"Upon my word you preach very eloquently against wealth!" I said--"You
yourself are unusually rich,--are you sorry for it?"
"No, I am not sorry, because being sorry would be no use"--he
returned--"And I never waste my time. But I am telling you the
truth--Genius and great riches hardly ever pull together. Now I, for
example,--you cannot imagine what great capabilities I had once!--a long
time ago--before I became my own master!"
"And you have them still I am sure"--I averred, looking expressively at
his noble head and fine eyes.
The strange subtle smile I had noticed once or twice before lightened
his face. "Ah, you mean to compliment me!" he said--"You like my
looks,--many people do. Yet after all there is nothing so deceptive as
one's outward appearance. The reason of this is that as soon as
childhood is past, we are always pretending to be what we are not,--and
thus, with constant practice from our youth up, we manage to make our
physical frames complete disguises for our actual selves. It is really
wise and clever of us,--for hence each individual is so much flesh-wall
through which neither friend nor enemy can spy. Every man is a solitary
soul imprisoned in a self-made den,--when he is quite alone he knows and
frequently hates himself,--sometimes he even gets afraid of the gaunt
and murderous monster he keeps hidden behind his outwardly pleasant
body-mask, and hastens to forget its frightful existence in drink and
debauchery. That is what I do occasionally,--you would not think it of
me, would you?"
"Never!" I replied quickly, for something in his voice and aspect moved
me strangely--"You belie yourself, and wrong your own nature."
He laughed softly.
"Perhaps I do!" he said carelessly--"This much you may believe of
me--that I am no worse than most men! Now to return to the subject of
your literary career,--you have written a book, you say,--well, publish
it and see the result--if you only make one 'hit' that is something. And
there are ways of arranging that the 'hit' shall be made. What is your
story about? I hope it is improper?"
"It certainly is not;"--I replied warmly--"It is a romance dealing with
the noblest forms of life and highest ambitions;--I wrote it with the
intention of elevating and purifying the thoughts of my readers, and
wished if I could, to comfort those who had suffered loss or sorrow--"
Rimânez smiled compassionately.
"Ah, it won't do!" he interrupted--"I assure you it won't;--it doesn't
fit the age. It might go down, possibly, if you could give a
'first-night' of it as it were to the critics, like one of my most
intimate friends, Henry Irving,--a 'first-night' combined with an
excellent supper and any amount of good drinks going. Otherwise it's no
use. If it is to succeed by itself, it must not attempt to be
literature,--it must simply be indecent. As indecent as you can make it
without offending advanced women,--that is giving you a good wide
margin. Put in as much as you can about sexual matters and the bearing
of children,--in brief, discourse of men and women simply as cattle who
exist merely for breeding purposes, and your success will be enormous.
There's not a critic living who won't applaud you,--there's not a
school-girl of fifteen who will not gloat over your pages in the silence
of her virginal bedroom!"
Such a flash of withering derision darted from his eyes as startled
me,--I could find no words to answer him for the moment, and he went
on--
"What put it into your head, my dear Tempest, to write a book dealing
with, as you say, 'the noblest forms of life'? There are no noble forms
of life left on this planet,--it is all low and commercial,--man is a
pigmy, and his aims are pigmy like himself. For noble forms of life seek
other worlds!--there _are_ others. Then again, people don't want their
thoughts raised or purified in the novels they read for amusement--they
go to church for that, and get very bored during the process. And why
should you wish to comfort folks who, out of their own sheer stupidity
generally, get into trouble? They wouldn't comfort _you_,--they would
not give you sixpence to save you from starvation. My good fellow, leave
your quixotism behind you with your poverty. Live your life to
yourself,--if you do anything for others they will only treat you with
the blackest ingratitude,--so take my advice, and don't sacrifice your
own personal interests for any consideration whatever."
He rose from the table as he spoke and stood with his back to the bright
fire, smoking his cigar tranquilly,--and I gazed at his handsome figure
and face with just the faintest thrill of pained doubt darkening my
admiration.
"If you were not so good-looking I should call you heartless"--I said at
last--"But your features are a direct contradiction to your words. You
have not really that indifference to human nature which you strive to
assume,--your whole aspect betokens a generosity of spirit which you
cannot conquer if you would. Besides, are you not always trying to do
good?"
