The club acquaintance was in Parliament, and looked at the matter from a strictly12 parliamentary point of view. “Yes, indeed. It has given a deal of trouble.”
Mr Maule was not parliamentary, and did not understand. “Why trouble — except to himself? He’ll leave his Garter and strawberry-leaves, and all his acres behind him.”
“What is Gresham to do about the Exchequer13 when he comes in? I don’t know whom he’s to send there. They talk of Bonteen, but Bonteen hasn’t half weight enough. They’ll offer it to Monk14, but Monk’ll never take office again.”
“Ah, yes. Planty Pall15 was Chancellor16 of the Exchequer. I suppose he must give that up now?”
The parliamentary acquaintance looked up at the unparliamentary man with that mingled17 disgust and pity which parliamentary gentlemen and ladies always entertain for those who have not devoted18 their minds to the constitutional forms of the country. “The Chancellor of the Exchequer can’t very well sit in the House of Lords, and Palliser can’t very well help becoming Duke of Omnium. I don’t know whether he can take the decimal coinage question with him, but I fear not. They don’t like it at all in the city.”
“I believe I’ll go and play a rubber of whist,” said Mr Maule. He played his whist, and lost thirty points without showing the slightest displeasure, either by the tone of his voice or by any grimace19 of his countenance20. And yet the money which passed from his hands was material to him. But he was great at such efforts as these, and he understood well the fluctuations21 of the whist table. The half-crowns which he had paid were only so much invested capital.
He dined at his club this evening, and joined tables with another acquaintance who was not parliamentary. Mr Parkinson Seymour was a man much of his own stamp, who cared not one straw as to any difficulty which the Prime Minister might feel in filling the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer. There were men by dozens ready and willing, and no doubt able — or at any rate, one as able as the other — to manage the taxes of the country. But the blue riband and the Lord Lieutenancy22 of Barsetshire were important things — which would now be in the gift of Mr Daubeny; and Lady Glencora would at last be a duchess — with much effect on Society, either good or bad. And Planty Pall would be a duke, with very much less capability23, as Mr Parkinson Seymour thought, for filling that great office, than that which the man had displayed who was now supposed to be dying at Matching. “He has been a fine old fellow,” said Mr Parkinson Seymour.
“Very much so. There ain’t many of that stamp left.”
“I don’t know one,” continued the gentleman, with enthusiasm. “They all go in for something now, just as Jones goes in for being a bank clerk. They are politicians, or gamblers, or, by heaven, tradesmen, as some of them are. The Earl of Tydvil and Lord Merthyr are in partnership24 together working their own mines — by the Lord, with a regular deed of partnership, just like two cheesemongers. The Marquis of Maltanops has a share in a bitter beer house at Burton. And the Duke of Discount, who married old Ballance’s daughter, and is brother-in-law to young George Advance, retains his interest in the house in Lombard Street. I know it for a fact.”
“Old Omnium was above that kind of thing,” said Mr Maule.
“Lord bless you — quite another sort of man. There is nothing left like it now. With a princely income I don’t suppose he ever put by a shilling in his life. I’ve heard it said that he couldn’t afford to marry, living in the manner in which he chose to live. And he understood what dignity meant. None of them understand that now. Dukes are as common as dogs in the streets, and a marquis thinks no more of himself than a market-gardener. I’m very sorry the old duke should go. The nephew may be very good at figures, but he isn’t fit to fill his uncle’s shoes. As for Lady Glencora, no doubt as things go now she’s very popular, but she’s more like a dairy-maid than a duchess to my way of thinking.”
There was not a club in London, and hardly a drawing-room in which something was not said that day in consequence of the two bulletins which had appeared as to the condition of the old Duke — and in no club and in no drawing-room was a verdict given against the dying man. It was acknowledged everywhere that he had played his part in a noble and even in a princely manner, that he had used with a becoming grace the rich things that had been given him, and that he had deserved well of his country. And yet, perhaps, no man who had lived during the same period, or any portion of the period, had done less, or had devoted himself more entirely25 to the consumption of good things without the slightest idea of producing anything in return! But he had looked like a duke, and known how to set a high price on his own presence.
