Part 43 (1/2)
”Jost!” echoed Sergius; ”The Colossus of the Press? Surely it would take more than one man to frighten him!”
Leroy laughed.
”I grant you the Jewish centres of journalism are difficult to shake!
But they all depend on stocks and shares!”
A touch on his arm caused him to turn round,--Paul Zouche confronted both him and Thord, with a solemn worn face, and lack-l.u.s.tre eyes.
”Good-night, friends!” he said; ”I have not kicked at a king with my boot, but I have with my brain!--and the effort is exhausting! I am going home to bed.”
”Where is your home?” asked Leroy suddenly.
Zouche looked mysterious.
”In a palace, dear sir! A palace of golden air, peopled with winged dreams! No money could purchase it;--no 'Empire Builder' could build it!--it is mine and mine alone! And I pay no taxes!”
”Will you put this to some use for me?” said Leroy, holding out a gold piece; ”Simply as comrade and friend?”
Zouche stared at him.
”You mean it?”
”Of course I mean it! Zouche, believe me, you are going to be the fas.h.i.+on! You will be able to do _me_ a good turn before long!”
Zouche took the gold piece, and as he took it, pressed the giver's hand.
”You mean well!” he said tremulously; ”You know--as Sergius does, that I am poor,--often starving--often drunk--but you know also that there is something _here_!”--and he touched his forehead meaningly. ”But to be the 'fas.h.i.+on'! Bah! I do not belong to the Trade-ocracy! n.o.body becomes the 'fas.h.i.+on' nowadays unless they have cheated their neighbours by short weight and falsified accounts! Good-night! You might be the King from your looks;--but you have something better than kings.h.i.+p--Heart!
Good-night, Pequita! You danced well! Good-night, Lotys! You spoke well!
Everyone does everything well, except poor Zouche!”
Pequita ran up to him.
”Good-night, dear Paul!”
He stooped and kissed her gently.
”Good-night, little one! If ever you show your twinkling feet at the Opera, _you_ will be the 'fas.h.i.+on'--and will you remember Paul then?”
”Always--always!” said Pequita tenderly; ”Father and Lotys and I will always love you!”
Zouche gave a short laugh.
”Always love me! Me! Well!--what strange things children will say, not knowing in the least what they mean!”
He gave a vague salute to the entire company, and walked out of the tavern with drooping head. Others followed him,--every man in going, shook hands with Lotys and Sergius Thord,--the lamps were extinguished, and the landlord standing in the porch of his tavern watched them all file out, and bade them all a cordial farewell. Pequita's home was with her father in the house where Sergius Thord dwelt, and Lotys kissing her tenderly good-night, left her to Thord's care.
”And who will see you home, Lotys?” enquired Thord.