He smiled.
"Always! That is, I am always at work endeavouring to gratify every
man's desire. Whether that is good of me, or bad, remains to be proved.
Men's wants are almost illimitable,--the only thing none of them ever
seem to wish, so far as I am concerned, is to cut my acquaintance!"
"Why, of course not! After once meeting you, how could they!" I said,
laughing at the absurdity of the suggestion.
He gave me a whimsical side-look.
"Their desires are not always virtuous," he remarked, turning to flick
off the ash of his cigar into the grate.
"But of course you do not gratify them in their vices!" I rejoined,
still laughing--"That would be playing the part of a benefactor somewhat
too thoroughly!"
"Ah now I see we shall flounder in the quicksands of theory if we go any
further"--he said--"You forget, my dear fellow, that nobody can decide
as to what _is_ vice, or what _is_ virtue. These things are
chameleon-like, and take different colours in different countries.
Abraham had two or three wives and several concubines, and he was the
very soul of virtue according to sacred lore,--whereas my Lord Tom-Noddy
in London to-day has one wife and several concubines, and is really very
much like Abraham in other particulars, yet he is considered a very
dreadful person. 'Who shall decide when doctors disagree!' Let's drop
the subject, as we shall never settle it. What shall we do with the rest
of the evening? There is a stout-limbed, shrewd wench at the Tivoli,
dancing her way into the affections of a ricketty little Duke,--shall we
go and watch the admirable contortions with which she is wriggling into
a fixed position among the English aristocracy? Or are you tired, and
would you prefer a long night's rest?"
To tell the truth I was thoroughly fatigued, and mentally as well as
physically worn out with the excitements of the day,--my head too was
heavy with the wine to which I had so long been unaccustomed.
"Upon my word I think I would rather go to bed than anything--" I
confessed--"But what about my room?"
"Oh, Amiel will have attended to that for you,--we'll ask him." And he
touched the bell. His valet instantly appeared.
"Have you got a room for Mr Tempest?"
"Yes, your Excellency. An apartment in this corridor almost facing your
Excellency's suite. It is not as well furnished as it might be, but I
have made it as comfortable as I can for the night."
"Thanks very much!" I said--"I am greatly obliged to you."
Amiel bowed deferentially.
"Thank _you_, sir."
He retired, and I moved to bid my host good-night. He took my proffered
hand, and held it in his, looking at me curiously the while.
"I like you, Geoffrey Tempest;" he said--"And because I like you, and
because I think there are the makings of something higher than mere
earthy brute in you, I am going to make you what you may perhaps
consider rather a singular proposition. It is this,--that if you don't
like _me_, say so at once, and we will part now, before we have time to
know anything more of each other, and I will endeavour not to cross your
path again unless you seek me out. But if on the contrary, you do like
me,--if you find something in my humour or turn of mind congenial to
your own disposition, give me your promise that you will be my friend
and comrade for a while, say for a few months at any rate. I can take
you into the best society, and introduce you to the prettiest women in
Europe as well as the most brilliant men. I know them all, and I believe
I can be useful to you. But if there is the smallest aversion to me
lurking in the depths of your nature"--here he paused,--then resumed
with extraordinary solemnity--"in God's name give it full way and let me
go,--because I swear to you in all sober earnest that I am not what I
seem!"
Strongly impressed by his strange look and stranger manner, I hesitated
one moment,--and on that moment, had I but known it, hung my future. It
was true,--I had felt a passing shadow of distrust and repulsion for
this fascinating yet cynical man, and he seemed to have guessed it. But
now every suspicion of him vanished from my mind, and I clasped his hand
with renewed heartiness.
"My dear fellow, your warning comes too late!" I said
mirthfully--"Whatever you are, or whatever you choose to think you are,
I find you most sympathetic to my disposition, and I consider myself
most fortunate in knowing you. My old friend Carrington has indeed done
me a good turn in bringing us together, and I assure you I shall be
proud of your companionship. You seem to take a perverse delight in
running yourself down!--but you know the old adage, 'the devil is not so
black as he is painted'?"
"And that is true!" he murmured dreamily--"Poor devil! His faults are no
doubt much exaggerated by the clergy! And so we are to be friends?"
"I hope so! I shall not be the first to break the compact!"
