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 blocks, as hard as rock, and remarkable for their crystal transparency. Shandon took care to replenish his supply of water by shipping several tons of these every day.

The Doctor could never get accustomed to the optical illusions caused by refraction. For instance, an iceberg twelve miles off looked like a little white mass quite close; and his eye needed long training to enable him to judge objects correctly in a region where a phenomenon like this was of frequent occurrence.

At length, what with towing the brig along in fields, and driving back threatening blocks with long poles, the crew were completely worn out, and yet on Friday, the 27th of April, the Forward was still outside the Polar circle.

watching the chance, however, and taking advantage of every favorable lead, the Forward managed to gain a little ground, but instead of avoiding the enemy, it was evident that direct attack would soon be necessary, for ice-fields, many miles in extent, were approaching, and as these masses when in motion represent a pressure of more than ten millions of tons, great care was requisite to avoid nippings, that is, getting crushed in among them on both sides of the ship. The saws were ordered to be brought up and placed in readiness for immediate use.

It was hard work now for the crew, and some began to grumble loudly, though they did not refuse to obey, while others took things as they came with philosophic indifference.

"I couldn't tell for my life what brings it into my head just this moment," said Bolton, gayly, "but I can't help thinking of a jolly little grog-shop in Water Street, where a fellow can make himself very comfortable with a glass of gin and a bottle of porter. You can see it too, quite plain, can't you, Gripper?"

"Speak for yourself," said Gripper, in the surly tone he generally adopted. "I can see nothing of the sort."

"It's only a way of speaking, Gripper; of course I didn't suppose that those ice-cities which Mr. Clawbonny


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 so admires have even one solitary little public-house in them, where a brave Jack Tar can get a tumbler or two of brandy."

"You may be quite sure of that, Bolton; and for that matter you might add, there is nothing even to be had on board to keep a poor fellow's heart up. A queer idea, certainly, to forbid spirits to Arctic sailors!"

"I can't see that," said Garry, "for you remember what the Doctor said, that it was absolutely necessary to avoid all stimulants if a man wished to go far north, and keep well and free from the scurvy."

"But I have no wish to go far north, Garry. I think it is all lost labor, even coming this length. I can't see the good of being so bent and determined on pushing through where the Fates are dead against us."

"Ah, well, we shan't push through, anyway," said Pen. "When I think I have even forgotten the taste of gin!"

"You must comfort yourself, my boy," said Bolton, "with what the Doctor said."

"Oh, it's all very fine to talk," said Pen, in his coarse, brutal voice, "but it remains to be seen whether all this stuff about health isn't a mere sham to save the rum."

"Pen may be right, perhaps, after all," said Gripper.

"Pen right!" exclaimed Bolton. "His nose is too red for that, and if this new regimen is beginning to bring it back to its natural color a bit, he may thank his stars instead of complaining."

"What harm has my nose done to you, I should like to know?" said Pen, angrily, for this was an attack on his weak point. "My nose can take care of itself; it doesn't want your advice. Mind your own business."

"Come, Pen, don't get rusty. I didn't think your nose was so sensitive. Why, man, I like a good glass of whisky as well as other people, especially in such a climate as this, but if it does one really more harm than good, I am quite willing to go without it."

"You do without it?" said Warren, the stoker, "but I am not so sure that everyone else on board does without it."

"What do you mean, Warren?" said Garry, looking fixedly at him.

"I mean this, that for some reason or other there are

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RV 105 (BUDDENBROOKS) world, and you must trust other people who mean well by you.”

“I don’t understand—I don’t understand,” Tony sobbed helplessly, and put down her head as a kitten does beneath the hand that strokes it. “He comes here and says something pleasant to everybody, and then goes away again; and then he writes to you that he—that I—I don’t understand. What made him? What have I done to him?”

The Consul smiled again. “You said that once before, Tony; and it illustrates so well your childish way of reasoning. My little daughter must not feel that people mean to urge or torment her. We can consider it all very quietly; in fact, we must consider it all very quietly and calmly, for it is a very serious matter. Meanwhile I will write an answer to Herr Grünlich’s letter, without either consenting or refusing. There is much to be thought of.—Well, is that agreed? What do you say?—And now Papa can go back to his work, can’t he?—Adieu, Betsy.”

“Au revoir, dear Jean.”

“Do take a little more honey, Tony,” said the Frau Consul to her daughter, who sat in her place motionless, with her head bent. “One must eat.”

Tony’s tears gradually dried. Her head felt hot and heavy with her thoughts. Good gracious, what a business! She had always known, of course, that she should one day marry, and be the wife of a business man, and embark upon a solid and advantageous married life, commensurate with the position of the family and the firm. But suddenly, for the first time in her life, somebody, some actual person, in serious earnest, wanted to marry her. How did people act? To her, her, Tony Buddenbrook, were now applicable all those tremendous words and phrases which she had hitherto met with only in books: her “hand,” her “consent,” “as long as life shall last!” Goodness gracious, what a step to take, all at once!

“And you, Mamma? Do you too advise me to—to—to yield

RV 105 (105)


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 in the rich, in the poor the hatred of labor and the love of present ease and enjoyment, are the passions which prompt to invade property, passions much more steady in their operation, and much more universal in their influence. Wherever there is great property, there is great inequality. For one very rich man, there must be at least five hundred poor, and the affluence of the few supposes the indigence of the many. The affluence of the rich excites the indignation of the poor, who are often both driven by want, and prompted by envy, to invade his possessions. It is only under the shelter of the civil magistrate that the owner of that valuable property, which is acquired by the labor of many years, or perhaps of many successive generations, can sleep a single night in security. He is at all times surrounded by unknown enemies, whom, though he never provoked, he can never appease, and from whose injustice he can be protected only by the powerful arm of the civil magistrate continually held up to chastise it. The acquisition of valuable and extensive property, therefore, necessarily requires the establishment of civil government. Where there is no property, or at least none that exceeds the value of two or three days' labor, civil government is not so necessary.

Civil government supposes a certain subordination. But as the necessity of civil government gradually grows up with the acquisition of valuable property, so the principal causes which naturally introduce subordination gradually grow up with the growth of that valuable property.


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 spirits on board, and I don't believe some folks in the cabin don't make themselves jolly."

"Pray, how did you know that?" asked Garry.

Warren could not answer; he was only talking for talking sake, as the saying is.

"Never mind him, Garry," said Bolton. "You see he knows nothing about it."

"Well," said Pen, "we'll go and ask for a ration of gin from the chief officer. We've earned it well, I'm sure, and we'll see if he refuses."

"I advise you to do nothing of the sort," rejoined Garry, seriously.

"Why not?" asked Pen and Gripper.

"Because you'll only get 'No' for an answer. You knew the regulation when you signed the articles. You should have thought about it sooner."

"Besides," replied Bolton, who always sided with Garry, "Richard Shandon is not the master; he has to obey like all the rest of us."

"Obey whom, I should like to know?"

"The captain."

"Confound the captain," exclaimed Pen. "Can't you see through all this make-believe. There is no more any real captain than there is any tavern among those ice-blocks. It's only a polite fashion of refusing us what we have a right to demand."

"But there is a captain," replied Bolton, "and I would wager two months' wages that we shall see him before long."

"So much the better," said Pen. "I, for one, should like to say a few words to him."

"Who's talking about the captain?" said a fresh interlocutor.

It was Clifton who spoke—an anxious, superstitious man.

"Any more news about the captain?" he asked.

"None," was the unanimous reply.

"Well, some fine morning I quite expect to find him in his cabin, without anyone knowing how he got there, or where he came from."

"Be off with you," said Bolton. "You seem to think the captain is a sort of Brownie, like those that the Scotch Highlanders talk about."


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 "My dear Marchioness,"" continued Vivian, "see there—I've kept my promise—there's your bracelet. How's Julie to-day?"

"Oh! Julie, poor dear, I hope she's better."

"Oh! yes, poor Julie! I think she's better."

"I don't know that, Miss Graves," said her Ladyship somewhat tartly, not at all approving of a toadey thinking. "I'm afraid that scream last night must have disturbed her. Oh dear! Mr. Grey, I'm afraid she'll be ill again."

Miss Graves looked mournful, and lifted up her eyes, and hands, to Heaven, but did not dare to speak this time.

"I thought she looked a little heavy about the eyes this morning," said the Marchioness, apparently very agitated; "and I've heard from Eglamour this post; he 's not well too—I think every body's ill now—he 's caught a fever going to see the ruins of Pstum: I wonder why people go to see ruins!"

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RV 106 (BUDDENBROOKS) my consent?” She hesitated a little before the “yield my consent.” It sounded high-flown and awkward. But then, this was the first occasion in her life that was worthy of fine language. She began to blush for her earlier lack of self-control. It seemed to her now not less unreasonable than it had ten minutes ago that she should marry Herr Grünlich; but the dignity of her situation began to fill her with a sense of importance which was satisfying indeed.

“I advise you to accept, my child? Has Papa advised you to do so? He has only not advised you not to, that is all. It would be very irresponsible of either of us to do that. The connection offered you is a very good one, my dear Tony. You would go to Hamburg on an excellent footing and live there in great style.”

Tony sat motionless. She was having a sort of vision of silk portières, like those in grandfather’s salon. And, as Madame Grünlich, should she drink morning chocolate? She thought it would not be seemly to ask.

“As your Father says, you have time to consider,” the Frau Consul continued. “But we are obliged to tell you that such an offer does not come every day, that it would make your fortune, and that it is exactly the marriage which duty and vocation prescribe. This, my child, it is my business to tell you. You know yourself that the path which opens before you to-day is the prescribed one which your life ought to follow.”

