"I was horrified at the prison which awaited me," Pigglewitch declared. "Oh, I am lost,--lost beyond all hope!"
For a while his companion made no reply, but sat looking dreamily across the lake, while he mechanically plucked to pieces a tiny wild-flower. His face, rather handsome than otherwise, suddenly lost its habitual expression of weary indifference, a smile played about the lips, the dreamy eyes sparkled.
"Friend Pigglewitch," he said, scrutinizing keenly the odd figure before him, "an idea has suddenly occurred to me,--an original, some sensible people might call it an insane, idea! You, friend Pigglewitch, play an important part in the development of this idea. You please me, you interest me, and that is saying a great deal, for I assure you that it is years since I have taken any interest in anything, or any pleasure in a living creature with the exception of my Bello, an abominable mongrel pug, whose intense ugliness pleased me. But, as I said, you too please me. It would be no end of a pity if so magnificent a sample of humanity should be early snatched from this world by despicable suicide. I now rejoice that I pulled you out of the water. You must live!"
"Why do you jeer at me?" Pigglewitch asked, in a doleful tone of reproach. "I have done you no harm, and have told you all my story."
"In return for which you shall have mine, with but some trifling reservations. It is but reasonable that you, in return for this recital of your life and its woes, should listen to mine. It will be much shorter than yours, for I really have had no experiences. My name is--but why need you know my name? you cannot care for it, and I am quite sure you will find it easier not to mention it if you do not know it. Since from my earliest infancy Fortune has showered upon me her choicest gifts, I will call myself Fritz Fortune. Yes, Fritz Fortune had from his birth everything that mankind considers a means of happiness. His health was perfect, they say he was a very handsome boy, he had quick powers of mind, a lively intelligence which enabled him to learn without trouble; he was the only son of an immensely wealthy father, his every desire was fulfilled before it was expressed. He had everything, everything, except one mere trifle of no real consequence in life,--affection. The stupid fellow, however, thought he wanted it. He loved his kind, and longed for love in return, but he did not find it. His mother had no time to bestow upon him. She was wonderfully lovely, and always surrounded by a crowd of adorers. There was not a moment of her day not given to society or to dressing for some grand entertainment, how could she possibly find a moment to devote to the boy, who was, besides, admirably cared for by a most expensive tutor and an excellent housekeeper? When Fritz Fortune was ten years old his mother died suddenly of disease of the heart. He did not miss her, for he scarcely knew her. His father was a model parent, he was willing to make any sacrifice for the child, upon whom he lavished enormous sums of money, save one,--the sacrifice of his time, which was devoted partly to business, but mostly to pleasure. Weeks passed continually without the boy's even seeing his father, but then no toy was too expensive to be purchased for him so soon as he expressed a wish for it to the housekeeper, there was no delicacy upon which he might not feed until it disgusted him. Everything, everything save affection was lavished upon him. Was he not the silliest of lads in that so far from being contented he sometimes shed bitter tears over his lot? He had soon done with tears, however. His tutor did just as the boy told him to, and the housekeeper and all the servants followed his example. Fritz Fortune's will was never gainsaid, if he had not chosen of his own accord to go to school, he never would have been sent there, but he was tired of his home, and hoped to be better entertained at school, consequently to school he went. There too luck pursued him. As he was clever enough and studied diligently, not from love of books but to beguile the time, he learned readily. He outstripped his school-fellows, and they consequently hated him, but as his pockets were always filled with money and school-boy dainties which he scattered with a lavish hand, the young rogues took care to conceal their dislike of him. They flattered the son of the wealthy banker, and for a short time the boy was really happy, for he thought himself beloved by his school-mates, for whom he had a sincere affection. Chance opened his eyes. He accidentally overheard a conversation between two boys whom he thought his best friends. Every word then spoken revealed their hatred, their mean envy of their comrade. It was enough. Fritz Fortune no longer lavished either gifts or affection upon his school-fellows, and they no longer concealed the true nature of their feelings towards him. They pursued him with falsehoods and calumny. There was a fresh battle to be fought at every recess, he was agile and strong, and declined none of them. Since he returned every blow with interest, and in addition had the teachers on his side, so that after a fight his opponents were the ones selected for punishment, he came out of all these contests victorious. He continued to be Fortune's favourite, but he was not happy, he was solitary and alone among his fellows.