His dark eyes rested upon me thoughtfully, yet there seemed to be a
lurking smile in them as well.
"Compact is a good word"--he said--"So,--a compact we will consider it.
I meant to improve your material fortunes,--you can dispense with that
aid now; but I think I can still be of service in pushing you on in
society. And love--of course you will fall in love if you have not
already done so,--have you?"
"Not I!" I answered quickly, and with truth--"I have seen no woman yet
who perfectly fulfils my notions of beauty."
He burst out laughing violently.
"Upon my word you are not wanting in audacity!" he said--"Nothing but
perfect beauty will suit you, eh? But consider, my friend, you, though a
good-looking well-built man, are not yourself quite a Phoebus Apollo!"
"That has nothing to do with the matter"--I rejoined--"A man should
choose a wife with a careful eye to his own personal gratification, in
the same way that he chooses horses or wine,--perfection or nothing."
"And the woman?"--Rimânez demanded, his eyes twinkling.
"The woman has really no right of choice"--I responded,--for this was my
pet argument and I took pleasure in setting it forth--"She must mate
wherever she has the chance of being properly maintained. A man is
always a man,--a woman is only a man's appendage, and without beauty she
cannot put forth any just claim to his admiration or his support."
"Right!--very right, and logically argued!"--he exclaimed, becoming
preternaturally serious in a moment--"I myself have no sympathy with the
new ideas that are in vogue concerning the intellectuality of woman. She
is simply the female of man,--she has no real soul save that which is a
reflex of his, and being destitute of logic, she is incapable of forming
a correct opinion on any subject. All the imposture of religion is kept
up by this unmathematical hysterical creature,--and it is curious,
considering how inferior a being she is, what mischief she has contrived
to make in the world, upsetting the plans of the wisest kings and
counsellors, who as mere men, should undoubtedly have mastered her! And
in the present age she is becoming more than ever unmanageable."
"It is only a passing phase"--I returned carelessly--"A fad got up by a
few unloved and unlovable types of the feminine sex. I care very little
for women--I doubt whether I shall ever marry."
"Well you have plenty of time to consider, and amuse yourself with the
fair ones, _en passant_"--he said watching me narrowly--"And in the
meantime I can take you round the different marriage-markets of the
world if you choose, though the largest one of them all is of course
this very metropolis. Splendid bargains to be had, my dear
friend!--wonderful blonde and brunette specimens going really very
cheap. We'll examine them at our leisure. I'm glad you have yourself
decided that we are to be comrades,--for I am proud;--I may say damnably
proud;--and never stay in any man's company when he expresses the
slightest wish to be rid of me. Good-night!"
"Good-night!" I responded. We clasped hands again and they were still
interlocked, when a sudden flash of lightning blazed vividly across the
room, followed instantaneously by a terrific clap of thunder. The
electric lights went out, and only the glow of the fire illumined our
faces. I was a little startled and confused,--the prince stood still,
quite unconcerned, his eyes shining like those of a cat in the darkness.
"What a storm!" he remarked lightly--"Such thunder in winter is rather
unusual. Amiel!"
The valet entered, his sinister countenance resembling a white mask made
visible in the gloom.
"These lamps have gone out,"--said his master--"It's very odd that
civilized humanity has not yet learned the complete management of the
electric light. Can you put them in order, Amiel?"
"Yes, your excellency." And in a few moments, by some dexterous
manipulation which I did not understand and could not see, the
crystal-cased jets shone forth again with renewed brilliancy. Another
peal of thunder crashed overhead, followed by a downpour of rain.
"Really remarkable weather for January,"--said Rimânez, again giving me
his hand--"Good-night my friend! Sleep well."
"If the anger of the elements will permit!" I returned, smiling.
"Oh, never mind the elements. Man has nearly mastered them or soon will
do so, now that he is getting gradually convinced there is no Deity to
interfere in his business. Amiel, show Mr Tempest to his room."
Amiel obeyed, and crossing the corridor, ushered me into a large,
luxurious apartment, richly furnished, and lit up by the blaze of a
bright fire. The comforting warmth shone welcome upon me as I entered,
and I who had not experienced such personal luxury since my boyhood's
days, felt more than ever overpowered by the jubilant sense of my sudden
extraordinary good fortune. Amiel waited respectfully, now and then
furtively glancing at me with an expression which to my fancy had
something derisive in it.
