"I do not imagine that they would admit me into their family circle," he replied. "I make no claims to it, but I have the right."
Dick was duly impressed.
"Then, of course, you are a Russian. You were born there?"
"A Russian!" sneered the other. "A vast conglomeration of savagery, superstition, and ignorance! I do not claim to be a Russian. I have estates there, but I am a citizen of the world. My sympathies are not national, insular, bounded by race, paltry landmarks, languages. I live in a bigger world, my friend. Yes, I am a Romanoff, if you like, and I claim kinship with the greatest families of the Russian Empire—but la la, what is it? Thistledown, my friend, thistledown."
"But you were educated in Russia?" persisted Dick.
"Educated! What is it to be educated? From childhood I have been a wanderer. I have taken my degrees in the University of the world. I have travelled in China, Japan, Egypt, America, the Antipodes. In a few days we shall call at Bombay. If you will accompany me I will take you to people in that city, old Indian families whose language I know, whose so-called mysteries I have penetrated, and who call me friend. Ecco! I owe my education to all countries, all peoples."
He did not speak boastfully; there was no suggestion of the boaster, the braggadocio, in his tones; rather he spoke quietly, thoughtfully, almost sadly.
"Tell me this," asked Dick: "you, who I judge to be a rich man, do you find that riches bring happiness?"
"Yes—and no. With wealth you can buy all that this world can give you."
Dick wondered at the strange intonation of his voice.