Part 51 (1/2)

'Are you going to Shrops.h.i.+re's this autumn, Charley?' said Lord Catchimwhocan.

'Yes, I shall go.'

'I don't think I shall,' said his lords.h.i.+p; 'it is such a bore.'

'It is rather a bore; but he is a good fellow.'

'I shall go,' said Count Mirabel.

'You are not afraid of being bored,' said Ferdinand, smiling.

'Between ourselves, I do not understand what this being bored is,' said the Count. 'He who is bored appears to me a bore. To be bored supposes the inability of being amused; you must be a dull fellow. Wherever I may be, I thank heaven that I am always diverted.'

'But you have such nerves, Mirabel,' said Lord Catchimwhocan. 'By Jove!

I envy you. You are never floored.'

'Floored! what an idea! What should floor me? I live to amuse myself, and I do nothing that does not amuse me. Why should I be floored?'

'Why, I do not know; but every other man is floored now and then. As for me, my spirits are sometimes something dreadful.'

'When you have been losing.'

'Well, we cannot always win. Can we, Sharpe? That would not do. But, by Jove! you are always in good humour, Mirabel, when you lose.'

'Fancy a man ever being in low spirits,' said the Count Mirabel. 'Life is too short for such _betises_. The most unfortunate wretch alive calculates unconsciously that it is better to live than to die. Well, then, he has something in his favour. Existence is a pleasure, and the greatest. The world cannot rob us of that; and if it is better to live than to die, it is better to live in a good humour than a bad one. If a man be convinced that existence is the greatest pleasure, his happiness may be increased by good fortune, but it will be essentially independent of it. He who feels that the greatest source of pleasure always remains to him ought never to be miserable. The sun s.h.i.+nes on all: every man can go to sleep: if you cannot ride a fine horse, it is something to look upon one; if you have not a fine dinner, there is some amus.e.m.e.nt in a crust of bread and Gruyere. Feel slightly, think little, never plan, never brood. Everything depends upon the circulation; take care of it.

Take the world as you find it; enjoy everything. _Vive la bagatelle!_'

Here the gentlemen rose, took their coffee, and ordered their carriages.

'Come with us,' said Count Mirabel to Ferdinand.

Our hero accepted the offer of his agreeable acquaintance. There was a great prancing and rus.h.i.+ng of cabs and _vis-a-vis_ at Mr. Bond Sharpe's door, and in a few minutes the whole party were das.h.i.+ng up St. James'-street, where they stopped before a splendid building, resplendent with lights and illuminated curtains.

'Come, we will make you an honorary member, _mon cher_ Captain Armine,'

said the Count; 'and do not say _Lasciate ogni speranza_ when you enter here.'

They ascended a magnificent staircase, and entered a sumptuous and crowded saloon, in which the entrance of Count Mirabel and his friends made no little sensation. Mr. Bond Sharpe glided along, dropping oracular sentences, without condescending to stop to speak to those whom he addressed. Charley Doricourt and Mr. Blandford walked away together, towards a further apartment. Lord Castlefyshe and Lord Catchimwhocan were soon busied with ecarte.

'Well, Faneville, good general, how do you do?' said Count Mirabel.

'Where have you dined to-day? at the Balcombes'? You are a very brave man, mon general! Ah! Stock, good Stock, excellent Stock!' he continued, addressing Mr. Million de Stockville, 'that Burgundy you sent me is capital. How are you, my dear fellow? Quite well? Fitzwarrene, I did that for you: your business is all right. Ah! my good Ma.s.sey, _mon cher, mon brave_, Anderson will let you have that horse. And what is doing here? Is there any fun? Fitzwarrene, let me introduce you to my friend Captain Armine:' (in a lower tone) 'excellent _garcon!_ You will like him very much. We have been all dining at Bond's.'

'A good dinner?'

'Of course a good dinner. I should like to see a man who would give me a bad dinner: that would be a _betise_,--to ask me to dine, and then give me a bad dinner.'

'I say, Mirabel,' exclaimed a young man, 'have you seen Horace Poppington about the match?'

'It is arranged; 'tis the day after to-morrow, at nine o'clock.'