Part 47 (2/2)
”I have no health for pleasant people, my dear Harcourt; like horse exercise, they only agree with you when you are strong enough not to require them.”
”Then what have you got?” asked the Colonel, somewhat abashed.
”Princes, generals, envoys, and heads of departments.”
”Good heavens! legions of honor and golden fleeces!”
”Just so,” said Upton, smiling at the dismay in the other's countenance; ”I have had such a party as you describe to-day. Are they gone yet, Franchetti?”
”They're at coffee, your Excellency, but the Prince has ordered his carriage.”
”And you did not go near them?” asked Harcourt, in amazement.
”No; I was poorly, as you see me,” said Upton, smiling. ”Pipo tells me, however, that the dinner was a good one, and I am sure they pardon my absence.”
”Foreign ease, I've no doubt; though I can't say I like it,” muttered Harcourt. ”At all events, it is not for _me_ to complain, since the accident has given me the pleasure of your society.”
”You are about the only man I could have admitted,” said Upton, with a certain graciousness of look and manner that, perhaps, detracted a little from its sincerity.
Fortunately, not so to Harcourt's eyes, for he accepted the speech in all honesty and good faith, as he said, ”Thank you heartily, my boy. The welcome is better even than the dinner, and that is saying a good deal.
No more wine, thank you; I 'm going to have a cigar, and, with your leave, I 'll ask for some brandy and water.”
This was addressed to Franchetti, who speedily reappeared with a liqueur stand and an ebony cigar-case.
”Try these, George; they 're better than your own,” said Upton, dryly.
”That I will,” cried Harcourt, laughing; ”I'm determined to draw all my resources from the country in occupation, especially as they are superior to what I can obtain from home. This same career of yours, Upton, strikes me as rather a good thing. You have all these things duty free?”
”Yes, we have that privilege,” said Upton, sighing.
”And the privilege of drawing some few thousand pounds per annum, paid messengers to and from England, secret-service money, and the rest of it, eh?”
Upton smiled, and sighed again.
”And what do you do for all that,--I mean, what are you expected to do?”
”Keep your party in when they are in; disconcert the enemy when your friends are out.”
”And is that always a safe game?” asked Harcourt, eagerly.
”Not when played by unskilful players, my dear George. They occasionally make sad work, and get bowled out themselves for their pains; but there's no great harm in that neither.”
”How do you mean there 's no harm in it?”
”Simply, that if a man can't keep his saddle, he ought n't to try to ride foremost; but these speculations will only puzzle you, my dear Harcourt. What of Glencore? You said awhile ago that the town was talking of him--how and wherefore was it?”
”Haven't you heard the story, then?”
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