"When only sixteen years old he passed a brilliant examination and entered the university, where he studied,--that is to say, he fluttered about from one science to another. There was no need of his pursuing any laborious course of study: he was wealthy in his own right by inheritance from his mother, and was, besides, the only son of an immensely wealthy father, who gave him everything save affection. His career at the university was as successful as at school. Whatever he attempted was a success. He was a capital boxer, an untiring swimmer, a bold rider,--he was an object of admiration and envy.
"He had learned somewhat at school, his bitter experiences there had not been lost upon him. Again he scattered his money with a lavish hand, he was surrounded by flatterers and friends, but he now knew what they were worth. He despised the rabble of young men as he had despised their childish prototypes, but he was too wise to let this be seen. Solitude was too tedious. He wanted to enjoy life. To do this he needed jolly companions, his money bought him these. He drank deep of all these delights of student life, he was always surrounded by a merry throng of so-called good friends, but he was often wretchedly forlorn and unhappy.
"The wild, gay life that he led filled him with disgust, he forced himself to seem carelessly merry when he was constantly a prey to mortal ennui. Of course Fritz Fortune was a favourite with women. He had not in appearance fulfilled, it is true, the promise of his boyhood, but he was by no means an ugly fellow, and, what was far more to the point, he was rich, very rich. He was everywhere received with distinction,--the mothers flattered his vanity, the daughters met his advances far more than half-way. Once or twice, when a pair of blue eyes looked innocently into his own, when a rosy cheek blushed rosier still at his words, he thought the glance and the blush due to his real self, his heart beat high, hope dawned within him, but he was sure to be cruelly undeceived. Some skilled coquette behind a mask of maidenly innocence had been speculating upon his wealth, but Fortune still befriended him in that he discovered in time the net in which he was to have been caught. He escaped, it is true, but every vestige of his faith in mankind was left behind him in the toils that had been spread for him.
"When he left the university he had not decided upon a career. Should he take part in his father's business? He had no inclination to do so. Why should he devote himself to the accumulation of wealth? The business was in trustworthy, competent hands; his father, it is true, was at the head of it, but he paid little attention to its details; more as a pastime than as a necessity he spent a couple of hours in his counting-room every day, all the rest of his time was devoted to pleasure. He had no desire that his son should apply himself to business. He was so tender a father that he gladly fulfilled his son's every wish, only asking in return that his son should not interfere with him or with his little amusements. Could a son ask more of a parent? Certainly Fritz Fortune's was a most enviable lot. He was surrounded by young men of rank who called themselves his devoted friends, and he was an idol among women. Wherever he went he was treated with distinction, he drained every delight of the German capital to the dregs, there was no necessity for his denying himself a single pleasure. Whatever money could procure might be his, for his father's cashier stood ready to honour his drafts to any amount. What could he desire more? And yet the foolish fellow was absolutely wretched; he had but one wish, and to fulfil it money was of no avail,--he wished to be relieved from the mortal tedium of an insufferable existence. The amusements of the capital disgusted him, society bored him, he had no interest in any pursuit, he could not decide to pursue any particular branch of study; even music, which had formerly helped him to pass many a lonely hour, no longer attracted him. In glowing physical health, his weary mind was 'sickening of a vague disease,' his only wish being to close his eyes never to open them again.
"It was some time before it occurred to him that it was within his power to gratify this wish by a firm resolve. He had become too indolent even to think, but yesterday this brilliant idea occurred to him. It was suggested by his reading in the morning's paper that a young banker of his acquaintance had shot himself. What in this case had been done in despair might also be done to put an end to the tedium of existence. His spirits improved on the instant, the mere thought that he could rid himself of his burden dissipated his weariness for a while.