But I did forget it as a child too, at times, and above all in the society of good, kind, simple people like the Valettes, who just left us to ourselves, to amuse ourselves in our own way. For that reason, it would have been ungrateful indeed, if I had not given a corner among my Penates to Marie and her family. The whole remembrance is a pleasant one, beginning with the long walk through the streets of Paris, which we learned to know so well, we could almost have found our way through them blindfold. And the merry party round the dinner-table, for we dined there, and only returned home quite late in the evening. Our garden was too small for the other children to come to play in it with us, and then it would have disturbed the invalids, who had, of course, to be considered first. Both for the sake of the sick people, and of my father’s work, it was no place for noisy games and joyous laughter; we had to creep about like little mice, and it was indeed a relief to us to get away, to escape into a fresher atmosphere, and shake off all the sadness that oppressed our young souls. To have been aided to this was an inestimable boon, and I still think with affection and gratitude of those, to whom we owed those happy hours. CHAPTER XII KARL SOHN, THE PORTRAIT-PAINTER If ever a face on this earth may be said to have been irradiated and illumined by the light of genuine kindliness--of the pure goodness of heart that transcends all other human qualities--it was the countenance of our beloved friend, Karl Sohn, the Düsseldorf artist. His features were not regular, but were refined and spiritualised by the beauty of the soul that shone through, the gentleness of his physiognomy being only enhanced by the commanding character of the lofty, well-chiselled brow, shaded as this was by soft masses of thick fair hair. He was tall of stature, well proportioned and of dignified bearing, his step light and easy, in spite of his great height, and with something almost willowy in his gait; every movement was impregnated with grace and harmony. There was a peculiar charm in his conversation, and this may probably have been in great measure due to the soft deep tones of his finely modulated voice, as clear and caressing as the sound of a silver bell, wrapt in velvet. But much of the fascination doubtless lay in the graceful and appropriate gestures with which he accompanied his words, and which lent singular force to his graphic descriptions. Thus, in expatiating on the beauties of some landscape, words and action seemed to go together to call it up before our eyes, one broad sweep of his well-shaped hand making the undulating line of the distant mountain-range visible to everyone.