“Yes,” Tony said thoughtfully. She was well aware of her responsibilities toward the family and the firm, and she was proud of them. She was saturated with her family history—she, Tony Buddenbrook, who, as the daughter of Consul Buddenbrook, went about the town like a little queen, before whom Matthiesen the porter took off his hat and made a low bow! The Rostock tailor had been very well off, to begin with; but since his time, the family fortunes had advanced by leaps and bounds. It was her vocation to enhance the brilliance of family and firm in her allotted way, by making a

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 "Laugh as much as you like, Bolton, but that won't change my opinion. Every day, when I pass his cabin, I take a look through the key-hole, and you see if I don't come and tell you some day what he looks like, and how he's made."

"Plague take him," said Pen; "I suppose his timbers are no different from other people; and if he's going to try and force us where we don't want to go, he'll soon show us what stuff he is made of."

"That's pretty good," said Bolton. "Here's Pen, who doesn't even know the man, wanting to pick a quarrel with him directly."

"Doesn't know him?" returned Clifton; "that remains to be proved."

"What do you mean?" asked Gripper.

"I know what I'm saying."

"But we don't," was the common exclamation.

"Why, hasn't Pen quarreled with him already?"

"With the captain?"

"Yes, with the dog-captain, for it comes to the same thing."

The sailors gazed dubiously at each other, hardly knowing what to say or think.

At last Pen muttered between his teeth, "Man or dog, as sure as I'm alive, I'll settle accounts with him one of these days."

"Clifton," asked Bolton, seriously, "do you actually profess to believe that the dog is the real captain? Johnson was only fooling you."

"I firmly believe it," said Clifton, with an air of perfect conviction, "and if you were to watch him as I have done, you would have seen his strange behavior for yourself."

"What strange behavior? Tell us about him."

"Haven't you seen the way he marches up and down the deck, and looks at the sails, as if he were on watch?"

"Yes, that's quite true; and one evening I positively caught him, with his fore-paws up, leaning against the wheel."

"Impossible!" said Bolton.

"And doesn't he leave the ship now every night, and go walking about among the ice, without caring either for the bears or the cold?"


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RV 107 (BUDDENBROOKS) rich and aristocratic marriage. To the same end, Tom worked in the office. Yes, the marriage was undoubtedly precisely the right one. But—but—She saw him before her, saw his gold-yellow whiskers, his rosy, smiling face, the wart on his nose, his mincing walk. She could feel his woolly suit, hear his soft voice. . ..

“I felt sure,” the Consul’s wife said, “that we were accessible to quiet reason. Have we perhaps already made up our mind?”

“Oh, goodness, no!” cried Tony, suddenly. She uttered the “Oh” with an outburst of irritation. “What nonsense! Why should I marry him? I have always made fun of him. I never did anything else. I can’t understand how he can possibly endure me. The man must have some sort of pride in his bones!” She began to drip honey upon a slice of bread.

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 "I wonder indeed," said Miss Graves; "I never could see any thing in a ruin."

"Oh dear Grey!" continued the Marchioness, "I really am afraid Julie's going to be very ill."

"Oh! let Miss Graves pull her tail, and give her a little mustard seed; she'll be better to-morrow."

"Well, Graves, mind you do what Mr. Grey tells you."

"Oh! y-e-s, my Lady!"

"Mrs. Felix Lorraine," said the Marchioness, as that lady entered the room, "you are late to-day; I always reckon upon you as a supporter of an early breakfast at Desir."

"Oh! I've been half round the park."

"Did you hear the scream, Mrs. Felix?"

"Do you know what it was, Marchioness?"

"No— do you?"

"Ay! ay! see the reward of early rising, and a walk before breakfast. It was one of

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year the Buddenbrooks took no holiday during Christian’s and Clara’s vacation. The Consul said he was too busy; but it was Tony’s unsettled affair as well, that kept them lingering in Mengstrasse. A very diplomatic letter, written by the Consul himself, had been dispatched to Herr Grünlich; but the progress of the wooing was hindered by Tony’s obstinacy. She expressed herself in the most childish way. “Heaven forbid, Mamma,” she would say. “I simply can’t endure him!” with tremendous emphasis on the second syllable. Or she would explain solemnly, “Father” (Tony never otherwise said anything but “Papa”), “I can never yield him my consent.”

And at this point the matter would assuredly have stuck, had it not been for events that occurred some ten days after the talk in the breakfast-room—in other words, about the middle of July.

It was afternoon—a hot blue afternoon. The Frau Consul was out, and Tony sat with a book alone at the window of the landscape room, when Anton brought her a card. Before she had time to read the name, a young man in a bell-skirted coat and pea-green pantaloons entered the room. It was, of course, Herr Grünlich, with an expression of imploring tenderness upon his face.

Tony started up indignantly and made a movement to flee into the next room. How could one possibly talk to a man who had proposed for one’s hand? Her heart was in her throat and she had gone very pale. While he had been at a safe distance she had hugely enjoyed the solemn conferences with her Father and Mother and the suddenly enhanced im-

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 mined at the base, and the moment comes when their center of gravity is displaced, and down they go. If this had happened, however, but two minutes later, it would have fallen on the ship and crushed her to atoms."

Polar circle was entered at last. The Forward passed Holsteinberg at twelve o'clock on the 30th of April. Picturesque mountain scenery appeared on the eastern horizon, and the sea was open and free from icebergs, or rather any icebergs that were visible could easily be avoided. The wind was in the S. E., and bore along the brig in full sail up Baffin's Bay.

The day would have passed unmarked by any unusual incident but for the following occurrence, which, strange as it may appear, actually took place. At six in the morning, when Richard Shandon's watch was over, and he came back to his cabin, he found a letter lying on his table directed thus:

Shandon could not believe his own eyes, and would not even take the letter in his hands till he had called the Doctor and James Wall and the boatswain to look at it.

"It is certainly very strange," said Johnson.

"I think it is charming!" exclaimed the Doctor.

"At any rate," replied Shandon, "we shall know the secret now, I suppose."

He tore open the envelope hastily and read as follows:

"The captain of the Forward is pleased with the coolness, skill, and courage displayed in recent trying circumstances by the crew and officers, and yourself. He begs you to convey his thanks to the men.

"You will please direct your course north to Melville Bay, and from thence attempt to make Smith's Sound.

"The Captain of the Forward, "K. Z."

"Monday, April 30th, off Cape Walsingham."


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 your new American birds, and it has half torn down your aviary."

"One of the New Americans! Oh, the naughty thing! and has it broke the new fancy wire-work?"

Here a little odd-looking, snuffy old man, with a brown scratch wig, who had been very busily employed the whole breakfast-time with a cold game pie, the bones of which Vivian observed him most scientifically pick and polish, laid down his knife and fork, and addressed the Marchioness with an air of great interest.

"Pray, will your Ladyship have the goodness to inform me what bird this is."

The Marchioness looked astounded at any one presuming to ask her a question; and then she drawled, "Vivian, you know every thing—tell this gentleman what a bird is."

Now this gentleman was Mr. Mackaw, the most celebrated ornithologist extant, and who had written a treatise on Brazilian parroquets,

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 pole pointed with iron, to push back the most threatening packs. Before long, the brig entered a narrow pass between two high blocks, so narrow, that the tops of the sails touched the rock, like walls on either side. This led into a winding valley, full of whirling, blinding snow, where masses of drift ice were dashing furiously against each other, and breaking up into fragments with loud crackings.

But it was soon but too evident that there was no outlet to this gorge; an enormous block was right in front of the ship, and drifting rapidly down on her. There appeared no way of escape, for going back was impossible.

Shandon and Johnson stood together on the forepart of the vessel, surveying her perilous position; Shandon giving orders with one hand to the steersman and with the other to James Wall, who transmitted them to the chief engineer.

"How is this going to end, Johnson?"

"As Heaven pleases," was the boatswain's reply.

The ice-block, an enormous berg a hundred feet high, was now within a cable's length of the Forward, threatening her with instant destruction.

It was a moment of intense agonizing suspense, and became so unbearable that the men flung down their poles in spite of Shandon's commands, and hurried to the stern.

Suddenly a tremendous noise was heard, and a perfect waterspout broke over the deck. An enormous wave upheaved the ship, and the men cried out in terror, all but Garry, who stood up quietly at the helm, and kept the vessel in the right course.

But when the men recovered themselves a little, and ventured to look the gigantic foe again in the face, it was gone! The whole berg had completely disappeared, the pass was free, and there was a long channel beyond, lighted up by the oblique rays of the sun, which offered an uninterrupted passage to the Forward.

"Well, Mr. Clawbonny," said Johnson; "how do you explain this phenomenon?"

"It is one that often occurs, and is very simple, my good friend," replied the Doctor. "When these floating icebergs become detached at the time of the thaw, they sail separately along and preserve their equilibrium perfectly, but as they gradually drift farther south, where the water is relatively warmer, they begin to melt and get under-


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 to work; it is time the saws were all up, for we must get beyond the ice."

"So be it, and on a Friday, too. We shan't get beyond quite so easily," said Clifton, shrugging his shoulders.

From what cause it was impossible to say, but all the efforts of the crew were in vain. That day the Forward made no way whatever, though she dashed against the ice-fields with all her steam up. She could not separate them, and was forced to come to anchor for the night.

Next day the wind was east, and the temperature still lower. The weather was fine, and, as far as the eye could reach ice-plains stretched away in the distance, glittering in the sun's rays with dazzling whiteness. At seven in the morning, the thermometer stood eight degrees below zero.

The Doctor felt much inclined to stay quietly in his cabin, and devote himself to the reperusal of his volumes of Arctic voyages; but his custom was always to do whatever was most disagreeable to himself at the time being, and as it was certainly anything but pleasant to go on deck in such bitter weather and lend a helping hand to the men, he adhered to his rule of conduct, and left his snug warm quarters below, and went upstairs to do his share of work in towing the vessel along. He wore green spectacles to protect his eyes; but from this time he began to make use of snow-spectacles, to avoid the ophthalmia so frequent in Arctic latitudes.

