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am I saying？I mean my Lord Marquis de Valentinis in the possession
of a secret for obtaining wealth。 His wishes are fulfilled as soon as
he knows them。 He will make us all rich together； or he is a flunkey；
and devoid of all decent feeling。〃
〃Oh； Raphael dear； I should like a set of pearl ornaments！〃 Euphrasia
exclaimed。
〃If he has any gratitude in him； he will give me a couple of carriages
with fast steppers；〃 said Aquilina。
〃Wish for a hundred thousand a year for me！〃
〃Indian shawls！〃
〃Pay my debts！〃
〃Send an apoplexy to my uncle； the old stick！〃
〃Ten thousand a year in the funds； and I'll cry quits with you；
Raphael！〃
〃Deeds of gift and no mistake；〃 was the notary's comment。
〃He ought； at least； to rid me of the gout！〃
〃Lower the funds！〃 shouted the banker。
These phrases flew about like the last discharge of rockets at the end
of a display of fireworks； and were uttered； perhaps； more in earnest
than in jest。
〃My good friend；〃 Emile said solemnly； 〃I shall be quite satisfied
with an income of two hundred thousand livres。 Please to set about it
at once。〃
〃Do you not know the cost； Emile？〃 asked Raphael。
〃A nice excuse！〃 the poet cried； 〃ought we not to sacrifice ourselves
for our friends？〃
〃I have almost a mind to wish that you all were dead；〃 Valentin made
answer； with a dark； inscrutable look at his boon companions。
〃Dying people are frightfully cruel；〃 said Emile； laughing。 〃You are
rich now；〃 he went on gravely； 〃very well； I will give you two months
at most before you grow vilely selfish。 You are so dense already that
you cannot understand a joke。 You have only to go a little further to
believe in your Magic Skin。〃
Raphael kept silent； fearing the banter of the company； but he drank
immoderately； trying to drown in intoxication the recollection of his
fatal power。
III
THE AGONY
In the early days of December an old man of some seventy years of age
pursued his way along the Rue de Varenne； in spite of the falling
rain。 He peered up at the door of each house； trying to discover the
address of the Marquis Raphael de Valentin； in a simple； childlike
fashion； and with the abstracted look peculiar to philosophers。 His
face plainly showed traces of a struggle between a heavy mortification
and an authoritative nature； his long； gray hair hung in disorder
about a face like a piece of parchment shriveling in the fire。 If a
painter had come upon this curious character； he would； no doubt； have
transferred him to his sketchbook on his return； a thin； bony figure；
clad in black； and have inscribed beneath it： 〃Classical poet in
search of a rhyme。〃 When he had identified the number that had been
given to him； this reincarnation of Rollin knocked meekly at the door
of a splendid mansion。
〃Is Monsieur Raphael in？〃 the worthy man inquired of the Swiss in
livery。
〃My Lord the Marquis sees nobody；〃 said the servant； swallowing a huge
morsel that he had just dipped in a large bowl of coffee。
〃There is his carriage；〃 said the elderly stranger； pointing to a fine
equipage that stood under the wooden canopy that sheltered the steps
before the house； in place of a striped linen awning。 〃He is going
out； I will wait for him。〃
〃Then you might wait here till to…morrow morning； old boy；〃 said the
Swiss。 〃A carriage is always waiting for monsieur。 Please to go away。
If I were to let any stranger come into the house without orders； I
should lose an income of six hundred francs。〃
A tall old man； in a costume not unlike that of a subordinate in the
Civil Service； came out of the vestibule and hurried part of the way
down the steps； while he made a survey of the astonished elderly
applicant for admission。
〃What is more； here is M。 Jonathan；〃 the Swiss remarked； 〃speak to
him。〃
Fellow…feeling of some kind； or curiosity； brought the two old men
together in a central space in the great entrance…court。 A few blades
of grass were growing in the crevices of the pavement； a terrible
silence reigned in that great house。 The sight of Jonathan's face
would have made you long to understand the mystery that brooded over
it； and that was announced by the smallest trifles about the
melancholy place。
When Raphael inherited his uncle's vast estate； his first care had
been to seek out the old and devoted servitor of whose affection he
knew that he was secure。 Jonathan had wept tears of joy at the sight
of his young master； of whom he thought he had taken a final farewell；
and when the marquis exalted him to the high office of steward； his
happiness could not be surpassed。 So old Jonathan became an
intermediary power between Raphael and the world at large。 He was the
absolute disposer of his master's fortune； the blind instrument of an
unknown will； and a sixth sense； as it were； by which the emotions of
life were communicated to Raphael。
〃I should like to speak with M。 Raphael； sir；〃 said the elderly person
to Jonathan； as he climbed up the steps some way； into a shelter from
the rain。
〃To speak with my Lord the Marquis？〃 the steward cried。 〃He scarcely
speaks even to me； his foster…father！〃
〃But I am likewise his foster…father；〃 said the old man。 〃If your wife
was his foster…mother； I fed him myself with the milk of the Muses。 He
is my nursling； my child； carus alumnus！ I formed his mind； cultivated
his understanding； developed his genius； and； I venture to say it； to
my own honor and glory。 Is he not one of the most remarkable men of
our epoch？ He was one of my pupils in two lower forms； and in
rhetoric。 I am his professor。〃
〃Ah； sir； then you are M。 Porriquet？〃
〃Exactly； sir； but〃
〃Hush！ hush！〃 Jonathan called to two underlings； whose voices broke
the monastic silence that shrouded the house。
〃But is the Marquis ill； sir？〃 the professor continued。
〃My dear sir；〃 Jonathan replied； 〃Heaven only knows what is the matter
with my master。 You see； there are not a couple of houses like ours
anywhere in Paris。 Do you understand？ Not two houses。 Faith； that
there are not。 My Lord the Marquis had this hotel purchased for him；
it formerly belonged to a duke and a peer of France； then he spent
three hundred thousand francs over furnishing it。 That's a good deal；
you know； three hundred thousand francs！ But every room in the house
is a perfect wonder。 'Good；' said I to myself when I saw this
magnificence； 'it is just like it used to be in the time of my lord；
his late grandfather； and the young marquis is going to entertain all
Paris and the Court！' Nothing of the kind！ My lord refused to see any
one whatever。 'Tis a funny life that he leads； M。 Porriquet； you
understand。 An inconciliable life。 He rises every day at the same
time。 I am the only person； you see； that may enter his room。 I open
all the shutters at seven o'clock； summer or winter。 It is all
arranged very oddly。 As I co