It was ugly and somewhat uncouth, with the look of a seeker and of an eccentric, obstinate and strong-willed, with a soft and childish mouth.
The expression of what was strong and manly lay in the eyes and forehead;
on the lower half of the face sat a look of gentleness and immaturity,
rather effeminate and showing a lack of self-mastery.
The chin indicated a boyish indecision, as if in contradiction with the eyes and forehead.
I liked the dark brown eyes, full of pride and hostility.
Silently I took my place opposite him. There was no one else in the tavern.
He glared at me, as if he wished to chase me away.
Nevertheless I maintained my position, looking at him unflinchingly, until at last he growled testily: “What the deuce are you staring at me for?
Do you want anything of me?” “I don’t want anything,” I said.
“You have already given me much.” He wrinkled his forehead.
“Ah, you’re a music enthusiast, are you? I think it’s disgusting to go mad over music.”
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