By evening the Forward had gained many miles, thanks to the activity of the men and the skill of Shandon. At midnight they cleared the sixty-sixth parallel, and on sounding, the depth was found to be twenty-three fathoms. Land was about thirty miles to the east.

Suddenly the mass of ice, which had hitherto been motionless, broke in pieces, and began to move. Icebergs seemed to surge from all points of the horizon, and the brig found herself wedged in among a crowd of moving bergs, which might crush her at any moment. The task of steering became so difficult that Garry, who was the best hand at the wheel, could never leave it. Ice-mountains were reforming behind the ship, and there was no alternative but to bore a way forward through the loose floes.

The crew were divided into two companies, and ranged on the starboard and larboard; each man armed with a long


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 in three volumes folio. He had arrived late at the Château the preceding night, and, although he had the honour of presenting his letter of introduction to the Marquess, this morning was the first time he had been seen by any of the party present, who were of course profoundly ignorant of his character.

"Oh! we were talking of some South American bird given to the Marchioness by the famous Captain Tropic; you know him, perhaps, Bolivar's brother-in-law, or aid-de-camp, or something of that kind;—and which screams so dreadfully at night, that the whole family is disturbed. The Chowchowtow it's called—isn't it, Mrs. Lorraine?""

"The Chowchowtow!" said Mr. Mackaw; "I don't know it by that name."

"Oh! don't you? I dare say we shall find an account of it in Spix; however," said Vivian, rising, and taking a volume from the

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 "That is true, too," said Bolton.

"Besides, is the animal like any other honest dog, fond of human society? Does he follow the cook about, and watch all his movements when he brings in the dishes to the cabin? Don't you hear him at night, when he is two or three miles from the ship, howling till he makes your flesh creep, which, by the way, isn't a very difficult matter in such a temperature. And, to crown all, have you ever seen him eat any food? He will take nothing from anybody. His cake is never touched, and unless someone feeds him secretly, I may safely say he is an animal that lives without eating. Now, you may call me a fool if you like, if that isn't peculiar enough."

"Upon my word," said Bell, the carpenter, who had listened to all Clifton's arguments, "it is not impossible you may be right."

The other sailors were silent, till Bolton changed the subject by asking where the Forward was going.

"I don't know," said Bell. "At a given moment, Shandon is to receive his final instructions."

"But how?"

"How?"

"Yes, how? that's the question," repeated Bolton.

"Come, Bell, give us an answer," urged the others.

"I don't know how," said the carpenter. "I can tell no more than you can."

"Oh! by the dog-captain, of course," exclaimed Clifton. "He has written once already; I daresay he can manage a second letter. Oh, if I but knew half that dog does, I should feel fit to be First Lord of the Admiralty."

"So, then, the short and long of it is, that you stick to your opinion, Clifton," said Bolton.

"I've told you that already."

"Well," said Pen, in a deep, hollow voice, "all I know is, if that beast don't want to die in a dog's skin, he had better be quick, and turn into a man, for I'll do for him as sure as my name is Pen."

"And what for?" said Garry.

"Because I choose," was the rude reply. "I am not bound to give an account of my doings to anyone."

"Come, boys, you have had talk enough," said Johnson, interrupting the conversation to prevent a quarrel. "Get


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Talk:Interview to Tucker Carlson

Wrong English syntax in title
The official transcript has the title "Interview to Tucker Carlson" instead of "Interview with ...". If I understand Wikisource policy correctly, we don't comment on errors like these, since the aim is to present the source as it is. Boud (talk) 19:16, 13 February 2024 (UTC)

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RV 109 (BUDDENBROOKS) portance of her own person and destiny. But now, here he was—he stood before her. What was going to happen? And again she felt that she was going to weep.

At a rapid stride, his head tipped on one side, his arms outstretched, with the air of a man who says: “Here I am, kill me if you will!” he approached. “What a providence!” he cried. “I find you here, Antonie—” (He said “Antonie”!)

Tony stood erect, her novel in her right hand. She stuck out her lips and gave her head a series of little jerks upward, relieving her irritation by stressing, in that manner, each word as she spoke it. She got out “What is the matter with you?”—But the tears were already rising. And Herr Grünlich’s own excitement was too great for him to realize the check.

“How could I wait longer? Was I not driven to return?” he said in impassioned tones. “A week ago I had your Father’s letter, which filled me with hope. I could bear it no longer. Could I thus linger on in half-certainty? I threw myself into a carriage, I hastened hither, I have taken a couple of rooms at the City of Hamburg—and here I am, Antonie, to hear from your lips the final word which will make me happier than I can express.”

Tony was stunned. Her tears retreated abashed. This, then, was the effect of her Father’s careful letter, which had indefinitely postponed the decision. Two or three times she stammered: “You are mistaken—you are mistaken.”

Herr Grünlich had drawn an arm-chair close to her seat in the window. He sat down, he obliged her to sit as well, and, bowing over her hand, which, limp with indecision, she resigned to him, he went on in a trembling voice: “Fräulein Antonie, since first I saw you, that afternoon,—do you remember that afternoon, when I saw you, a vision of loveliness, in your own family circle?—Since then, your name has been indelibly written on my heart.” He went back, corrected himself, and said “graven”: “Since that day, Fräulein Antonie, it has been my only, my most ardent wish, to win your beautiful hand. What your Father’s letter permitted me only

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 book-case; "ay! here it is—I'll read it to you.

"The Chowchowtow is about five feet seven inches in length, from the point of the bill, to the extremity of the claws. Its plumage is of a dingy, yellowish white: its form is elegant, and in its movements, and action, a certain pleasing and graceful dignity is observable; but its head is by no means worthy of the rest of its frame; and the expression of its eye is indicative of the cunning, and treachery, of its character. The habits of this bird are peculiar: occasionally most easily domesticated, it is apparently sensible of the slightest kindness; but its regard cannot be depended upon, and for the slightest inducement, or with the least irritation, it will fly at its feeder. At other times, it seeks the most perfect solitude, and can only be captured with the greatest skill and perseverance. It generally feeds three times a-day, but

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 "And that's all!" exclaimed the Doctor.

"That's all," was Shandon's reply.

"Well!" said Wall, "this Quixotic captain doesn't even so much as speak of coming on board now. I infer from this he doesn't intend to come at all."

"But this letter," said Johnson, "how did it get on board the vessel?"

Shandon was silent.

"Mr. Wall is right," replied the Doctor, picking up the letter which had fallen on the floor, and giving it back to Shandon.

"The captain won't come on board for a very good reason."

"And what is it?" inquired Shandon, eagerly.

"Because he is there already!" said the Doctor flatly.

"Already! What do you mean?"

"If he is not, how do you explain the arrival of the letter?"

Johnson nodded his head approvingly.

"It is not possible!" exclaimed Shandon. "I know every one of the crew; and, if your idea were correct, the captain must have been on board ever since the ship sailed. It is perfectly impossible, I say; for there is not a man among them I haven't seen more than a hundred times in Liverpool during the last two years. No, no, Doctor; your theory is altogether inadmissible."

"Well, then, how do you account for it?"

"Any way but that. I grant you that the captain, or someone employed by him, may have taken advantage of the fog and darkness to slip on board unperceived. We are not far from land, and the Esquimaux kayaks glide alone noiselessly between the icebergs. He might easily have managed to climb up the ship and deposit the letter. The fog has been quite dense enough for that."

"Yes, and dense enough, too, to keep anyone from seeing the brig; for if we could not notice an intruder coming on deck, it is not very likely he would be able to discover the vessel."

"I think that too," said Johnson. "What do you say, Mr. Shandon?"

"Anything you like, except that he is one of the crew," said Shandon, in an excited manner.


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 "Perhaps it is one of the sailors who has been commissioned by him," suggested Wall.

"That may be," said the Doctor.

"But which of them?" asked Shandon. "I tell you, all the men have been personally known to me this long time."

"At any rate, the captain will be welcome whenever he chooses to come, be he man or fiend," said Johnson. "But there is one piece of information in the letter at all events. We are not only going to Melville Bay but to Smith's Straits."

"Smith's Straits," repeated Shandon, mechanically.

"It is evident," continued Johnson, "that the object of the Forward is not to seek the North-West passage, since we must leave Lancaster Sound, the only entrance to it, on the left. This supposes very difficult navigation for us in unknown seas."

"Yes," said Shandon, "Smith's Sound was the course taken by the American Dr. Kane in 1853; and what dangers he encountered! He was given up for lost for a long time. However, if we are to go, we go. But where? To the Pole?"

"Why not?" asked the Doctor.

Johnson shrugged his shoulders at the bare possibility of such a mad attempt.

"Well, then," said Wall, "to come back to the captain; if he exists, I hardly see any place in Greenland where he can be waiting for us except Disko, or Upernavik, so in a few days at most we shall know better how the case stands."

"But, Shandon," asked the Doctor, "are you not going to tell the men about this letter?"

"With your leave, sir," said Johnson, addressing Shandon, "I say not."

"And why not?"

"Because anything so unheard-of and so mysterious disspirits the men. They are very uneasy as it is about the issue of this strange expedition, but if anything supernatural should occur, it might have the worst possible effect on them, and we could never rely on them when most wanted."

"What is your opinion, Doctor?" asked Shandon.

"Johnson's reasoning seems convincing, I think," was the reply.

"And what say you, James?"


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RV 110 (BUDDENBROOKS) to hope, that I implore you to confirm to me now in all certainty. I may feel sure of your consent—I may be assured of it?” He took her other hand in his and looked deep into her wide-open, frightened eyes. He had left off his worsted gloves to-day, and his hands were long and white, marked with blue veins. Tony stared at his pink face, at his wart, at his eyes, which were as blue as a goose’s.

“Oh, no, no,” she broke out, rapidly, in terror. And then she added, “No, I will never yield my consent.” She took great pains to speak firmly, but she was already in tears.

