He could not think that himself was so bizarre.

Nor was he.

But he looked unusual; as one of high civilisation might, through long absence in primitive countries, return in uncommon clothing, and with a manner of distinguished strangeness: the barbaric to protect the refined, as one has seen a bush of firs set to shelter a wheat-field from a seawind, or a wind-mill water cunningly-begotten flowers.
As he went through the hall other visitors were entering.

They passed him, making for the staircase.

Ladies with the grand air looked at him curiously, and two girls glanced shyly from the jingling spurs and tasselled boots to his rare face.
One of the ladies suddenly gave a little gasping cry, and catching the arm of her companion, said: "Reine, how like Robert Belward! Who--who is he ?" The other coolly put up her pince-nez.