The girl had watched him wonderingly, and said as he returned the
album, "But you are a great artist," and without letting him speak
she went on, "and by your appearance I had taken you for a student!
But you are not in the least like a student, nor in fact like a
German either. I have often met Indian princes in society in London,
and I think you are very much like them."
Wilhelm smiled. "There is a grain of truth in what you say, although
you overrate it a little. A great artist I certainly am not, nor
even a little one, but I have always observed much and painted a
good deal myself, and originally I thought of devoting myself to an
artist's career; and if I have nothing in common with Indian
princes, and am merely a plebeian German, I very likely have a drop
of Indian blood in my veins."
"Really," she said, with curiosity.
"Yes, my mother was a Russian German living in Moscow, and whose
father, a Thuringian, had married a Russian girl of gypsy descent.
Through this grandmother, whom I never knew, I am related by remote
genealogical descent to Indians. But you do not look like a German
either, with your beautiful dark hair and eyebrows."
She took this personal compliment in good part as she answered
quickly:
"There is some reason for that too.
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