Part 29 (1/2)
”Just as a sailor has a point of departure,” said Billy.
”Precisely,” said Sir Horace, pleased at being so well appreciated.
”You are aware, Doctor,” resumed he, after a pause, ”that the lad will have little or no private fortune. There are family circ.u.mstances that I cannot enter into, nor would your own delicacy require it, that will leave him almost dependent on his own efforts. Now, as time is rolling over, we should bethink us what direction it were wisest to give his talents; for he has talents.”
”He has genius and talents both,” said Billy; ”he has the raw material, and the workshop to manufacture it.”
”I am rejoiced to hear such an account from one so well able to p.r.o.nounce,” said Sir Horace, blandly; and Billy bowed, and blushed with a sense of happiness that none but humble men, so praised, could ever feel.
”I should like much to hear what you would advise for him,” said Upton.
”He's so full of promise,” said Billy, ”that whatever he takes to he 'll be sure to fancy he 'd be better at something else. See, now,--it isn 't a bull I 'm sayin', but I 'll make a blunder of it if I try to explain.”
”Go on; I think I apprehend you.”
”By coorse you do. Well, it's that same feelin' makes me cautious of sayin' what he ought to do. For, after all, a variety of capacity implies discursiveness, and discursiveness is the mother of failure.”
”You speak like an oracle, Doctor.”
”If I do, it's because the priest is beside me,” said Billy, howmg. ”My notion is this: I'd let him cultivate his fine gifts for a year or two in any way he liked,--in work or idleness; for they 'll grow in the fallow as well as in the tilled land. I 'd let him be whatever he liked,--striving always, as he's sure to be striving, after something higher, and greater, and better than he'll ever reach; and then, when he has felt both his strength and his weakness, I 'd try and attach him to some great man in public life; set a grand ambition before him, and say, 'Go on.'”
”He's scarcely the stuff for public life,” muttered Sir Horace.
”He is,” said Billy, boldly.
”He 'd be easily abashed,--easily deterred by failure.”
”Sorra bit. Success might cloy, but failure would never damp him.”
”I can't fancy him a speaker.”
”Rouse him by a strong theme and a flat contradiction, and you 'll see what he can do.”
”And then his lounging, idle habits--”
”He'll do more in two hours than any one else in two days.”
”You are a warm admirer, my dear Doctor,” said Sir Horace, smiling blandly. ”I should almost rather have such a friend than the qualities that win the friends.h.i.+p.--Have you a message for me, Antoine?” said he to a servant who stood at a little distance, waiting the order to approach. The man came forward, and whispered a few words. Sir Horace's cheek gave a faint, the very faintest possible, sign of flush as he listened, and uttering a brief ”Very well,” dismissed the messenger.
”Will you give me your arm, Doctor?” said he, languidly; and the elegant Sir Horace Upton pa.s.sed down the crowded promenade, leaning on his uncouth companion, without the slightest consciousness of the surprise and sarcasm around him. No man more thoroughly could appreciate conventionalities; he would weigh the effect of appearances to the veriest nicety; but in practice he seemed either to forget his knowledge or despise it. So that, as leaning on the little dwarf's arm he moved along, his very air of fas.h.i.+onable languor seemed to heighten the absurdity of the contrast. Nay, he actually seemed to bestow an almost deferential attention to what the other said, bowing blandly his acquiescence, and smiling with an urbanity all his own.
Of the crowd that pa.s.sed, nearly all knew the English Minister.
Uncovered heads were bent obsequiously; graceful salutations met him as he went; while a hundred conjectures ran as to who and what might be his companion.
He was a Mesmeric Professor, a Writer in Cipher, a Rabbi, an Egyptian Explorer, an Alchemist, an African Traveller, and, at last, Monsieur Thiers!--and so the fine world of Naples discussed the humble individual whom you and I, dear reader, are acquainted with as Billy Traynor.
CHAPTER XXIV. HOW A ”RECEPTION” COMES TO ITS CLOSE
On the evening of that day the handsome saloons of the great Hotel ”Universo” were filled with a brilliant a.s.semblage to compliment the Princess Sabloukoff on her arrival. We have already introduced this lady to the reader, and have no need to explain the homage and attention of which she was the object. There is nothing which so perfectly ill.u.s.trates the maxim of _ignotum pro magnifico_ as the career of politics; certain individuals obtaining, as they do, a pre-eminence and authority from a species of mysterious prestige about them, and a reputation of having access at any moment to the highest personage in the world of state affairs. Doubtless great ministers are occasionally not sorry to see the public full cry on a false scent, and encourage to a certain extent this mystification; but still it would be an error to deny to such persons as we speak of a knowledge, if not actually an influence, in great affairs.