“How have I deserved this doubt and hesitation?” he asked in a lower, well-nigh reproachful tone. “I know you are a maiden cherished and sheltered by the most loving care. But I swear to you, I pledge you my word of honour as a man, that I would carry you in my arms, that as my wife you would lack nothing, that you would live in Hamburg a life altogether worthy of you—”

Tony sprang up. She freed her hand and, with the tears rolling down her cheeks, cried out in desperation, “No, no! I said no! I am refusing you—for heaven’s sake, can’t you understand?” Then Herr Grünlich rose up too. He took one backward step and stretched out his arms toward her, palms up. Seriously, like a man of honour and resolution, he spoke.

“Mademoiselle Buddenbrook, you understand that I cannot permit myself to be insulted?”

“But I am not insulting you, Herr Grünlich,” said Tony, repenting her brusqueness. Oh, dear, oh dear, why did all this have to happen to her? Such a wooing as this she had never imagined. She had supposed that one only had to say: “Your offer does me great honour, but I cannot accept it,” and that would be an end of the matter. “Your offer does me great honour,” she said, as calmly as she could, “but I cannot accept it. And now I must go; please excuse me—I am busy—” But Herr Grünlich stood in front of her.

“You reject me?” he said gloomily.

“Yes,” Tony said; adding with tact, “unfortunately.” RV 110 (110)


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 its appetite is not rapacious; it sleeps little; is usually on the wing at sunrise, and proves that it slumbers but little in the night by its nocturnal and thrilling shrieks."

"What an extraordinary bird! Is that the bird you meant, Mrs. Felix Lorraine?"

Mr. Mackaw was extremely restless the whole time that Vivian was reading this interesting extract. At last, he burst forth with an immense deal of science, and a great want of construction—a want, which scientific men often experience, always excepting those mealy-mouthed professeurs who lecture "at the Royal," and get patronized by the blues—the Lavoisiers of May Fair!

"Chowchowtow, my Lady!—five feet seven inches high! Brazilian bird! When I just remind your Ladyship, that the height of the tallest bird to be found in Brazil,—and in mentioning this fact, I mention nothing hypothetical,—the tallest bird does not stand higher

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 "I incline to Johnson, sir."

After a few moments' reflection, Shandon read the letter carefully again, and then said:

"Your opinion is very sensible, but excuse me, gentlemen, I cannot adopt it."

"Why not, Shandon?"

"Because my instructions are plain and precise. I am told to convey a message from the captain to the crew. All I have to do is to obey orders, however they may have come to me, and I cannot"

"But, sir," interrupted Johnson, mainly concerned at the disastrous effect of any such communication on the sailors.

"My good fellow," said Shandon, "I can understand your opposition, but I put it to yourself, whether I have any option in the matter. Read the letter. 'He begs you to convey his thanks to the crew.'"

"Well, then," said Johnson, when his love of discipline was thus appealed to, "shall I assemble the men on deck?"

"Do so," replied Shandon.

The news of a communication from the captain soon spread, and the sailor needed no second summons to hear the mysterious letter. They listened to it in gloomy silence, but gave way to all sorts of wild conjectures, as they dispersed to their work. The superstitious Clifton ascribed everything, as usual, to the dog-captain, and said triumphantly: "Didn't I say that animal could write?"

From this day forward he always took care to touch his cap whenever he chanced to meet him about the ship. One thing was patent to the observation of anyone—the captain, or his ghost, was always watching over their doings, and prudent individuals began to think it advisable to keep quiet, and say as little about him as possible.

By observations taken at noon on the 1st of May, the longitude was found to be 32° and the latitude 68°. The temperature had risen, and the thermometer stood at 26° above zero.

The Doctor was on deck, amusing himself with the gambols of a white bear and her cubs, on a pack of ice frozen fast to the shore. He tried to capture her, with the assistance of Wall and Simpson; but the brute was evidently of a peaceable disposition, for she never showed fight at all, but scampered off with her progeny at full speed.


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 than four feet nine. Chowchowtow! Dr. Spix is a name—accurate traveller—don't remember the passage—most singular bird! Chowchowtow! don't know it by that name. Perhaps, your Ladyship isn't aware. I think you called that gentleman Mr. Grey. Perhaps, Mr. Grey is not aware, that I am Mr. Mackaw—I arrived here late last night—whose work in three volumes folio, on Brazilian Parroquets, although I had the honour of seeing his Lordship is, I trust, a sufficient evidence that I am. not speaking at random on this subject; and consequently, from the lateness of the hour, could not have the honour of being introduced to your Ladyship."

"Mr. Mackaw!" thought Vivian. "The deuce you are! Oh! why didn't I say a Columbian cassowary, or a Peruvian penquin, or a Chilian condor, or a Guatemalan goose, or a Mexican mastard—any tiling but Brazilian, Oh! unfortunate Vivian Grey!"

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RV 111 (BUDDENBROOKS) Herr Grünlich gave a gusty sigh. He took two big steps backward, bent his torso to one side, pointed with his fore-finger to the carpet and said in an awful voice: “Antonie!” Thus for the space of a moment they stood, he in a posture of commanding rage, Tony pale, weepy, and trembling, her damp handkerchief to her mouth. Then he turned from her and, with his hands on his back, measured the room twice through, as if he were at home. He paused at the window and looked out into the early dusk. Tony moved cautiously toward the glass doors, but she got only as far as the middle of the room when he stood beside her again.

“Tony!” he murmured, and gently took her hand. Then he sank, yes, he sank slowly upon his knees beside her! His two gold whiskers lay across her hand!

“Tony!” he repeated. “You behold me here—you see to what you have brought me. Have you a heart to feel what I endure? Listen. You behold a man condemned to death, devoted to destruction, a man who—who will certainly die of grief,” he interrupted himself, “if you scorn his love. Here I lie. Can you find it in your heart to say: ‘I despise you’?”

“No, no,” Tony said quickly in a consoling tone. Her tears were conquered, pity stirred. Heavens, how he must adore her, to go on like that, while she herself felt completely indifferent! Was it to her, Tony Buddenbrook, that all this was happening? One read of it in the novels. But here in real life was a man in a frock-coat, on his knees in front of her, weeping, imploring. The idea of marrying him was simply idiotic, because she had found him silly; but just at this moment he did not seem silly; heavens, no! Honourable, upright, desperate entreaty were in his voice and face.

“No, no,” she repeated, bending over him quite touched. “I don’t despise you, Herr Grünlich. How can you say such a thing? Do get up—please do!”

“Then you will not kill me?” he asked again; and she answered, in a consoling, almost motherly tone, “No, no.”

“That is a promise!” he cried, springing to his feet. But

RV 111 (111)


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RV 112 (BUDDENBROOKS) when he saw Tony’s frightened face he got down again and went on in a wheedling tone: “Good, good, say no more, Antonie. Enough, for this time. We shall speak of this again. No more now—farewell. I will return—farewell!” He had got quickly to his feet. He took his broad grey hat from the table, kissed her hand, and was out through the glass doors in a twinkling.

Tony saw him take his stick from the hall and disappear down the corridor. She stood, bewildered and worn out, in the middle of the room, with the damp handkerchief in one of her limp hands. RV 112 (112)


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 The Marchioness, who was quite overcome with this scientific appeal, raised her large, beautiful, sleepy eyes, from a delicious compound of French roll and new milk, which she was working up in a Sevre saucer for Julie; and then, as usual, looked to Vivian for assistance.

"Grey, dear! You know every thing. Tell Mr. Mackaw about a bird."

"Is there any point on which you differ from Spix in his account of the Chowchowtow, Mr. Mackaw?"

"My dear sir, I don't follow him at all. Dr. Spix is a most excellent man; a most accurate traveller—quite a name—but to be sure, I've only read his work in our own tongue; and I fear from the passage you have just quoted—five feet seven inches high! in Brazil!  It must be a most imperfect version. I say, that four feet nine is the greatest height I know. I don't speak without some foundation for my statement. The only bird I know above

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 that height is the Paraguay cassowary; which, to be sure, is sometimes found in Brazil. But the description of your bird, Mr. Grey, does not answer that at all. I ought to know. I do not speak at random. The only living specimen of that extraordinary bird, the Paraguay cassowary, in this country, is in my possession. It was sent me by Bonpland; and was given to him by the dictator of Paraguay himself. I call it, in compliment, Doctor Francia. I arrived here so late last night—only saw his Lordship—or I would have had it on the lawn this morning."

"Oh! then, Mr. Mackaw," said Vivian, "that was the bird which screamed last night!"

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Mr. Mackaw," said Mrs. Felix Lorraine.

"Marchioness! Marchioness!" continued Vivian, "it 's found out. It 's Mr. Mackaw's particular friend, his family physician, whom he always travels with, that awoke us all last night."

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 "Is he a foreigner?" asked the Marchioness, looking up.

"My dear Mr. Grey, impossible! the Doctor never screams."

"Oh! Mr. Mackaw, Mr. Mackaw!" said Vivian.

"Oh! Mr. Mackaw, Mr. Mackaw!" said Mrs. Felix Lorraine.

"I tell you he never screams," reiterated the man of science, "I tell you he can't scream, he's muzzled."

"Oh! then, it must have been the Chowchowtow."

"Yes; I think it must have been the Chowchowtow."

"I should very much like to hear Spix's description again," said Mr, Mackaw, "only I fear it 's troubling you too much, Mr. Grey."

"Read it yourself, my dear Sir," said Vivian, putting the book into his hand, which was the third volume of Tremaine.

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 Mr. Mackaw looked at the volume, and turned it over, and sideways, and upside downwards: the brain of a man who has written three folios on parroquets is soon puzzled. At first, he thought the book was a novel; but then, an essay on predestination, under the title of Memoirs of a Man of Refinement, rather puzzled him; then he mistook it for an Oxford reprint of Pearson on the Creed; and then he stumbled on rather a warm scene in an old Château in the South of France.

