[p 294]
“You would wish to be thanked?” he said.
“Naturally! Most people like a little gratitude in return for benefits.”
“They do. And the Creator, who is always giving, is supposed to like gratitude also,”—he observed—“Nevertheless He seldom gets it!”
“I do not talk of hyperphysical nothingness,”—I said with impatience—“I am speaking of the plain facts of this world and the people who live in it. If one gives largely, one expects to be acknowledged as generous,—but if I were to divide my fortune, and hand half of it to the poor, the matter would be chronicled in about six lines in one of the papers, and society would exclaim ‘What a fool!’”
“Then let us talk no more about it,”—said Lucio, his brows clearing, and his eyes gathering again their wonted light of mockery and mirth—“Having won the Derby, you have really done all a nineteenth-century civilization expects you to do, and for your reward, you will be in universal demand everywhere. You may hope soon to dine at Marlborough House,—and a little back-stair influence and political jobbery will work you into the Cabinet if you care for it. Did I not tell you I would set you up as successfully as the bear who has reached the bun on the top of the slippery pole, a spectacle for the envy of men and the wonder of angels? Well, there you are!—triumphant!—a great creature Geoffrey!—in fact, you are the greatest product of the age, a man with five millions and owner of the Derby-winner! What is the glory of intellect compared to such a position as yours! Men envy you,—and as for angels,—if there are any,—you may be sure they do wonder! A man’s fame guaranteed by a horse, is something indeed to make an angel stare!”
He laughed uproariously, and from that day he never spoke again of his singular proposition that I should ‘part with him,’ and let the “nobler” nature in me have its way. I was not to know then that he had staked a chance upon my soul and lost it,—and that from henceforward he took a [p 295] determined course with me, implacably on to the appalling end.
My marriage took place on the appointed day in June with all the pomp and extravagant show befitting my position, and that of the woman I had chosen to wed. It is needless to describe the gorgeousness of the ceremony in detail,—any fashionable ‘ladies paper’ describing the wedding of an Earl’s daughter to a five-fold millionaire, will give an idea, in hysterical rhapsody, of the general effect. It was an amazing scene,—and one in which costly millinery completely vanquished all considerations of solemnity or sacredness in the supposed ‘divine’ ordinance. The impressive command: “I require and charge ye both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment,”—did not obtain half so much awed attention as the exquisite knots of pearls and diamonds which fastened the bride’s silver-embroidered train to her shoulders. ‘All the world and his wife’ were present,—that is, the social world, which imagines no other world exists, though it is the least part of the community. The Prince of Wales honoured us by his presence: two great dignitaries of the church performed the marriage-rite, resplendent in redundant fulness of white sleeve and surplice, and equally imposing in the fatness of their bodies and unctuous redness of their faces; and Lucio was my ‘best man.’ He was in high, almost wild spirits,—and, during our drive to the church together, had entertained me all the way with numerous droll stories, mostly at the expense of the clergy. When we reached the sacred edifice, he said laughingly as he alighted—
“Did you ever hear it reported, Geoffrey, that the devil is unable to enter a church, because of the cross upon it, or within it?”
“I have heard some such nonsense,”—I replied, smiling at the humour expressed in his sparkling eyes and eloquent features.
“It is nonsense,—for the makers of the legend forgot one thing;” he continued, dropping his voice to a whisper as [p 296] we passed under the carved gothic portico—“The cross may be present,——but——so is the clergyman! And wherever a clergyman is, the devil may surely follow!”