To Mr Maule the threatened demise26 of this great man was not without a peculiar27 interest. His acquaintance with Madame Goesler had not been of long standing28, nor even as yet had it reached a close intimacy29. During the last London season he had been introduced to her, and had dined twice at her house. He endeavoured to make himself agreeable to her, and he flattered himself that he had succeeded. It may be said of him generally, that he had the gift of making himself pleasant to women. When last she had parted from him with a smile, repeating the last few words of some good story which he had told her, the idea struck him that she after all might perhaps be the woman. He made his inquiries30, and had learned that there was not a shadow of a doubt as to her wealth — or even to her power of disposing of that wealth as she pleased. So he wrote to her a pretty little note, in which he gave to her the history of that good story, how it originated with a certain Cardinal31, and might be found in certain memoirs32 — which did not, however, bear the best reputation in the world. Madame Goesler answered his note very graciously, thanking him for the reference, but declaring that the information given was already so sufficient that she need prosecute33 the inquiry34 no further. Mr Maule smiled as he declared to himself that those memoirs would certainly be in Madame Goesler’s hands before many days were over. Had his intimacy been a little more advanced he would have sent the volume to her.
But he also learned that there was some romance in the lady’s life which connected her with the Duke of Omnium. He was diligent35 in seeking information, and became assured that there could be no chance for himself, or for any man, as long as the Duke was alive. Some hinted that there had been a private marriage — a marriage, however, which Madame Goesler had bound herself by solemn oaths never to disclose. Others surmised36 that she was the Duke’s daughter. Hints were, of course, thrown out as to a connection of another kind — but with no great vigour37, as it was admitted on all hands that Lady Glencora, the Duke’s niece by marriage, and the mother of the Duke’s future heir, was Madame Goesler’s great friend. That there was a mystery was a fact very gratifying to the world at large; and perhaps, upon the whole, the more gratifying in that nothing had occurred to throw a gleam of light upon the matter since the fact of the intimacy had become generally known. Mr Maule was aware, however, that there could be no success for him as long as the Duke lived. Whatever might be the nature of the alliance, it was too strong to admit of any other while it lasted. But the Duke was a very old — or, at least, a very infirm man. And now the Duke was dying. Of course it was only a chance. Mr Maule knew the world too well to lay out any great portion of his hopes on a prospect38 so doubtful. But it was worth a struggle, and he would so struggle that he might enjoy success, should success come, without laying himself open to the pangs39 of disappointment. Mr Maule hated to be unhappy or uncomfortable, and therefore never allowed any aspiration40 to proceed to such length as to be inconvenient41 to his feelings should it not be gratified.
In the meantime Madame Max Goesler had been sent for, and had hurried off to Matching almost without a moment’s preparation. As she sat in the train, thinking of it, tears absolutely filled her eyes. “Poor dear old man,” she said to herself; and yet the poor dear old man had simply been a trouble to her, adding a most disagreeable task to her life, and one which she was not called on to perform by any sense of duty. “How is he?” she said anxiously, when she met Lady Glencora in the hall at Matching. The two women kissed each other as though they had been almost sisters since their birth. “He is a little better now, but he was very uneasy when we telegraphed this morning. He asked for you twice, and then we thought it better to send.”
“Oh, of course it was best,” said Madame Goesler.
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1
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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2
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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4
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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5
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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7
blandest
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| adj.（食物）淡而无味的( bland的最高级 )；平和的；温和的；无动于衷的 | |
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8
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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10
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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11
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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13
exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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14
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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15
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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16
chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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17
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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18
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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fluctuations
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| 波动，涨落，起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
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22
lieutenancy
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| n.中尉之职，代理官员 | |
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23
capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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29
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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34
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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diligent
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| adj.勤勉的，勤奋的 | |
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36
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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41
inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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