The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope [good story books to read .txt] 📗

is, he had better not drink, supposing the world to be free to him for his own work and his own enjoyment. But if the world were no longer free to him, if he were really coming to penal servitude and annihilation⁠—then why should he not drink while the time lasted? An hour of triumphant joy might be an eternity to a man, if the man’s imagination were strong enough to make him so regard his hour. He therefore took his brandy-and-water freely, and as he took it he was able to throw his fears behind him, and to assure himself that, after all, he might even yet escape from his bondages. No;⁠—he would drink no more. This he said to himself as he filled another beaker. He would work instead. He would put his shoulder to the wheel, and would yet conquer his enemies. It would not be so easy to convict a member for Westminster⁠—especially if money were spent freely. Was he not the man who, at his own cost, had entertained the Emperor of China? Would not that be remembered in his favour? Would not men be unwilling to punish the man who had received at his own table all the Princes of the land, and the Prime Minister, and all the Ministers? To convict him would be a national disgrace. He fully realised all this as he lifted the glass to his mouth, and puffed out the smoke in large volumes through his lips. But money must be spent! Yes;⁠—money must be had! Cohenlupe certainly had money. Though he squeezed it out of the coward’s veins he would have it. At any rate, he would not despair. There was a fight to be fought yet, and he would fight it to the end. Then he took a deep drink, and slowly, with careful and almost solemn steps, he made his way up to his bed. LXV Miss Longestaffe Writes Home

Lady Monogram, when she left Madame Melmotte’s house after that entertainment of Imperial Majesty which had been to her of so very little avail, was not in a good humour. Sir Damask, who had himself affected to laugh at the whole thing, but who had been in truth as anxious as his wife to see the Emperor in private society, put her ladyship and Miss Longestaffe into the carriage without a word, and rushed off to his club in disgust. The affair from beginning to end, including the final failure, had been his wife’s doing. He had been made to work like a slave, and had been taken against his will to Melmotte’s house, and had seen no Emperor and shaken hands with no Prince! “They may fight it out between them now like the Kilkenny cats.” That was his idea as he closed the carriage-door on the two ladies⁠—thinking that if a larger remnant were left of one cat than of the other that larger remnant would belong to his wife.

“What a horrid affair!” said Lady Monogram. “Did anybody ever see anything so vulgar?” This was at any rate unreasonable, for whatever vulgarity there may have been, Lady Monogram had seen none of it.

“I don’t know why you were so late,” said Georgiana.

“Late! Why it’s not yet twelve. I don’t suppose it was eleven when we got into the Square. Anywhere else it would have been early.”

“You knew they did not mean to stay long. It was particularly said so. I really think it was your own fault.”

“My own fault. Yes;⁠—I don’t doubt that. I know it was my own fault, my dear, to have had anything to do with it. And now I have got to pay for it.”

“What do you mean by paying for it, Julia?”

“You know what I mean very well. Is your friend going to do us the honour of coming to us tomorrow night?” She could not have declared in plainer language how very high she thought the price to be which she had consented to give for those ineffective tickets.

“If you mean Mr. Brehgert, he is coming. You desired me to ask him, and I did so.”

“Desired you! The truth is, Georgiana, when people get into different sets, they’d better stay where they are. It’s no good trying to mix things.” Lady Monogram was so angry that she could not control her tongue.

Miss Longestaffe was ready to tear herself with indignation. That she should have been brought to hear insolence such as this from Julia Triplex⁠—she, the daughter of Adolphus Longestaffe of Caversham and Lady Pomona; she, who was considered to have lived in quite the first London circle! But she could hardly get hold of fit words for a reply. She was almost in tears, and was yet anxious to fight rather than weep. But she was in her friend’s carriage, and was being taken to her friend’s house, was to be entertained by her friend all the next day, and was to see her lover among her friend’s guests. “I wonder what has made you so ill-natured,” she said at last. “You didn’t use to be like that.”

“It’s no good abusing me,” said Lady Monogram. “Here we are, and I suppose we had better get out⁠—unless you want the carriage to take you anywhere else.” Then Lady Monogram got out and marched into the house, and taking a candle went direct to her own room. Miss Longestaffe followed slowly to her own chamber, and having half undressed herself, dismissed her maid and prepared to write to her mother.

The letter to her mother must be written. Mr. Brehgert had twice proposed that he should, in the usual way, go to Mr. Longestaffe, who had been backwards and forwards in London, and was there at the present moment. Of course it was proper that Mr. Brehgert should see her father⁠—but, as she had told him, she preferred that he should postpone his visit for a day or two. She was now agonized by many doubts. Those few words about