Before Mr. Mackaw could gain the power of speech, the door opened, and entered—who?—Doctor Francia.

Mr. Mackaw's travelling companion possessed the awkward accomplishment of opening doors, and now strutted in, in quest of his beloved master. Affection for Mr. Mackaw was not, however, the only cause which induced this entrée.

The household of Château Desir, unused to

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 cassowarys, had neglected to supply Dr. Francia with his usual breakfast, which consisted of half a dozen pounds of rump steaks, a couple of bars of hard iron, some pig lead, and brown stout. The consequence was, the dictator was sadly famished.

All the ladies screamed; and then Mrs. Felix Lorraine admired the Doctor's violet neck, and the Marchioness looked with an anxious eye on Julie, and Miss Graves, as in duty bound, with an anxious eye on the Marchioness.

There stood the Doctor, quite still, with his large yellow eye fixed on Mr. Mackaw. At length, he perceived the cold pasty, and his little black wings began to flutter on the surface of his immense body.

"Che, che, che, che!" said the ornithologist, who didn't like the symptoms at all: "Che, che, che, che,—don't be frightened, ladies! you see he's muzzled—che, che, che, che,—now, my dear doctor, now, now, now,

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 Franky, Franky, Franky, now go away, go away, that's a dear doctor—che, che, che che!"

But the large yellow eye grew more flaming and fiery, and the little black wings grew larger, and larger; and now the left leg was dashed to and fro, with a fearful agitation. Mackaw looked agonized.—Pop!—what a whirr!—Francia is on the table!—All shriek, the chairs tumble over the Ottomans—the Sevre china is in a thousand pieces—the muzzle is torn off and thrown at Miss Graves; Mackaw's wig is dashed in the clotted cream, and devoured on the spot; and the contents of the boiling urn are poured over the beauteous, and beloved Julie!

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and Mrs. Felix Lorraine again met, and the gentleman scarcely appeared to be aware that this meeting was not their first. The lady sighed, and fainted, and remonstrated; and terrific scenes followed each other in frightful succession. She reproached Mr. Cleveland with passages of letters. He stared, and deigned not a reply to an artifice, which he considered equally impudent and shallow. Vivian was forced to interfere; but as he deprecated all explanation, his interference was of little avail; and, as it was ineffec-

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 tual for one party, and uncalled for by the other, it was, of course, not encouraged. At length Mrs. Felix broke through all bounds. Now the enraged woman insulted Mrs. Cleveland, and now humbled herself before Mrs. Cleveland's husband. Her insults, and her humility, were treated with equal hauteur; and at length the Clevelands left Buckhurst Lodge.

Peculiar as was Mrs. Lorraine's conduct in this particular respect, we should, in candour, confess, that, at this moment, it was in all others most exemplary. Her whole soul seemed concentrated in the success of the approaching struggle. No office was too mechanical for her attention, or too elaborate for her enthusiastic assiduity. Her attentions were not confined merely to Vivian, and the Marquess, but were lavished with equal generosity on their colleagues. She copied letters for Sir Berdmore, and composed letters for Lord Courtown, and construed letters to Lord Beacons-

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309 Where are you from, Socrates? But I need hardly ask,—fresh from the chase of the young Alcibiades, of course. Well, I must confess that I too, when I saw him the other day, thought him handsome still, but a handsome man,—for between ourselves, Socrates, a man he is now;$1$ his beard is already beginning to grow.

And what of that? Do you, then, not agree with Homer, who says that the most charming age is when the beard first appears,$2$ which is now just the age of Alcibiades?

Well, how stand matters now? Have you just left the youth? and on what terms are you with him?

On excellent terms, I should say, and never better than this very day. He came to my rescue, and has been doing a great deal of talking for me; I have only just parted from him, But I must tell you an amazing thing: Rh


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 field; they, in return, echoed her praises to her delighted relative, who was daily congratulated on the possession of "such a fascinating sister-in-law."

"Well, Vivian," said Mrs. Lorraine, to that young gentleman, the day previous to his departure from Buckhurst Lodge; "you are going to leave me behind you."

"Indeed!"

"Yes! I hope you will not want me. I'm very much annoyed at not being able to go to town with you, but Lady Courtown is so pressing! and I've really promised so often to stay a week with her, that I thought it was better to make out my promise at once, than in six months hence."

"Well! I'm exceedingly sorry, for you really are so useful! and the interest you take in every thing is so encouraging, that, really, I very much fear that we shall not be able to get on without you. The important hour draws nigh."

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 The causes or circumstances which naturally introduce subordination, or which naturally, and antecedent to any civil institution, give some men some superiority over the greater part of their brethren, seem to be four in number.

The first of those causes or circumstances is the superiority of personal qualifications, of strength, beauty, and agility of body; of wisdom and virtue, of prudence, justice, fortitude, and moderation of mind. The qualifications of the body, unless supported by those of the mind, can give little authority in any period of society. He is a very strong man, who by mere strength of body can force two weak ones to obey him. The qualifications of the mind can alone give very great authority. They are, however, invisible qualities; always disputable, and generally disputed. No society, whether barbarous or civilized, has ever found it convenient to settle the rules of precedence of rank and subordination according to those invisible qualities, but according to something that is more plain and palpable.

The second of those causes or circumstances is the superiority of age. An old man, provided his age is not so far advanced as to give suspicion of dotage, is everywhere more respected than a young man of equal rank, fortune, and abilities. Among nations of hunters, such as the native tribes of North America, age is the sole foundation of rank and precedence. Among them, father is the appellation of a superior; brother, of an equal; and son, of an inferior. In the most opulent and civilized nations, age regulates rank among those who are in every other respect equal, and among whom, therefore, there is nothing else to regulate it. Among brothers and among sisters, the eldest always takes place; and in the succession of the paternal


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 "It does indeed, Vivian—and I assure you that there is no person awaiting it with intenser interest than myself. I little thought," she added, in a low, but distinct voice, "I little thought, when I first reached England, that I should ever again be interested in any thing in this world." Vivian was silent—for he had nothing to say.

"Vivian!" very briskly resumed Mrs. Lorraine, "I shall get you to frank all my letters for me. I shall never trouble the Marquess again. Do you know, it strikes me you'll make a very good speaker!"

"You flatter me exceedingly—suppose you give me a few lessons."

"But you must leave off some of your wicked tricks, Vivian! You must not improvise Parliamentary papers!"

"Improvise papers, Mrs. Lorraine! what can you mean?"

"Oh! nothing. I never mean any thing."

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 estate, everything which cannot be divided, but must go entire to one person, such as a title of honor, is in most cases given to the eldest. Age is a plain and palpable quality which admits of no dispute.

The third of those causes or circumstances is the superiority of fortune. The authority of riches, however, though great in every age of society, is perhaps greatest in the rudest ages of society which admit of any considerable inequality of fortune. A Tartar chief, the increase of whose herds and flocks is sufficient to maintain a thousand men, cannot well employ that increase in any other way than in maintaining a thousand men. The rude state of his society does not afford him any manufactured produce, any trinkets or bawbles of any kind, for which he can exchange that part of his rude produce, which is over and above his own consumption. The thousand men whom he thus maintains, depending entirely upon him for their subsistence, must both obey his orders in war, and submit to his jurisdiction in peace. He is necessarily both their general and their judge, and his chieftainship is the necessary effect of the superiority of his fortune. In an opulent and civilized society, a man may possess a much greater fortune, and yet not be able to command a dozen of people. Though the produce of his estate may be sufficient to maintain, and may perhaps actually maintain, more than a thousand people, yet as those people pay for everything which they get from him, as he gives scarce anything to anybody but in exchange for an equivalent, there is scarce anybody who considers himself as entirely dependent upon him, and his authority extends only over a few menial servants. The authority of fortune, however, is very great even in an opulent and civilized society. That it is much greater than


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 "But you must have had some meaning."

"Some meaning! Oh! yes, I dare say I had;—I meant—I meant—do you think it'll rain to-day?"

"Every prospect of a hard frost. I never knew before that I was an improvisatore."

"Nor I. Have you heard from papa lately. I suppose hes quite in spirits at your success?"

"My father is a man who seldom gives way to any elation of mind."

"Ah, indeed! a philosopher, I've no doubt, like his son."

"I have no claims, I believe, to the title of philosopher, although I have had the advantage of studying in the school of Mrs. Felix Lorraine."

"Lord! what do you mean? If I thought you meant to be impertinent, I really would pull that pretty little curl; but I excuse you—I think the boy means well."

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 that either of age or of personal qualities, has been the constant complaint of every period of society which admitted of any considerable inequality of fortune. The first period of society, that of hunters, admits of no such inequality. Universal poverty establishes their universal equality, and the superiority, either of age, or of personal qualities, are the feeble, but the sole foundations of authority and subordination. There is therefore little or no authority or subordination in this period of society. The second period of society, that of shepherds, admits of very great inequalities of fortune, and there is ho period in which the superiority of fortune gives so great authority to those who possess it. There is no period accordingly in which authority and subordination are more perfectly established. The authority of an Arabian scherif is very great; that of a Tartar khan altogether despotical.

The fourth of those causes or circumstances is the superiority of birth. Superiority of birth supposes an ancient superiority of fortune in the family of the person who claims it. All families are equally ancient; and the ancestors of the prince, though they may be better known, cannot well be more numerous than those of the beggar. Antiquity of family means everywhere the antiquity either of wealth, or of that greatness which is commonly either founded upon wealth, or accompanied with it. Upstart greatness is everywhere less respected than ancient greatness. The hatred of usurpers, the love of the family of an ancient monarch, are, in a great measure, founded upon the contempt which men naturally have for the former, and upon their veneration for the latter. As a military officer submits without reluctance to the authority of a superior by whom he has always been commanded, but cannot bear that his inferior should be set


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Comte de la Roche had just finished déjeuner, consisting of an omelette fines herbes, an entrecôte Bearnaise, and a Savarin au Rhum. Wiping his fine black moustache delicately with his table napkin, the Comte rose from the table. He passed through the salon of the villa, noting with appreciation the few objets d'art which were carelessly scattered about. The Louis XV. snuff-box, the satin shoe worn by Marie Antoinette, and the other historic trifles were part of the Comte's mise en scène. They were, he would explain to his fair visitors, heirlooms in his family. Passing through on to the terrace, the Comte looked out on the Mediterranean with an unseeing eye. He was in no mood for appreciating the beauties of scenery. A fully matured scheme had been rudely brought to naught, and his plans had to be cast afresh. Stretching himself out in a basket chair, a cigarette held between his white fingers, the Comte pondered deeply.

