Part 3 (1/2)
”One never has enough! You women don't understand. As long as you have all the amus.e.m.e.nt you crave, all the frocks you want, all the jewelry you covet, you think that is all there is to life.”
She looked up at him reproachfully and seemed about to protest when he added hurriedly:
”Oh, I don't mean you. I know you are not that kind of woman. You are more serious, more sensible. I mean the average society woman whose only concern in life is dress and show. We men have different aims, higher ambitions. I'm well to do, as the term goes. I have an income of over $100,000 a year, a splendidly appointed town house, a show place in the country. Above all I have the most adorable wife in all the world. Most men would be satisfied. I am not. I want still more.
I have the money craze, an uncontrollable l.u.s.t to pile up millions. My ambition is to wield the power that only the possession of vast wealth confers. The resources of this vast country are practically in the hands of half a dozen men. Merely by holding up a finger, these men could, to suit their own selfish ends, start a universal panic which might bring about a financial cataclysm, involving the whole world in disaster. I do not say they would use this power for evil, but they are in position to do so if it served their purpose. I want to have such power, only if I had it I would not use it for evil. I would use it for good. Conditions in the industrial world are very critical. We are rapidly approaching a crisis. In all countries the forces of labor and the forces of capital are lined up in silent, grim battalions. The poor are getting poorer; the rich are getting richer. The cost of living is going up beyond all reason. Why? Because the men who control the wealth of the world will it so. The system which is responsible for this must one day, sooner or later, give way to another and more humane system, still to be devised, which will enable the man who produces the wealth of the world at least to enjoy some of the fruits of his toil. Now it goes into the hands of the privileged few who use the power their money gives them to keep their less fortunate fellow men in servile subjection. I want to be rich, very rich, but I will use my wealth for good. With it I will help my fellow man rise from the mire. I will help him throw off the shackles with which conscienceless capitalism has fettered him. I want to be such a power for good. I want----”
The maid reentered the room.
”Francois is not in his room, m'm.”
Kenneth gave vent to an exclamation of impatience. Turning to his wife, he asked:
”Where is he? Did you send him anywhere?”
Helen shook her head. Quickly she said:
”He's never around except when he's not wanted.”
It was so seldom that his wife displayed irritation at any one that Kenneth looked up in surprise.
”He's shopping, too, I suppose. You know there's little time left and he has things to get ready the same as I have.”
Helen made a gesture of disapproval. Quickly she said:
”I wish you were going with someone else, with anyone but that man. I never liked him.”
Her husband laughed. Carelessly he replied:
”I know you never did and it's the only instance since we're married where I've found dear little wife to be absolutely unfair. Seriously, sweetheart, your baseless prejudice against Francois is unworthy of you. I can't go without a servant of some kind. He's an honest fellow and a faithful servant.”
Helen shrugged her shoulders.
”I'm not so sure about that,” she retorted quickly. ”What do you know about him or his honesty? He's a perfect stranger that blew in three months ago from nowhere. He had written recommendations which may be forged. You never took the trouble to look them up.”
”Yes, I did. I asked Keralio about him.”
Helen looked up in surprise.
”Signor Keralio? I didn't know Francois was ever with him.”
”He was with him nearly a year. Keralio warmly recommends him and says he is a very faithful fellow. He only left him because he objected to being compelled to practise sword-play with his master. One day Keralio's foil slipped. Francois got a puncture and it made him nervous.”
”No wonder I don't like him. Like master, like valet--as the French say.”
Her husband smiled.
”You are down on Keralio, aren't you?”
”I detest him. How could any self-respecting woman like such a man?
His every glance is an insult. With his polished manners and sardonic smile he reminds one of Mephistopheles.”
”I don't fancy the fellow much myself, but I have to be polite to him.