“Rien ne pèse tant qu’un secret
Le porter loin est difficile aux dames:
Et je sçais mesme sur ce fait
Bon nombre d’hommes qui sont femmes.”
—LA FONTAINE.
Meanwhile Deronda had been fastened and led off by Mr. Vandernoodt, who wished for a brisker walk, a cigar, and a little gossip. Since we cannot tell a man his own secrets, the restraint of being in his company often breeds a desire to pair off in conversation with some more ignorant person, and Mr. Vandernoodt presently said,
“What a washed-out piece of cambric Grandcourt is! But if he is a favorite of yours, I withdraw the remark.”
“Not the least in the world,” said Deronda.
“I thought not. One wonders how he came to have a great passion again; and he must have had—to marry in this way. Though Lush, his old chum, hints that he married this girl out of obstinacy. By George! it was a very accountable obstinacy. A man might make up his mind to marry her without the stimulus of contradiction. But he must have made himself a pretty large drain of money, eh?”
“I know nothing of his affairs.”
“What! not of the other establishment he keeps up?”
“Diplow? Of course. He took that of Sir Hugo. But merely for the year.”
“No, no; not Diplow: Gadsmere. Sir Hugo knows, I’ll answer for it.”
Deronda said nothing. He really began to feel some curiosity, but he foresaw that he should hear what Mr. Vandernoodt had to tell, without the condescension of asking.