THE KINGS
OF THE EAST
A Romance of the Near Future
BY
SYDNEY C. GRIER
AUTHOR OF
‘LIKE ANOTHER HELEN,’ ‘A CROWNED QUEEN,’
ETC., ETC.
(_Third in the Balkan Series_)
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCC
_All Rights reserved_
CONTENTS.
I. THE MOVEMENT AND THE MAN.
II. FIRING THE FIRST SHOT.
III. IN SILVER SLIPPERS.
IV. A DISTURBING ELEMENT.
V. THE CROWN MATRIMONIAL.
VI. _DANAOS DONA FERENTES_.
VII. BREAKING WITH THE PAST.
VIII. “A KIND OF WILD JUSTICE.”
IX. VERSIONS DIFFER.
X. TAKING COUNSEL WITH BABES.
XI. EASTWARD HO!
XII. THE CHURCH MILITANT AND ORTHODOX.
XIII. A GROUND OF HOPE.
XIV. NO PLACE OF REPENTANCE.
XV. A FOOL’S ERRAND.
XVI. THE HOUSE OF THE LADY ZENOBIA.
XVII. FACE TO FACE.
XVIII. THE PENALTY OF GREATNESS.
XIX. THE BREAKING-POINT.
XX. _REDINTEGRATIO AMORIS_.
XXI. A NEW FACTOR.
XXII. THE HISTORY OF AN EVENING.
XXIII. MAN AND WIFE.
XXIV. “THE BITTER CLOSE OF ALL.”
THE KINGS OF THE EAST.
CHAPTER I.
THE MOVEMENT AND THE MAN.
It was a brilliant afternoon in late spring, and Vindobona was
taking its pleasure joyously out of doors, as is its wont. The many
parks and gardens of the city were crowded with holiday-makers in
every variety of national costume and speaking the tongues of all the
earth, and in the boulevards of the Ringstrasse a well-dressed throng
made the pavements almost impassable. There was not a vacant seat to
be found at the rows of tables outside each café, where strange and
wonderful liquids were being consumed in vast quantities, but with a
deliberation that implied the possession of unlimited leisure. No one
seemed to have anything to do but to walk and talk, salute his
acquaintances and criticise the rest of the world, pause for a while
to refresh the inner man and then saunter on again, and this was
indeed the case. The true citizen of Vindobona always has time for
holiday-making, whatever other duties he may neglect, and those who
make a study of his weaknesses calculate confidently upon this amiable
peculiarity. This saint’s day afternoon, for instance, there were
gathered, in a room on the second floor of one of the palatial
mansions in the Opera Ring, four men, whose meeting had been
facilitated by the absorption of the populace in its pleasures. One by
one they had made their way to the appointed spot, the private office
of the great financier Israel Goldberg, and here, where a
business-like severity strove with a certain barbaric splendour in the
appointments, they had refreshed themselves with fruit sherbets and
perfumed Eastern tobacco before turning their attention to the matter
upon which they had come together. Some signing of papers and a good
deal of low-toned conversation followed, until at last the host leaned
back in his chair and threw down his pen.
“That is well over,” he said, speaking in German. “The movement is on
the verge of realisation; we only await the man.”
“Just so,” said the venerable Scythian Jew at his right hand; “we need
our Moses.”
“But where is he to be found in this age of doubt and depression?”
asked a sallow-faced young man, with large vague wandering eyes.
The remaining person at the table snorted fiercely. “This is the age
of limited liability,” he said. “Our Moses will take the form of a
syndicate.”
“With the excellent Texelius as managing director?” asked the
Chevalier Goldberg, with a sympathetic smile. “I think not, my dear
friend.”
“I rejoice to hear you say that, Israel,” said the old Rabbi, whose
susceptibilities had been much ruffled by the irreverent remark of Dr
Texelius.
“No,” said the Chevalier, “although we are business men and this is a
business matter, we must return, I fear, to the old ways. Without the
man to whom I hope to present you this afternoon, our movement would
be like a ship without a captain. You, my good Texelius, bring us the
help of science, in my young friend Rubenssohn we have the support of
literature, and our venerable Rabbi Schaul assures us of the blessing
of orthodoxy, while I myself supply the not unnecessary item of money.
But we must, besides all these, have brains.”