Presently Hippolyte, his man-servant, brought out coffee and a choice of liqueurs. The Comte selected some very fine old brandy.

As the man-servant was preparing to depart, the Comte arrested him with a slight gesture. Hippolyte stood respectfully to attention. His countenance was hardly a prepossessing one, but the correctitude of his demeanour went far to obliterate the fact.


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 He was now the picture of respectful attention.

"It is possible," said the Comte, "that in the course of the next few days various strangers may come to the house. They will endeavour to scrape acquantance with you and with Marie. They will probably ask you various questions concerning me."

"Yes, Monsieur le Comte."

"Perhaps this has already happened?"

"No, Monsieur le Comte."

"There have been no strangers about the place? You are certain?"

"There has been no one, Monsieur le Comte."

"That is well," said the Comte drily; "nevertheless they will comeI am sure of it. They will ask questions."

Hippolyte looked at his master in intelligent anticipation.

The Comte spoke slowly, without looking at Hippolyte.

"As you know, I arrived here last Tuesday morning. If the police or any other inquirer should question you, do not forget that fact. I arrived on Tuesday, the 14thnot Wednesday, the 15th. You understand?"

"Perfectly, Monsieur le Comte."

"In an affair where a lady is concerned, it is always necessary to be discreet. I feel certain, Hippolyte, that you can be discreet."

"I can be discreet, Monsieur."

"And Marie?"

"Marie also. I will answer for her."

"That is well then," murmured the Comte.

When Hippolyte had withdrawn, the Comte sipped


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 "Oh! the boy 'means nothing—he never means any thing.'"

"Come, Vivian! we are going to part. Don't let us quarrel the last day. There, my little pet, there 's a sprig of myrtle for you!

 * 'What! not accept my foolish flower?
 * Nay then, I am unblest indeed!'

and now you want it all! Oh, you unreasonable young man! If I were not the kindest lady in the land, I should tear this little sprig into a thousand pieces sooner; but come, my pretty pet! you shall have it. There! it looks quite imposing in your button-hole. How handsome you look to-day!"

"How agreeable you are to-day! I do so love compliments!"

"Oh! Vivian—will you never give me credit for any thing but a light and callous heart? Will you never be convinced that—that—but why make this humiliating confession? Oh!  no, let me be misunderstood for ever! The

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 time may come, when Vivian Grey will find that Amalia Lorraine was—"

"Was what. Lady?"

"You shall choose the word, Vivian."

"Say then my friend."

"'Tis a monosyllable full of meaning, and I will not quarrel with it. And now, adieu! Heaven prosper you! Believe me, that my first thoughts, and my last, are for you, and of you!"

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 his black coffee with a reflective air. Occasionally he frowned, once he shook his head slightly, twice he nodded it. Into the midst of these cogitations came Hippolyte once more.

"A lady. Monsieur."

"A lady?"

The Comte was surprised. Not that a visit from a lady was an unusual thing at the Villa Marina, but at this particular moment the Comte could not think who the lady was likely to be.

"She is, I think, a lady not known to Monsieur," murmured the valet helpfully.

The Comte was more and more intrigued.

"Show her out here, Hippolyte," he commanded.

A moment later a marvellousmarvelous [sic] vision in orange and black stepped out on the terrace, accompanied by a strong perfume of exotic blossoms.

"Monsieur le Comte de la Roche?"

"At your service, Mademoiselle," said the Comte, bowing.

"My name is Mirelle. You may have heard of me."

"Ah, indeed. Mademoiselle, but who has not been enchanted by the dancing of Mademoiselle Mirelle? Exquisite!"

The dancer acknowledged this compliment with a brief mechanical smile.

"My descent upon you is unceremonious," she began.

"But seat yourself, I beg of you. Mademoiselle," cried the Comte, bringing forward a chair.

Behind the gallantry of his manner he was observing her narrowly. There were very few things that the Comte did not know about women. True, his experience


text: Vivian Grey/Volume 2/Chapter 4.3

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 had not lain much in ladies of Mirelle's class, who were themselves predatory. He and the dancer were, in a sense, birds of a feather. His arts, the Comte knew, would be thrown away on Mirelle. She was a Parisienne, and a shrewd one. Nevertheless, there was one thing that the Comte could recognize infallibly when he saw it. He knew at once that he was in the presence of a very angry woman, and an angry woman, as the Comte was well aware, always says more than is prudent, and is occasionally a source of profit to a level-headed gentleman who keeps cool.

"It is most amiable of you. Mademoiselle, to honour my poor abode thus."

"We have mutual friends in Paris," said Mirelle. "I have heard of you from them, but I come to see you to-day for another reason. I have heard of you since I came to Nicein a different way, you understand."

"Ah?" said the Comte softly.

"I will be brutal," continued the dancer; "nevertheless, believe that I have your welfare at heart. They are saying in Nice, Monsieur le Comte, that you are the murderer of the English lady, Madame Kettering."

"I!the murderer of Madame Kettering? Bah! But how absurd!"

He spoke more languidly than indignantly, knowing that he would thus provoke her further.

"But yes," she insisted; "it is as I tell you."

"It amuses people to talk," murmured the Comte indifferently. "It would be beneath me to take such wild accusations seriously."

"You do not understand." Mirelle bent forward, her


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 then fell upon his back. In a moment Vivian was at the side of his fallen antagonist; but the dying man 'made no sign'—he stared wildly, and then closed his eyes for ever!

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 dark eyes flashing. "It is not the idle talk of those in the streets. It is the police."

"The policeah?"

The Comte sat up, alert once more.

Mirelle nodded her head vigorously several times.

"Yes, yes. You comprehend meI have friends everywhere. The Prefect himself" She left the sentence unfinished, with an eloquent shrug of the shoulders.

"Who is not indiscreet where a beautiful woman is concerned?" murmured the Count politely.

"The police believe that you killed Madame Kettering. But they are wrong."

"Certainly they are wrong," agreed the Comte easily.

"You say that, but you do not know the truth. I do."

The Comte looked at her curiously.

"You know who killed Madame Kettering? Is that what you would say, Mademoiselle?"

Mirelle nodded vehemently.

"Yes."

"Who was it?" asked the Comte sharply.

"Her husband." She bent nearer to the Comte, speaking in a low voice that vibrated with anger and excitement. "It was her husband who killed her."

The Comte leant back in his chair. His face was a mask.

"Let me ask you, Mademoisellehow do you know this?"

"How do I know it?" Mirelle sprang to her feet, with a laugh. "He boasted of it beforehand. He was ruined, bankrupt, dishonoured. Only the death of his


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 his sixteen-mile-an-hour paces, egad! I wing my man in a trice; and take all the parties home to Pall Mall, to celebrate the event with a grilled bone, Havannahs, and Regent's punch. Ah! there! that 's Cleveland that we have just passed, going to the ground in a chariot: he's a dead man, or my name 's not Poynings—"

"Come, Sir John; no fear of Cleveland's dying," said Vivian with a smile.

"What, you mean to fire in the air, and all that sort of thing?—sentimental, but slip-slop!"

The ground is measured—all is arranged. Cleveland, a splendid shot, fired first. His pistol grazed Vivian's elbow. Vivian fired in the air. The seconds interfered. Cleveland was implacable—and "in the most irregular manner," as Sir John declared, insisted upon another shot. To the astonishment of all, he fired quite wild. Vivian shot at random; and his bullet pierced Cleveland's heart. Cleveland sprang nearly two yards from the ground, and

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 wife could save him. He told me so. He travelled on the same trainbut she was not to know it. Why was that, I ask you? So that he might creep upon her in the nightAh!"she shut her eyes"I can see it happening"

The Count coughed.

"Perhapsperhaps," he murmured. “But surely, Mademoiselle, in that case he would not steal the jewels?"

"The jewels!" breathed Mirelle. "The jewels. Ah! Those rubies"

Her eyes grew misty, a far-away light in them. The Comte looked at her curiously, wondering for the hundredth time at the magical influence of precious stones on the female sex. He recalled her to practical matters.

"What do you want me to do, Mademoiselle?"

Mirelle became alert and business-like once more.

"Surely it is simple. You will go to the police. You will say to them that M. Kettering committed this crime."

"And if they do not believe me? If they ask for proof?" He was eyeing her closely.

Mirelle laughed softly, and drew her orange-and-black wrap closer round her.

"Send them to me. Monsieur le Comte," she said softly; "I will give them the proof they want."

Upon that she was gone, an impetuous whirlwind, her errand accomplished.

The Comte looked after her, his eyebrows delicately raised.

"She is in a fury," he murmured. "What has happened now to upset her? But she shows her hand too


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 plainly. Does she really believe that Mr. Kettering killed his wife? She would like me to believe it. She would even like the police to believe it."

He smiled to himself. He had no intention whatsoever of going to the police. He saw various other possibilities; to judge by his smile, an agreeable vista of them.

Presently, however, his brow clouded. According to Mirelle, he was suspected by the police. That might be true or it might not. An angry woman of the type of the dancer was not likely to bother about the strict veracity of her statements. On the other hand, she might easily have obtainedinside information. In that casehis mouth set grimlyin that case he must take certain precautions.

