" This dark young man, on the other hand, was just what he should be — Charlie Ledwyche’s physical and temperamental opposite. There was something, she decided, elemental about him. When the lights went down again they danced “Apres-midi d’un Faune.” Shyly
glancing at him, while the oboe reedily skipped and quavered above a shimmer of strings, she knew that — apart from the whiskers — there was something southern
about his pale face. He was like a sleek-skinned faun himself. The light in those lazy, black-fringed eyes was undeniably pagan. "

― Francis Brett Young , The Cage Bird and Other Stories