Dr Texelius was understood to reply that no gathering which included
himself could be considered deficient in that particular, whatever
might be said of the rest of the company, but his host smiled with
pitying gentleness.
“My good Texelius, we all admit that you are unapproachable in your
own line. You have enabled all the half-educated people in Europe to
gabble a parody of your philosophy with more than your own brutality
of language, and have taught them new bad names to call their
neighbours by. But when it is a matter of conducting diplomatic
negotiations of the highest delicacy, something more is needed.”
“I see no need of diplomacy,” protested Dr Texelius. “We have the
Grand Seignior’s promise, and we hold the money-bags. The Land is
ours, and we have only to keep it, which is an affair of the sword,
not of the tongue.”
“And surely,” said young Rubenssohn, “it is the Gentiles who will sue
for our favour, not we for theirs?”
“Israel will become at once the exemplar and the monitress of the
world,” said the Rabbi. “Her central position, separated from the
nations and yet vitally connected with all of them, her theocratic
government, and the purity of her family life, will make her not only
the model state of the new century, but the natural arbitrator in
international quarrels.”
The Chevalier Goldberg smiled again, but less patiently. “My dear good
friends,” he said, “do you think the world and its inhabitants will
all undergo a radical change because Israel has obtained permission
from Czarigrad to re-colonise Palestine? I tell you that as soon as
our scheme is known, it will become the butt for the malice and
jealousy of the whole earth. The hostile nations will unite against
us; our own friends will be swept into the vortex. To enable us to
surmount the crisis before us, we need a leader of such varied gifts
and experiences as it would seem almost impossible to find combined in
a single individual. In fact, there is only one man in Europe, perhaps
in the world, who possesses them, and I expect him here in a few
minutes.”
“And who may this heaven-sent leader be?” sneered Dr Texelius.
“I see him now, coming round the corner of the Opera-house,” pursued
the Chevalier, who from his seat by the window could obtain a view
through the openings of the sun-blind. “That is he--the short man with
the light moustache.”
“An Englishman, evidently,” said Rubenssohn; “or he would not walk to
keep an appointment when he might drive.”
“Right, Herschel my son. He is an Englishman. But,” and the Chevalier
dropped the blind which he had partially drawn up, and turned away
from the window and the sounds of voices, laughter, and crowding
footfalls which it admitted, “he is also a true cosmopolitan. For over
ten years he was a king in all but name, and might, had he cared to do
it, have married a queen.”
“What! You too have been taken captive by the Mortimer idea?” cried Dr
Texelius. “Our Thracian friends can’t find words to deplore his loss.
To hear them one might indeed think him Moses and David rolled into
one.”
“Is your friend really the man who was Prime Minister of Thracia, and
was overthrown by foreign intrigues the day that the young King
attained his majority, Chevalier?” asked Rubenssohn eagerly. “He has
always seemed to me a heroic figure in an unheroic age.”
“What I want to know is, how much are you going to pay him?”
vociferated Dr Texelius, while the Chevalier smiled rather drily.
Before he could answer the question, a deferential servant at the door
announced “His Excellency Count Mortimer,” and ushered in a
grey-haired man, whose keen blue eyes appeared to take the measure of
all the occupants of the room at a single glance.
“Ah, my frient! You hef arrifed, den?” cried the Chevalier in English.
“Beholt us all awaitink your pleassure. Dis fenerable clerchymen iss
our goot frient de Rabbi Schaul, and here iss de worlt-renowned
scientist Dr Texelius. Dis younk men iss Herschel Rubenssohn, de Poet
off de Ghetto, a redical in theory, but aristocret by nature.”
The Chevalier laughed meaningly, for while the Rabbi had risen from
his chair and bowed low at the introduction, not without a touch of
the servility of manner natural to one who sees a probable and
powerful enemy in every man of superior rank, Rubenssohn had
half-risen and then resumed his seat, conscious of the critical eye of
Dr Texelius, who acknowledged the stranger’s entrance merely by a nod.
Count Mortimer was accustomed to associate with kings and queens, and
Dr Texelius was an austere Republican, hating an aristocrat, moreover,
as an anomaly in nature--a specimen which would not allow itself to be
weighed and measured and labelled by his philosophy. Aristocrats
worshipped an absurd fetish called honour, some of the manifestations
of which could by no means be reduced to the profit and loss
denominator to which he referred all human actions, and for some
reason or other these same misguided people regarded themselves as
superior to him. It was evident, at least, that this one did, or what
was the meaning of the scarcely veiled irony in his glance as, after
shaking hands with the Chevalier, he bowed to the rest?
