints and angels; and to the large world these may sound like cold words .-- It is only in Italy where some people are found to adore them still.
I lifted the parasol toward that glove as I would have moved to set a candle on an altar.

Then, at a thought, I placed it not in the glove, but in the thin hand of the gentleman.