He led me far away from the brilliant palace, blazing lights, and gay music, away from the maddening sound of laughter, far, far to the outskirts of the city; and Sheldon talked, talked, talked; evenly, monotonously, and vaguely I understood that in a marvelous cool and dispassionate manner he was telling me the romance of his life—all men have one and live. My own grief was too vividly fresh for me to follow him entirely, but Sheldon’s sorrow was caused by the knowledge that the woman he adored had never been happy. His romance was ordinary and occurred when he was very young or it wouldn’t have happened.
They had been separated by lack of funds and a scheming mother, and both learned all about it when it was too late. She had made a very good wife for the wrong man, and had been in her grave these twenty years. And with a deep sigh poor old Sheldon handed me an old-fashioned locket, and I gazed upon a girl with a round, fresh face, saucer eyes and ringlets. He loved as I, not the woman but the ideal, and had been true because he never possessed. He would mourn forever for this moon-faced chit, who if she were to confront the matured Sheldon of to-day would not rouse even interest.
We tramped the live-long night, returning to the palace when the sky flushed red with the rising sun.
Hilarity had deserted the palace, the stillness of wan fatigue reigned, and surrounding all was that stale, dissipated atmosphere, the aftermath of an orgie. The lights were still burning in the spacious salon, and the crystal floor was strewn with wilted flowers smothering and dying in their own sickening-sweet, poisonous odor.
The banquet tables flickered in gorgeous disarray, their rich scarfs stained with the wine that had flowed freely, the pungent odor mingled with that of stale fruit and dying flowers. I turned from it all with loathing, and Sheldon hurried me up to our apartments.
Saxe. and Saunders groaned with indigestion in their deep sleep of wine; our entrance did not disturb them. As though I were a child Sheldon prepared me for rest, then hovered at my side and talked, talked, and talked. My limbs stiffened with weariness, my brain ached and wandered, then finally——
CHAPTER XXI.
Disappointment is destiny: the grim inevitable to climax every ambition and season the soul with reason. Disappointment spares this world of imbeciles. And I, for all my wealth, became a man afflicted with a grand disappointment, just a swirling atom in this planet of passion. The room was flooded with yellow sunlight; after all it was a good, cosy old world, and why was I complaining when, for the first time in my life, I realized just what I expected only spoiled the good effect by trying to tease myself into false security.
My three friends watched me slyly, though engaged in their usual discussion. Sheldon and Saunders had returned to their old disputes. Saxe. was trying to make peace, and once more did I feel the usual inclination to sic the two old boys on. I joined them and was soon drawn into the mêlée. Saxe. expostulated, and I discovered I could still laugh.
Mike’s entrance ended the row. He informed me Alpha Centauri wished to see me at once. It occurred to me I was no longer at the beck and call of this woman who had killed the beautiful, the poetical in me, and I replied: “I would follow shortly.” Mike stared and possibly fancied some disrespect to the superb Centaurian, and he could fancy what he damned please.