“I am fortunate,” said Count Mortimer, “in meeting two gentlemen of
such European reputation as Dr Texelius and Mr Rubenssohn. Of Dr
Schaul I heard much while I lived in Thracia; and when I learned that
he was throwing himself heartily into this movement, it seemed to me a
fact of the happiest augury for the future.”
“And pray, noble sir, are we to think the same of your own connection
with the movement?” asked Dr Texelius.
“The answer to that question lies largely in your own hands, Herr
Professor. Am I to rely upon your loyal support, or not?”
“My dear Count,” interposed the host, in German, “these gentlemen are
prepared to support you to the utmost of their power. I have just made
them see that without your kind offices we could have no hope of
success.”
“I am glad to hear it, Chevalier. Perhaps it will set our friends’
minds at ease if I explain, first of all, that I derive no pecuniary
benefit from my connection with the movement. A busy man does not take
kindly to an idle life, and I am glad to employ my leisure for so good
an object.”
“And do you wish us to understand that you cut yourself off from your
class, and range yourself on the side of Israel in the sight of the
world, purely for the sake of occupation and philanthropy?” snarled Dr
Texelius.
“Herr Professor, I am a man who has not a little to avenge. If I
choose to combine my own pleasure with the advantage of your nation,
you will do well to be thankful and accept my help. Do we understand
one another?”
“Your Excellency does not mince matters, nor will I. What guarantee
have we that the interests of Israel will not be sacrificed to your
own?”
“Your frankness charms me. You have no guarantee. But without my help
the interests of Israel will remain where they are at present.”
“Prove it!” shouted Dr Texelius. “How are we to know that you have the
power to do what you pretend?”
“Simply by waiting to see. But do not mistake me, Herr Professor. I
believe that you and Mr Rubenssohn enjoy considerable influence with
the Jewish press. If we are to work together that influence must be
employed exclusively and loyally on my side, which is your own. Should
there be the slightest attempt to weaken my position, or to form a
cabal against me among your followers, I shall take my choice between
getting rid of you and ceasing my efforts on behalf of Israel, which
will then be far worse off than it is now. Do I make myself plain?”
“Your Excellency’s demand is only reasonable,” said Rubenssohn; while
Dr Texelius spluttered inarticulately. “Such influence as a poor poet
may possess is placed unreservedly at your service.”
“And if your influence is used wrongly, my excellent Texelius,” said
the Chevalier Goldberg, “I shall find myself under the painful
necessity of ceasing to finance your newspapers, when the annoyance
will die a natural death.”
“My fears are not for myself,” was the sulky response. “If the Gentile
is loyal to Zion, he shall have my support. But what reason is there
for his joining us, and what good can he do us? That’s what I want to
know.”
“Friend,” said the Rabbi reprovingly, “if the noble gentleman is
willing to forsake his own people and cast in his lot with Israel, is
it for us to sneer at his chivalrous offer and throw doubt upon his
motives? Surely he is one of the sons of the stranger who shall build
the walls of Zion.”
Cyril Mortimer bowed gravely to the Rabbi. “I give Dr Texelius free
leave to trust me in private no further than he can see me, provided
that he supports me in public,” he said. “And now that this is
settled, perhaps we may come to a clear understanding of the position.
Through my friend the Chevalier Goldberg I am informed that you,
gentlemen, form the executive of the guild called the Children of
Zion, that your object is to colonise Palestine with Jews from Europe,
buying out the present inhabitants where necessary, and that you are
in command of a certain sum of money for this purpose, invested on
proper security in a series of commercial schemes?”
“Of which the control is in Jewish hands,” interjected Dr Texelius.
“Quite so. I understand also that the Chevalier has volunteered to
bear the entire cost of obtaining the necessary concession from Roum,
leaving you at liberty to devote the whole of your trust-funds to the
work of colonisation. Indeed, gentlemen, you are to be congratulated.
What with a sum of money to be paid down at the outset, and a yearly
rent for the province, together with the necessary compensation,
palm-oil, and perquisites, my friend will sacrifice a very large part
of his fortune in giving your movement a favourable start. I honour
his motives, and I only hope you appreciate his generosity.”