He went into the house and questioned Hippolyte closely once more as to whether any strangers had been to the house. The valet was positive in his assurances that this was not the case. The Comte went up to his bedroom and crossed over to an old bureau that stood against the wall. He let down the lid of this, and his delicate fingers sought for a spring at the back of one of the pigeon-holes. A secret drawer flew out; in it was a small brown paper package. The Comte took this out and weighed it in his hand carefully for a minute or two. Raising his hand to his head, with a slight grimace he pulled out a single hair. This he placed on the lip of the drawer and shut it carefully. Still carrying the small parcel in his hand, he went downstairs and out of the house to the garage, where stood a scarlet two-seater car. Ten minutes later he had taken the road for Monte Carlo.


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 in the negociation. You both fire—and miss—and then the seconds interfere, and then you shake hands, every thing being arranged in the most honourable manner, and to the mutual satisfaction of both parties. The next day you are seen pacing Bond Street, with an erect front, and a flashing eye—with an air at once dandyish, and heroical—a mixture, at the same time, of Brummell, and the Duke of Wellington.

It was a fine February morning. Sir John drove Vivian to the ground in his cabriolet.

"Nothing like a cab, Grey, for the business you're going on. I only keep it for meetings. You glide along the six miles in such style, that it actually makes you quite courageous. I remember once going down, on a similar purpose, in a post and pair; and 'pon my soul, when I came to the ground, my hand shook so that I could scarcely draw. But I was green then. Now, when I go in my cab, with Philidor with

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 He spent a few hours at the Casino, then sauntered out into the town. Presently he re-entered the car and drove off in the direction of Mentone. Earlier in the afternoon he had noticed an inconspicuous grey car some little distance behind him. He noticed it again now. He smiled to himself. The road was climbing steadily upwards. The Comte's foot pressed hard on the accelerator. The little red car had been specially built to the Comte's design, and had a far more powerful engine than would have been suspected from its appearance. It shot ahead.

Presently he looked back and smiled; the grey car was following behind. Smothered in dust, the little red car leaped along the road. It was travelling now at a dangerous pace, but the Comte was a first-class driver. Now they were going down hill, twisting and curving unceasingly. Presently the car slackened speed, and finally came to a standstill before a Bureau de Poste. The Comte jumped out, lifted the lid of the tool chest, extracted the small brown paper parcel and hurried into the post office. Two minutes later he was driving once more in the direction of Mentone. When the grey car arrived there, the Comte was drinking English five o clock tea on the terrace of one of the hotels.

Later, he drove back to Monte Carlo, dined there, and reached home once more at eleven o'clock. Hippolyte came out to meet him with a disturbed face.

"Ah! Monsieur le Comte has arrived. Monsieur le Comte did not telephone me, by any chance?"

The Comte shook his head.

"And yet at three o'clock I received a summons from


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 Monsieur le Comte, to present myself to him at Nice, at the Negresco."

"Really," said the Comte; "and you went?"

"Certainly, Monsieur, but at the Negresco they knew nothing of Monsieur le Comte. He had not been there."

"Ah," said the Comte, "doubtless at that hour Marie was out doing her afternoon marketing?"

"That is so, Monsieur le Comte."

"Ah, well," said the Comte, "it is of no importance. A mistake."

He went upstairs, smiling to himself.

Once within his own room, he bolted his door and looked sharply round. Everything seemed as usual. He opened various drawers and cupboards. Then he nodded to himself. Things had been replaced almost exactly as he had left them, but not quite. It was evident that a very thorough search had been made.

He went over to the bureau and pressed the hidden spring. The drawer flew open, but the hair was no longer where he had placed it. He nodded his head several times.

"They are excellent, our French police," he murmured to himself—"excellent. Nothing escapes them."


text: The Mystery of the Blue Train/Chapter 19


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 'Tis an awkward business after all—even for the boldest. After an immense deal of negociation, and giving the party every opportunity of coming to an honourable understanding, the fatal letter is, at length, signed, sealed, and sent. You pass your morning at your second's apartments, pacing his drawing-room, with a quivering lip, and uncertain step. At length he enters with an answer, and while he reads, you endeavour to look easy, with a countenance merry with the most melancholy smile. You have no appetite for dinner, but you are too brave not to appear at table; and you are called out after the second glass by the arrival of your solicitor, who comes to alter your will. You pass a restless night, and rise in the morning as bilious as a Bengal general. Urged by impending fate, you make a desperate effort to accommodate matters, but in the contest between your pride and your terror, you, at the same time, prove that you've a coward, and fail

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The Royal Book of Oz several hours. First it had been fine and wide, but it had gradually dwindled to a crooked little path that wound crazily in and out through the trees. Although it was almost noonday, not a ray of sun penetrated through the dim green depths.

"Methinks," said Sir Hokus, peering into the gloom ahead, "that a great adventure is at hand."

The Cowardly Lion put back his ears. "What makes you methink so?" he rumbled anxiously.

"Hark thee!" said Sir Hokus, holding up his finger warningly. From a great way off sounded a curious thumping. It was coming nearer and nearer.

"Good gracious!" cried Dorothy, catching hold of the Cowardly Lion's mane. "This is worse than Pokes!"

"Perchance it is a dragon," exulted the Knight, drawing his short sword. "Ah, how it would refresh me to slay a dragon!"

"I don't relish dragons myself. Scorched my tongue on one once," said the Cowardly Lion huskily. "But I'll fight with you brother Hokus. Stand back, Dorothy, dear."

As the thuds grew louder, the Knight fairly danced up and down with excitement.

"Approach villain!" he roared lustily. "Approach

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 "Mr. Castleton," said Sir John, giving his card, "Mr. Grey will accompany me to my rooms in Pall Mall; it is now ten o'clock; we shall wait two hours, in which time I hope to hear from you. I leave time, and place, and terms, to yourself. I only wish it to be understood, that it is the particular desire of my principal that the meeting should be as speedy as possible."

About eleven o'clock, the communication from Mr. Castleton arrived. It was quite evident that Cleveland was sobered, for in one instance, Vivian observed that the style was corrected by his own hand. The hour was eight, the next morning, at Common, about six miles from town.

Poynings wrote to a professional friend to be on the ground at half-past seven, and then he and Vivian retired.

Did you ever fight a duel? No! nor send a challenge either? Well! you're fresh indeed!

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 "Sir John Poynings!" said Vivian, with a quivering lip, turning to the gentleman who was writing at the table—"we were school-fellows; circumstances have prevented us from meeting often in after-life, but I now ask you, with the frankness of an old acquaintance, to do me the sad service of accompanying me in this quarrel—a quarrel which, I call Heaven to witness, is not of my seeking."

The Baronet, who was in the Guards, and, although a great dandy, quite a man of business in these matters, immediately rose from his seat, and led Vivian to a corner of the room. After some whispering, he turned round to Mr. Cleveland, and bowed to him with a very significant look. It was evident that Cleveland comprehended his meaning, for, though he was silent, he immediately pointed to the other gentleman—his friend, Mr. Castleton.

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 even lose the consciousness of identity of persons. At this moment, it was clear to Vivian that Cleveland was under the influence of the extremest passion: his eyes rolled widely, and seemed fixed only upon vacancy. As Vivian was no friend to scenas before strangers, he bowed to the two gentlemen, and saluted Cleveland with his wonted cordiality; but his proffered hand was rudely repelled.

"Away!" exclaimed Cleveland, in a furious tone; "I have no friendship for traitors!"

The two gentlemen stared, and the pen of the writer stopped.

"Cleveland!" said Vivian, in an earnest whisper, as he came up close to him;—"for God's sake, contain yourself. I have written you a letter which explains all—but—"

"Out! out upon you! Out upon your honied words, and your soft phrases! I've been their dupe too long;" and he struck Vivian with tremendous force.

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text: Sacred Books of the East/Volume 15

title: Sacred Books of the East/Volume 15


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28 ride slower. There seemed no apparent reason why the men should have pulled their car up beside the road, for they were not repairing a breakdown and they were still a little distance from the lane leading to the Morton farmhouse. Then, as the motorcycles slowly passed the car and the three men sullenly regarded the two boys, Frank suppressed an exclamation of surprise.

The three men in the car were the three men who had pursued the boys in the motorboat earlier in the day!

Frank and Joe drove past, conscious of the scrutiny of the unsavory trio in the automobile. The men did not speak, although Frank noticed that one of them drew his cap down over his eyes and muttered something to one of his companions.

When they had gone by, Joe glanced back. The manmen [sic] were paying no further attention to them, but were leaning close together, evidently having resumed their interrupted conversation. There was something stealthy and secretive in their demeanor that was far from reassuring.

"Did you recognize them?" asked Frank, when they were out of earshot.

"I'll say I did! The same gang that followed us in the motorboat."

"I wonder what they're up to."

"Up to no good, by the looks of them."

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 room. As he opened the door, his eyes lighted upon Cleveland.

He was standing with his back to the fire. There were only two other persons in the room: one was a friend of Cleveland's, and the other an acquaintance of Vivian's. The latter was writing at the table.

When Vivian saw Cleveland, he would have retired, but he was bid to "come in," in a voice of thunder.

As he entered, he instantly perceived that Cleveland was under the influence of wine. When in this situation, unlike other men, Mr. Cleveland's conduct was not distinguished by any of the little improprieties of behaviour, by which a man is always known by his friends "to be very drunk." He neither reeled, nor hiccupped, nor grew maudlin. The effect of drinking upon him, was only to increase the intensity of the sensation by which his mind was, at the moment, influenced. He did not

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 fijf

TAITTIRIYAKA-UPANISHAD.

FIRST VALLl,

Or, the Chapter on 6^kshA (pronunciation).