"Is there anything I can do for you sir?" he inquired.
"No thank you,"--I answered, endeavouring to throw an accent of careless
condescension into my voice--for somehow I felt this man must be kept
strictly in his place--"you have been very attentive,--I shall not
forget it."
A slight smile flickered over his features.
"Much obliged to you, sir. Good-night."
And he retired, leaving me alone. I paced the room up and down more
dreamily than consciously, trying to think,--trying to set in order the
amazing events of the day, but my brain was still dazed and confused,
and the only image of actual prominence in my mind was the striking and
remarkable personality of my new friend Rimânez. His extraordinary good
looks, his attractive manner, his curious cynicism which was so oddly
mixed with some deeper sentiment to which I could not give a name, all
the trifling yet uncommon peculiarities of his bearing and humour
haunted me and became indissolubly mingled as it were with myself and
all the circumstances concerning me. I undressed before the fire,
listening drowsily to the rain, and the thunder which was now dying off
into sullen echoes.
"Geoffrey Tempest, the world is before you--" I said, apostrophizing
myself indolently--"you are a young man,--you have health, a good
appearance, and brains,--added to these you now have five millions of
money, and a wealthy prince for your friend. What more do you want of
Fate or Fortune? Nothing,--except fame! And that you will get easily,
for now-a-days even fame is purchaseable--like love. Your star is in the
ascendant,--no more literary drudgery for you my boy!--pleasure and
profit and ease are yours to enjoy for the rest of your life. You are a
lucky dog!--at last you have your day!"
I flung myself upon the soft bed, and settled myself to sleep,--and as I
dozed off, I still heard the rumble of heavy thunder in the distance.
Once I fancied I heard the prince's voice calling "Amiel! Amiel!" with a
wildness resembling the shriek of an angry wind,--and at another moment
I started violently from a profound slumber under the impression that
someone had approached and was looking fixedly at me. I sat up in bed,
peering into the darkness, for the fire had gone out;--then I turned on
a small electric night-lamp at my side which fully illumined the
room,--there was no one there. Yet my imagination played me such tricks
before I could rest again that I thought I heard a hissing whisper near
me that said--
"Peace! Trouble him not. Let the fool in his folly sleep!"
V
The next morning on rising I learned that 'his excellency' as Prince
Rimânez was called by his own servants and the employés of the 'Grand,'
had gone out riding in the Park, leaving me to breakfast alone. I
therefore took that meal in the public room of the hotel, where I was
waited upon with the utmost obsequiousness, in spite of my shabby
clothes, which I was of course still compelled to wear, having no
change. When would I be pleased to lunch? At what hour would I dine?
Should my present apartment be retained?--or was it not satisfactory?
Would I prefer a 'suite' similar to that occupied by his excellency? All
these deferential questions first astonished and then amused me,--some
mysterious agency had evidently conveyed the rumour of my wealth among
those best fitted to receive it, and here was the first result. In reply
I said my movements were uncertain,--I should be able to give definite
instructions in the course of a few hours, and that in the meantime I
retained my room. The breakfast over I sallied forth to go to my
lawyers, and was just about to order a hansom when I saw my new friend
coming back from his ride. He bestrode a magnificent chestnut mare,
whose wild eyes and strained quivering limbs showed she was fresh from a
hard gallop and was scarcely yet satisfied to be under close control.
She curveted and danced among the carts and cabs in a somewhat risky
fashion, but she had her master in Rimânez, who if he had looked
handsome by night looked still more so by day, with a slight colour
warming the natural pallor of his complexion and his eyes sparkling with
all the zest of exercise and enjoyment. I waited for his approach, as
did also Amiel, who as usual timed his appearance in the hotel corridor
in exact accordance with the moment of his master's arrival. Rimânez
smiled as he caught sight of me, touching his hat with the handle of his
whip by way of salutation.