“If Goldberg had shown this generosity ten years ago, the Land would
be already repopulated by a thriving race of colonists,” said Dr
Texelius.
“There, Herr Professor, you are in error. The Chevalier could not show
this generosity ten years ago for two reasons. In the first place, it
has been the labour of years for him to establish the agreement now
arrived at between the Jews of all nations, by which they bind
themselves to assist the Children of Zion by bringing pressure on
their respective Governments when it is needed. Without this
solidarity of action, a band of selfish plutocrats in any one country
might have overthrown the whole scheme. And in the second place, ten
years ago I was not at liberty to devote myself to assuring the
success of the movement.”
“Which is now secured by your Excellency’s adhesion.” The tone was
sarcastic in the extreme.
“You are very good, Herr Professor. To me it falls to direct the
working of this new machine. Without a single head, to ensure the
application of the pressure at the right moment and the right spot,
the financial union would soon break up, or at best fall to pieces. It
is my aim to produce the necessary effect before disintegration sets
in, and I may say I have every hope of success. The Children of Zion
may colonise Palestine, but it is the United Nation Syndicate that
will make their work possible.”
“Under your Excellency’s guidance.”
“I hope so. You will perceive now the necessity there is for absolute
unanimity. Our enemies will be on the watch for the slightest sign of
dissension. There is one point upon which it may be desirable to give
you a special warning. You are aware of the fanaticism of the
Scythians and others with regard to the Holy Places? Now I think it
highly probable that I shall be obliged to consent to the appointment
of a Christian prince as governor-general, as a guarantee against
their desecration.”
“Oho, the thin end of the wedge!” cried Dr Texelius. “A Christian
governor--a prince, too--with a Christian Court and army and
executive. Where is our free and independent republic, in which the
Jew might at last obtain security and justice? Rubenssohn--Rabbi--you
have heard the Gentile speak, will you still believe that his forked
tongue utters truth?”
“Friend Texelius, you insult his Excellency,” said Rabbi Schaul. “How
can it signify to us what precautions the Gentiles take in the vain
hope of maintaining their ascendancy over Zion? Of what use would it
be to us to draw up the wisest republican constitution, which would
last but a day? Once we are restored to the land, He will come whose
right it is to reign, and neither Christian prince nor atheistic
republic can stand against Him.”
“Beautiful dream!” murmured Rubenssohn, his eyes kindling, “but it is
only a dream. A literal Messiah is an impossibility. The house of
David is extinct, the monarchical principle incapable of revival among
us. The Grand Seignior may play the part of the Messiah in bringing us
back, or there may be before us a Messianic age of peace and plenty,
such as the prophets picture, but we need look for nothing more.”
“Young man, will you limit the Holy One of Israel? A few years ago
this return, for which we are planning, was counted impossible, but it
is now at hand. The appearance and reign of Messiah will follow in due
time.”
“Rabbi, you are a dreamer!” cried Dr Texelius angrily. “Will you allow
your absurd visions to interfere with practical politics?”
“Visions? You call the prophecies of the Divine Word absurd visions?”
cried the Rabbi, trembling with mingled anger and alarm. “Let me go,
Israel Goldberg. I dare not sit at the same table as this unbeliever.”
“No, no; Texelius spoke more strongly than he intended,” said the
Chevalier, whose hair had grown grey in the endeavour to induce the
orthodox and free-thinking sections of his co-religionists to work
together. “He has the highest respect for your views, Rabbi, and I, as
you know, share them.”
“Well, let him show his respect for the prophecies by abandoning his
opposition to Count Mortimer,” said the old man, supporting himself
with his shaking hands upon the table, “or I must withdraw from all
association with him, and call upon my flock to do the same.”
“I agree,” said Dr Texelius hastily, for the defection of Rabbi
Schaul’s following would have been a serious blow to the movement.
“Perhaps you will own some day, Rabbi, that it would have been better
to take the advice of a practical man, but by all means let us all
become dreamers together.”
“If the learned Dr Texelius had listened more carefully to what I
said,” remarked Cyril, “he would have noticed that I proposed only to
consent to the appointment, not to make it. That will be the business
of the Powers, and while they are wrangling over it we are
establishing ourselves in Palestine.”
“But they will soon perceive that,” said Rubenssohn.
