On the wall above this table, but within easy reach of the sitter's
hand, hung a couple of narrow hanging shelves, on which a few books
were neatly arranged. One lay open on the table, with a shoemaker's
last placed across it to prevent its closing.
Eliab was already busily engaged in reading the certificate which
Nimbus had given him. The sun, now near its setting, shone in at
the open door and fell upon him as he read. He was a man apparently
about the age of Nimbus--younger rather than older--having a fine
countenance, almost white, but with just enough of brown in its
sallow paleness to suggest the idea of colored blood, in a region
where all degrees of admixture were by no means rare. A splendid
head of black hair waved above his broad, full forehead, and an
intensely black silky beard and mustache framed the lower portion
of his face most fittingly. His eyes were soft and womanly, though
there was a patient boldness about their great brown pupils and a
directness of gaze which suited well the bearded face beneath. The
lines of suffering were deeply cut upon the thoughtful brow and
around the liquid eyes, and showed in the mobile workings of the
broad mouth, half shaded by the dark mustache. The face was not
a handsome one, but there was a serious and earnest calmness about
it which gave it an unmistakable nobility of expression and prompted
one to look more closely at the man and his surroundings.
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