"You slept late, Tempest"--he said, as he dismounted and threw the reins
to a groom who had cantered up after him,--"To-morrow you must come with
me and join what they call in fashionable slang parlance the Liver
Brigade. Once upon a time it was considered the height of indelicacy and
low breeding to mention the 'liver' or any other portion of one's
internal machinery,--but we have done with all that now, and we find a
peculiar satisfaction in discoursing of disease and unsavoury medical
matters generally. And in the Liver Brigade you see at a glance all
those interesting fellows who have sold themselves to the devil for the
sake of the flesh-pots of Egypt,--men who eat till they are well-nigh
bursting, and then prance up and down on good horses,--much too
respectable beasts by the way to bear such bestial burdens--in the hope
of getting out of their poisoned blood the evil they have themselves put
in. They think me one of them, but I am not."
He patted his mare and the groom led her away, the foam of her hard ride
still flecking her glossy chest and forelegs.
"Why do you join the procession then?" I asked him, laughing and
glancing at him with undisguised approval as I spoke, for he seemed more
admirably built than ever in his well-fitting riding gear--"You are a
fraud!"
"I am!" he responded lightly--"And do you know I am not the only one in
London! Where are you off to?"
"To those lawyers who wrote to me last night;--Bentham and Ellis is the
name of the firm. The sooner I interview them the better,--don't you
think so?"
"Yes--but see here,"--and he drew me aside--"You must have some ready
cash. It doesn't look well to apply at once for advances,--and there is
really no necessity to explain to these legal men that you were on the
verge of starvation when their letter arrived. Take this
pocket-book,--remember you promised to let me be your banker,--and on
your way you might go to some well-reputed tailor and get properly
rigged out. Ta-ta!"
He moved off at a rapid pace,--I hurried after him, touched to the quick
by his kindness.
"But wait--I say--Lucio!" And I called him thus by his familiar name for
the first time. He stopped at once and stood quite still.
"Well?" he said, regarding me with an attentive smile.
"You don't give me time to speak"--I answered in a low voice, for we
were standing in one of the public corridors of the hotel--"The fact is
I have some money, or rather I can get it directly,--Carrington sent me
a draft for fifty pounds in his letter--I forgot to tell you about it.
It was very good of him to lend it to me,--you had better have it as
security for this pocket-book,--by-the-bye how much is there inside it?"
"Five hundred, in bank notes of tens and twenties,"--he responded with
business-like brevity.
"Five hundred! My dear fellow, I don't want all that. It's too much!"
"Better have too much than too little nowadays,"--he retorted with a
laugh--"My dear Tempest, don't make such a business of it. Five hundred
pounds is really nothing. You can spend it all on a dressing-case for
example. Better send back John Carrington's draft,--I don't think much
of his generosity considering that he came into a mine worth a hundred
thousand pounds sterling, a few days before I left Australia."
I heard this with great surprise, and, I must admit with a slight
feeling of resentment too. The frank and generous character of my old
chum 'Boffles' seemed to darken suddenly in my eyes,--why could he not
have told me of his good fortune in his letter? Was he afraid I might
trouble him for further loans? I suppose my looks expressed my
thoughts, for Rimânez, who had observed me intently, presently added--
"Did he not tell you of his luck? That was not very friendly of him--but
as I remarked last night, money often spoils a man."
"Oh I daresay he meant no slight by the omission," I said hurriedly,
forcing a smile--"No doubt he will make it the subject of his next
letter. Now as to this five hundred"--
"Keep it, man, keep it"--he interposed impatiently--"What do you talk
about security for? Haven't I got _you_ as security?"
I laughed. "Well, I am fairly reliable now"--I said--"And I'm not going
to run away."
"From _me_?" he queried, with a half cold half kind glance; "No,--I
fancy not!"
He waved his hand lightly and left me, and I, putting the leather case
of notes in my inner breast-pocket, hailed a hansom and was driven off
rapidly to Basinghall Street where my solicitors awaited me.
Arrived at my destination, I sent up my name, and was received at once
with the utmost respect by two small chips of men in rusty black who
represented 'the firm.' At my request they sent down their clerk to pay
and dismiss my cab, while I, opening Lucio's pocket book, asked them to
change me a ten-pound note into gold and silver which they did with
ready good-will. Then we went into business together. My deceased
relative, whom I had never seen as far as I myself remembered, but who
had seen me as a motherless baby in my nurse's arms, had left me
everything he possessed unconditionally, including several rare
collections of pictures, jewels and curios. His will was so concisely
and clearly worded that there were no possibilities of any legal
hair-splitting over it,--and I was informed that in a week or ten days
at the utmost everything would be in order and at my sole disposition.