“True; but I shall propose a commission, composed of the various
consuls, to take charge of the Holy Places until the governor is
appointed. That will lead to further wrangling, but it will only give
us more time.”
“But why is time so necessary?” asked Rubenssohn.
“To enable us to import our Jews. You understand, Dr Texelius, there
must be no interference with Christian communities or forcible
dispossession of Moslems, nothing to give a pretext for European
intervention. If you can’t buy one piece of ground easily, turn to
another. Do everything quietly, settle your Jews wherever there is
room for them, and then we can confidently demand a _plébiscite_ of
the whole country, if we see the opportunity, or at least ask
permission to elect a temporary governor until the Powers have agreed
on their nominee. I need scarcely say that if the colonists possessed
a spark of gratitude, their choice would fall on Dr Texelius, and the
Powers might even be brought to confirm that appointment.”
“So!” cried Dr Texelius, with evident pleasure, “I perceive that you
are not wholly a dreamer, Count.”
“Few men less so, Herr Professor. We are agreed, then? You will hurry
on your part of the work by every means in your power, while I do my
best to keep the attention of Europe fixed upon side-issues?”
“And if you are agreed upon that,” cried the host, when the rest had
signified their assent, “it would be as well for us to separate. I
have been on thorns all the afternoon, lest the police should have
noticed you coming to this house, friends. Unless the movement is to
be rudely checked, you ought all to be on your way back to your own
countries to-night.”
At this very plain hint the conference broke up, its members leaving
the mansion singly. The Rabbi went first, shuffling down the grand
staircase in his shabby clothes, a decrepit figure in whom the most
lynx-eyed police agent would have found a difficulty in recognising
the chief spiritual guide of multitudes of orthodox Jews in Pannonia
and Southern Scythia. Rubenssohn, who had lived in England long enough
to pass on the Continent for an Englishman, left the house openly, but
by a different door, after taking a reverential farewell of Cyril, Dr
Texelius utilising the moment by whispering to the Chevalier--
“I have classified your friend, Goldberg. His ambition is enormous,
amounting, indeed, to mania. If Europe will not admire him, Europe may
hate him, but it shall not disregard him.”
And Dr Texelius stumped down the stairs with an aggressive air
peculiarly his own, which he joined on this occasion with the
stateliness of demeanour proper to the future president of the Hebrew
Republic. Meeting on the threshold a young Jewish _savant_, who had
made the great philosopher’s acquaintance at a scientific congress, he
responded affably to the timid greeting of the neophyte, and piqued
his curiosity by informing him that he had just been investigating a
very interesting case of lunacy.
Cyril and the Chevalier Goldberg, left alone together, looked at one
another and smiled as the Professor’s footsteps died away.
“Well, Count,” said the host, “you hef seen our tools. What iss de
prospect off your beink able to work wid dem?”
“The Rabbi is a fanatic and Rubenssohn an enthusiast,” was the reply;
“but I had rather work with either of them than with our scientific
friend. There is no one so suspicious as the man who has neither faith
nor enthusiasm himself. However, we can’t afford to have his influence
arrayed against us, so we must make the best of him.”
“Den you hef decided to ranche yourself on our side? What are your
plens, my dear Count?”
“I think it will be best to go to Ludwigsbad, as I intended. Every one
will be there this season.”
“True; all de great people, but you will be greater den any. Oh, my
frient, let me hef my way about dis. You shell treffel like a prince,
you shell hef a whole wink of de best hotel resserfed for you. De
worlt shell see det Israel iss not ungrateful to de Christian det
helps her.”
“I thought we had threshed this matter out already, Chevalier. Can’t
you see that the more I am seen to act on my own initiative, and the
less as the agent of the United Nation, the better it is for both of
us? I am the friendly go-between, the honest broker, no more. My
out-of-pocket expenses I will accept, but nothing else, not even a
commission. Living modestly, they can scarcely accuse me of having
been bought by you, the next step to which would be that they would
try to offer a higher price themselves.”
“I see you are right, but I must hef your promise det you will not
spare me in de way off expense. Entertainments, chourneys,
telegrephs--nothink must be wantink det might lighten your labours or
edd to de success off your mission. You promise me dis? And det second
secretary you talked off--you will let me profide you wid de best I
can find?”