First Anuvaka 1.

i. Hardt, Om ! May Mitra be propitious to us, aii^^^ani^a^Aryaman also,In4ra/brzhaspati. and the wide-striding Vishnu T. rerr

Adoration to Brahman ! Adoration to thee, O Vdyu (air)! Thou indeed art the visible Brahman. I shall proclaim thee alone as the visible Brahman. I shall proclaim the right. I shall proclaim the true (scil. Brahman).

(1-5) 3 May it protect me! May it protect the teacher ! yes, may it protect me, and may it protect the teacher ! Om ! Peace ! peace ! peace !

1 This invocation is here counted as an Anuv&ka; see Taitt. Ar., ed. Rajendralal Mitra, p. 725.

2 This verse is taken from Rig-veda-sawhitd 1, 90, 9. The deities are variously explained by the commentators : Mitra as god of the Pra*«a (forth-breathing) and of the day ; Varu«a as god of the Ap&na (oflf-breathing) and of the night. Aryaman is supposed to represent the eye or the sun ; Indra, strength ; Br/haspati, speech or intellect ; Vish«u, the feet. Their favour is invoked, because it is only if they grant health that the study of the highest wisdom can proceed without fail.

3 Five short sentences, in addition to the one paragraph. Such sentences occur at the end of other Anuv&kas also, and are counted separately.

Digitized by VjOOQ 1C


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Rh "That's a queer place to park their car—so close to the Morton farm, too."

"They look like a bad outfit to me," remarked Joe.

"I'd like to know more about them. There was something funny about the way they chased us in the boat. And don't you remember how closely they looked at Chet and Biff? It seems funny to see them hanging around the farm."

"Well, they haven't done us any harm. I suppose it's none of our business—but I'd sure like to know what their game is. Let's find Chet and tell him."

They increased their speed and before long overtook Chet Morton on the shore road. But Chet laughed at their fears.

"You're too suspicious," he said. "They had probably just stopped to fix a tire when you came along. However, we'll go back to the farm and see if they're still on hand."

But when the boys drove back to the Morton farm they found that the mysterious trio in the automobile were no longer in sight.

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 he was dancing them on his knee, and playing with their curls, and joining in their pretty prattle, and pressing their small and fragrant lips.

It was night when he paced down.—He passed his club; that club, to become a member of which, had once been the object of his high ambition, and to gain which privilege had cost such hours of canvassing; such interference of noble friends; and the incurring of favours from five thousand people, "which never could be forgotten."

I know not what desperate feeling actuated him, but he entered the Club-house. He walked into the great saloon, and met some fifty "most particular friends," all of whom asked him, "how the Marquess did," or "have you seen Cleveland?" and a thousand other as comfortable queries. At length, to avoid these disagreeable rencontres; and, indeed, to rest himself, he went to a smaller and more private

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text: The Missing Chums/Chapter 3

title: The Missing Chums/Chapter 3


text: Sacred Books of the East/Volume 17

title: Sacred Books of the East/Volume 17


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 With what miraculous quickness will man shake off the outward semblance of grief, when his sorrow is a secret! The mighty Merchant, who knows that in four-and-twenty hours the world must be astounded by his insolvency, will walk in the front of his confident creditor, as if he were the lord of a thousand argosies—the meditating Suicide will smile on the arm of a companion, as if to breathe in this sunny world, were the most ravishing, and rapturous bliss. We cling to our stations in our fellow creatures' minds, and memories; we know, too well, the frail tenure on which we are in this world, great and considered personages. Experience makes us shrink from the specious sneer of Sympathy; and when we are ourselves falling, bitter Memory whispers, that we have ourselves been neglectful.

And so it was, that, even unto these infants, Vivian Grey dared not appear other than a gay, and easy-hearted man; and in a moment

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96 the Blessed One preached to him in due course; that is to say, he talked about the merits obtained by alms-giving, about the duties of morality, about heaven, about the evils, the vanity, and the defilement of lusts, and about the blessings of the abandonment of lusts. When the Blessed One saw that the mind of Bela//>5a Ka-fc^na was prepared, impressible, free from obstacles (to understanding the Truth), elated, and believing, then he preached what is the principal doctrine of the Buddhas, namely, Suffering, the Cause of suffering, the Cessation of suffering, the Path. Just as a clean cloth free from black specks properly takes the dye, thus Bela//^ Ka^/^na, even while sitting there, obtained the pure and spotless Eye of the Truth (that is, the knowledge) : * Whatsoever is subject to the condition of origination is subject also to the condition of cessation.'

9. And Bela//^ Kai^na, having seen the Truth, having mastered the Truth, having understood the Truth, having penetrated the Truth, having over- come uncertainty, having dispelled all doubts, having gained full knowledge, dependent on nobody else for the knowledge of the doctrine of the Teacher, said to the Blessed One : * Glorious, Lord ! glorious, Lord! Just as if one should set up, Lord, what had been overturned, or should reveal what had been hidden, or should point out the way to one who had lost his way, or should bring a lamp into the darkness, in order that those who had eyes might see visible things, thus has the Blessed One preached the doctrine in many ways. I take my refuge. Lord, in the Blessed One, and in the Dhamma, and in the fraternity of Bhikkhus; may


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166 'That Bhikkhu's Kathina privileges are suspended on the ground of the common suspension.'

End of the section entitled Asd-do/asaka.

10.

' A Bhikkhu, after the Ka/>^ina ceremony has been held, goes away on some business. And when he has got beyond the boundary, he conceives the expectation of getting a robe (presented). And he devotes himself to the realisation of his expectation, and he obtains, &c.^'

End of the Kara«lya-do/asaka ^

11.

I. 'A Bhikkhu, after the Ka/^ina ceremony has been held, goes away travelling to the (four) quarters (of the world*), guarding^ his claim to a share in the robes. When he is so travelling, the Bhikkhus ask him : " Where have you kept Vassa, friend, and where have you your share in the robes ?"

' He replies : " I have kept Vassa in such and such ' See chap. 8. i. The same three times four cases are specified here as in chap. S ; only the opening clauses of each case, which we have printed above, are different from those in chap. 8. ' * The twelve cases of (the Bhikkhu's going away on) business.'
 * Comp. II, 21, 1.
 * Apa>Hnayamana, comp. apa^iti, apa^Wta.


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112 * And again, &c. : " The Sama«a Gotama is con- fident^ ; he teaches the doctrine of confidence, &c/'

6. * And in which way is it, Siha, that one speak- ing truly could say of me : " The Sama»a Gotama denies action ; he teaches the doctrine of non-action; and in this doctrine he trains his disciples ?" I teach, Stha, the not-doing of such actions as are unright- eous, either by deed, or by word, or by thought ; I teach the not bringing about of the manifold condi- tions (of heart) which are evil and not good. In this way, Stha, one speaking truly could say of me : " The Sama«a Gotama, &c."

truly could say of me : " The Sama«a Gotama main- tains action ; he teaches the doctrine of action ; and in this doctrine he trains his disciples?" I teach, Slha, the doing of such actions as are righteous, by deed, by word, and by thought ; I teach the bring- ing about of the manifold conditions (of heart) which are good and not evil. In this way, &c."
 * And in which way is it, Slha, that one speaking

7. * And in which way is it, Stha, that one speak- ing truly could say of me : " The Sama«a Gotama maintains annihilation; he teaches the doctrine of annihilation ; and in this doctrine he trains his dis- ciples?" I proclaim, Stha, the annihilation of lust, of ill-will, of delusion ; I proclaim the annihilation of the manifold conditions (of heart) which are evil and not good. In this way, &c."

ing truly could say of me : *' The Sama«a Gotama
 * And in which way is it, Stha, that one speak-

quite another sense, with a pun that cannot be rendered in English ; see § 9. » See § 9.
 * irresolute ' and * irresolution/ But here the words are taken in

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95 VI, a6,8* ON MEDICAMENTS. 95

pots and jars, and filled their baskets and the folds of their dress with it.

6. And Bela//fet Ka^y^na, having let the people who ate the remains of (the Bhikkhus') food, eat their fill with sugar, said to the Blessed One : * The people. Lord, who eat the remains of (the Bhik- khus') food, have eaten their fill with sugar, but there is much sugar left over ; what shall I do with it. Lord?'

' I see no one, Ka>&>^na, in the world of men and gods, in Mdra's and Brahma's world, among all beings. Samaras and Br&hmawas, gods and men, by whom that sugar, when he has eaten it, can be fully assimilated, save ^y the Tathigata or by a disciple of the Tath&gata. Therefore, Kai^dna, throw that sugar away at a place free from grass, or sink it into water in which there are no living things.'

Bela//^a KaiJ>§ina accepted this order of the Blessed One (by saying), * Yes, Lord,^ and sunk that sugar into water in which there were no living things.

7. And that sugar, when thrown into the water, hissed and bubbled, and steamed, and sent forth smoke. As a ploughshare, which has been heated through the whole day and is thrown into water, hisses and bubbles, and steams, and sends forth smoke, so that sugar, when thrown into the water, hissed and bubbled, steamed, and sent forth smoke. And Bela//^a Kaiidna, terrified and having his hair erect with fear, went to the place where the Blessed One was ; having approached him and respectfully saluted the Blessed One, he sat down near him.

8. When Bela/Ma Ka^/^na was sitting near him,

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 very heart were cracking. All his boasted philosophy vanished—his artificial feelings fled him. Insulted Nature re-asserted her long spurned authority, and the once proud Vivian Grey felt too humble, even to curse himself. Gradually his sobs became less convulsed, and his brow more cool; and calm from very exhaustion, he sat for upwards of an hour motionless.

At this moment there issued, with their attendant, from an adjoining shrubbery, two beautiful children. They were so exceedingly lovely, that the passenger would have stopped to gaze upon them. The eldest, who yet was very young, was leading his sister hand in hand, with slow and graceful steps, mimicking the courtesy of men. But when his eye caught Vivian"s, the boy uttered a loud cry of exultation, and rushed, with the eagerness of infantine affection, to his gentle and favourite playmate. They were the young Clevelands.

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