"You are a very fortunate man Mr Tempest;"--said the senior partner Mr
Bentham, as he folded up the last of the papers we had been looking
through and put it by--"At your age this princely inheritance may be
either a great boon to you or a great curse,--one never knows. The
possession of such enormous wealth involves great responsibilities."
I was amused at what I considered the impertinence of this mere servant
of the law in presuming to moralize on my luck.
"Many people would be glad to accept such responsibilities and change
places with me"--I said with a flippant air--"You yourself, for
example?"
I knew this remark was not in good taste, but I made it wilfully,
feeling that he had no business to preach to me as it were on the
responsibilities of wealth. He took no offence however,--he merely gave
me an observant side-glance like that of some meditative crow.
"No Mr Tempest, no"--he said drily--"I do not think I should at all be
disposed to change places with you. I feel very well satisfied as I am.
My brain is my bank, and brings me in quite sufficient interest to live
upon, which is all that I desire. To be comfortable, and pay one's way
honestly is enough for me. I have never envied the wealthy."
"Mr Bentham is a philosopher,"--interposed his partner, Mr Ellis
smiling--"In our profession Mr Tempest, we see so many ups and downs of
life, that in watching the variable fortunes of our clients, we
ourselves learn the lesson of content."
"Ah, it is a lesson that I have never mastered till now!" I responded
merrily--"But at the present moment I confess myself satisfied."
They each gave me a formal little bow, and Mr Bentham shook hands.
"Business being concluded, allow me to congratulate you," he said
politely--"Of course, if you should wish at any time to entrust your
legal affairs to other hands, my partner and myself are perfectly
willing to withdraw. Your deceased relative had the highest confidence
in us...."
"As I have also, I assure you,"--I interrupted quickly--"Pray do me the
favour to continue managing things for me as you did for my relative,
and be assured of my gratitude in advance."
Both little men bowed again, and this time Mr Ellis shook hands.
"We shall do our best for you, Mr Tempest, shall we not Bentham?"
Bentham nodded gravely. "And now what do you say--shall we mention it
Bentham?--or shall we not mention it?"
"Perhaps," responded Bentham sententiously--"it would be as well to
mention it."
I glanced from one to the other, not understanding what they meant. Mr
Ellis rubbed his hands and smiled deprecatingly.
"The fact is Mr Tempest, your deceased relative had one very curious
idea--he was a shrewd man and a clever one, but he certainly had one
very curious idea--and perhaps if he had followed it up to any extent,
it might--yes, it might have landed him in a lunatic asylum and
prevented his disposing of his extensive fortune in the--er--the very
just and reasonable manner he has done. Happily for himself and--er--for
you, he did not follow it up, and to the last he retained his admirable
business qualities and high sense of rectitude. But I do not think he
ever quite dispossessed himself of the idea itself, did he Bentham?"
Bentham gazed meditatively at the round black mark of the gas-burner
where it darkened the ceiling.
"I think not,--no, I think not," he answered--"I believe he was
perfectly convinced of it."
"And what was it?" I asked, getting impatient--"Did he want to bring out
some patent?--a new notion for a flying-machine, and get rid of his
money in that way?"
"No, no, no!" and Mr Ellis laughed a soft pleasant little laugh over my
suggestion--"No, my dear sir--nothing of a purely mechanical or
commercial turn captivated his imagination. He was too,--er--yes, I
think I may say too profoundly opposed to what is called 'progress' in
the world to aid it by any new invention or other means whatever. You
see it is a little awkward for me to explain to you what really seems to
be the most absurd and fantastic notion,--but--to begin with, we never
really knew how he made his money, did we Bentham?"
Bentham shook his head and pursed his lips closely together.
"We had to take charge of large sums, and advise as to investments and
other matters,--but it was not our business to inquire where the cash
came from in the first place, was it, Bentham?"
Again Bentham shook his head solemnly.
"We were entrusted with it;"--went on his partner, pressing the tips of
his fingers together caressingly as he spoke--"and we did our best to
fulfil that trust--with--er--with discretion and fidelity. And it was
only after we had been for many years connected in business that our
client mentioned--er--his idea;--a most erratic and extraordinary one,
which was briefly this,--that he had sold himself to the devil, and that
his large fortune was one result of the bargain!"