“Thanks, Chevalier, but I won’t have a Jew. Anything that would
identify me in the general mind with your nation is to be avoided. I
think of getting an Englishman, as the fellow will be more for
ornament than use. Paschics is a perfect glutton for work, but when he
is thrown into general society he cannot forget that he began life as
a farm-labourer, and he becomes either servile or truculent. No one
knows and regrets the fact better than he does, and he suggested
himself that I should have some one else to receive visitors and do
the light work, while he grapples with the bulk of it behind the
scenes as he always has done.”
“You hef indeed an atteched follower, Count.”
“_One_ attached follower, you may as well say, Chevalier, unless you
count my servant, who is a faithful fool of the same sort.”
“My frient,” the Chevalier laid aside his smiling mask, and approached
Cyril with intense solemnity as he stood leaning against the
window-frame, “I must ask you once more, hef you counted de cost off
throwink in your lot wid us? At pressent, you are de most successful
failure in Europe. Dere iss not one sofereign det would not obtain
your help if he could, not one state det would not be enxious if deir
enemies were employink you. You are receifed eferywhere, you may merry
whom you please--for dere are heiresses off de noblest femilies det
would think nothink off gifink you deir whole fortune, if only dey
might accompany it--you are de frient off all de most powerful people.
Will you gif up all dis for de sake off de oppressed Chews? We know
what contempt--ill-treatment--iss like, for we are born to it; but
you, a Christian and a noble, how will you bear it? Dey will treat you
worse den us, for dey will say you are a traitor to dem.”
“My dear Chevalier,” the sarcasm had left Cyril’s tone, and he looked
at the stout little Jew with an earnestness almost equalling his own,
“you are wasting your pity on me. After the knock-down blow I got two
years ago, I must fight my way up again from the foot of the hill, and
it won’t make it any harder to do it in your cause. What I want is
power, and with reasonable luck I stand to get it by means of this
scheme. As to the personal consequences, don’t trouble yourself about
them. I knew what it was to be socially ostracised long ago in
Thracia, and it did me no harm. I shall continue to be received
wherever I like to go. As to marrying, there is only one woman in the
world that I would choose to marry, and she is out of my reach
already. I am committed to this enterprise, and I have no wish to draw
back. Now what is it that has led you to make me this undesired offer
of release?”
“Dere iss noose from Czarigrad,” answered the Chevalier, in a tone in
which relief blended with disappointment. “Chust before our meetink
to-day I receifed a secret message det Hercynia hed discofered our
negotiations wid Roum, and was puttink pressure on de Grand Seignior
to refuse us our concession. Dey must hef heard off your fissit to his
Machesty.”
“Ah, this is the declaration of war, then! Well, I am glad Hercynia
has opened the ball, because I have such an excellent object-lesson in
store for her. Let me see, Baron de la Mothe von Elterthal passes
through Vindobona to-morrow on his way home from Czarigrad. He will
spend a few hours here with his sister, Countess Temeszy. Count
Temeszy is an old friend of my brother’s, and will get me an interview
without making any fuss. I shall see him to-night at the Opera, and we
will settle things then. To-morrow the Chancellor shall have his
warning, and we shall see whether it is necessary to proceed to
extremities.”
“Once you hef approached him on behalf off Israel, dere will be no
drawink-back,” said the Chevalier.
“There is none now. Well, Chevalier, I must be going.”
“But you will lose no time in seekink det noo secretary?”
“Certainly not. My brother will help me in the matter. There was a
young fellow hanging about at Llandiarmid the last time I was there
who would suit me well enough, but I daresay he has found something
better to do by this time.”
“Farewell den, my frient. You may depend on me to keep you well posted
in all de mofements off de enemy. I hef efery confidence in you, but I
entreat you not to spare expense.”
Cyril smiled as he succeeded in making his escape. It would have been
a standing marvel to him, had he been inclined to waste time in
theorising on the weaknesses of human nature instead of profiting by
them, that the great financier, whose name ensured respect throughout
the civilised world, should repose this absolute and deferential
confidence in an unsuccessful statesman, whose sole political capital
was now his vast experience, and a certain strength of head, combined
with coldness of heart, which had much advantaged him in the past. But
Cyril was one who took things as he found them, and made prompt use of
them; and the doglike fidelity with which the Chevalier Goldberg clung
to his fallen fortunes struck him merely as a very serviceable fact,
which, though it might be strange, was by no means to be neglected.