"How terrible!" said Adriana. "It cannot be true."

"Perhaps he is the most determined," said Myra. "Moral courage is the rarest of qualities, and often maligned."

"Well, he has got a champion," said Mr. Neuchatel.

"I ardently wish him success," said Myra, "in all his undertakings. I only wish I knew what they were."

"Has not he told your brother, Miss Ferrars?" asked Mr. Neuchatel, with laughing eyes.

"He never speaks of himself to Endymion," said Myra.

"He speaks a good deal of himself to me," said Mr. Neuchatel; "and he is going to bring a friend here to-morrow who knows more about his affairs even than I do. So you will have a very good opportunity, Miss Ferrars, of making yourself acquainted with them, particularly if you sit next to him at dinner, and are very winning."

The friend of Colonel Albert was Baron Sergius, the baron who used to visit him in London at twilight in a dark brougham. Mrs. Neuchatel was greatly taken by his appearance, by the calmness of his mien, his unstudied politeness, and his measured voice. He conversed with her entirely at dinner on German philosophy, of which he seemed a complete master, explained to her the different schools, and probably the successful ones, and imparted to her that precise knowledge which she required on the subject, and which she had otherwise been unable to obtain. It seemed, too, that he personally knew all the famous professors, and he intimated their doctrines not only with profound criticism, but described their persons and habits with vividness and picturesque power, never, however, all this time, by any chance raising his voice, the tones of which were ever distinct and a little precise.

"Is this the first visit of your friend to this country?" asked Myra of Colonel Albert.

"Oh no; he has been here often--and everywhere," added Colonel Albert.

"Everywhere! he must be a most interesting companion then."

"I find him so: I never knew any one whom I thought equal to him. But perhaps I am not an impartial judge, for I have known him so long and so intimately. In fact, I had never been out of his sight till I was brought over to this country to be placed at Eton. He is the counsellor of our family, and we all of us have ever agreed that if his advice had been always followed we should never have had a calamity."

"Indeed, a gifted person! Is he a soldier?"

"No; Baron Sergius has not followed the profession of arms."

"He looks a diplomatist."

"Well, he is now nothing but my friend," said the colonel. "He might have been anything, but he is a peculiarly domestic character, and is devoted to private life."

"You are fortunate in such a friend."

"Well, I am glad to be fortunate in something," said Colonel Albert.

"And are you not fortunate in everything?"

"I have not that reputation; but I shall be more than fortunate if I have your kind wishes."

"Those you have," said Myra, rather eagerly. "My brother taught me, even as a child, to wish nothing but good for you. I wish I knew only what I was to wish for."

"Wish that my plans may succeed," said Colonel Albert, looking round to her with interest.

"I will more than wish," said Myra; "I will believe that they will succeed, because I think you have resolved to succeed."

"I shall tell Endymion when I see him," said Colonel Albert, "that his sister is the only person who has read my character."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

Colonel Albert and Baron Sergius drove up in their landau from Hainault while Endymion was at the door in Warwick Street, returning home. The colonel saluted him cordially, and said, "The baron is going to take a cup of coffee with me; join us." So they went upstairs. There was a packet on the table, which seemed to catch the colonel's eye immediately, and he at once opened it with eagerness. It contained many foreign newspapers. Without waiting for the servant who was about to bring candles, the colonel lighted a taper on the table with a lucifer, and then withdrew into the adjoining chamber, opening, however, with folding doors to the princ.i.p.al and s.p.a.cious apartment.

"A foreign newspaper always interests our friend," said the baron, taking his coffee.

"Well, it must always be interesting to have news from home, I suppose,"

said Endymion.

"Home!" said the baron. "News is always interesting, whether it come from home or not."

"To public men," said Endymion.

"To all men if they be wise," said the baron; "as a general rule, the most successful man in life is the man who has the best information."

"But what a rare thing is success in life!" said Endymion. "I often wonder whether I shall ever be able to step out of the crowd."

"You may have success in life without stepping out of the crowd," said the baron.

"A sort of success," said Endymion; "I know what you mean. But what I mean is real success in life. I mean, I should like to be a public man."

"Why?" asked the baron.

"Well, I should like to have power," said Endymion, blushing.

"The most powerful men are not public men," said the baron. "A public man is responsible, and a responsible man is a slave. It is private life that governs the world. You will find this out some day. The world talks much of powerful sovereigns and great ministers; and if being talked about made one powerful, they would be irresistible. But the fact is, the more you are talked about the less powerful you are."

"But surely King Luitbrand is a powerful monarch; they say he is the wisest of men. And the Emperor Harold, who has succeeded in everything.

And as for ministers, who is a great man if it be not Prince Wenceslaus?"

"King Luitbrand is governed by his doctor, who is capable of governing Europe, but has no ambition that way; the Emperor Harold is directed by his mistress, who is a woman of a certain age with a vast sagacity, but who also believes in sorcery; and as for Prince Wenceslaus, he is inspired by an individual as obscure as ourselves, and who, for aught I know, may be, at this moment, like ourselves, drinking a cup of coffee in a hired lodging."

"What you say about public life amazes me," said Endymion musingly.

"Think over it," said the baron. "As an Englishman, you will have difficulty in avoiding public life. But at any rate do not at present be discontented that you are unknown. It is the first condition of real power. When you have succeeded in life according to your views, and I am inclined to believe you will so succeed, you will, some day, sigh for real power, and denounce the time when you became a public man, and belonged to any one but yourself. But our friend calls me. He has found something startling. I will venture to say, if there be anything in it, it has been brought about by some individual of whom you never heard."

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

With the a.s.sembling of parliament in November recommenced the sittings of the Union Society, of which Endymion had for some time been a member, and of whose meetings he was a constant and critical, though silent, attendant. There was a debate one night on the government of dependencies, which, although all reference to existing political circ.u.mstances was rigidly prohibited, no doubt had its origin in the critical state of one of our most important colonies, then much embarra.s.sing the metropolis. The subject was one which Endymion had considered, and on which he had arrived at certain conclusions. The meeting was fully attended, and the debate had been conducted with a gravity becoming the theme. Endymion was sitting on a back bench, and with no companion near him with whom he was acquainted, when he rose and solicited the attention of the president. Another and a well-known speaker had also risen, and been called, but there was a cry of "new member," a courteous cry, borrowed from the House of Commons, and Endymion for the first time heard his own voice in public. He has since admitted, though he has been through many trying scenes, that it was the most nervous moment of his life. "After Calais," as a wise wit said, "nothing surprises;" and the first time a man speaks in public, even if only at a debating society, is also the unequalled incident in its way.

The indulgence of the audience supported him while the mist cleared from his vision, and his palpitating heart subsided into comparative tranquillity. After a few pardonable incoherencies, he was launched into his subject, and spoke with the thoughtful fluency which knowledge alone can sustain. For knowledge is the foundation of eloquence.

"What a good-looking young fellow!" whispered Mr. Bertie Tremaine to his brother Mr. Tremaine Bertie. The Bertie Tremaines were the two greatest swells of the Union, and had a party of their own. "And he speaks well."

"Who is he?" inquired Mr. Tremaine Bertie of their other neighbour.

"He is a clerk in the Treasury, I believe, or something of that sort,"

was the reply.