Produced by John Bickers; Dagny ENDYMION by Benjamin Disraeli, Earl Of Beaconsfield, K.G. First Published 1880 CHAPTER I It was a rich, warm night, at the beginning of August, when a gentleman enveloped in a cloak, for he was in evening dress, emerged from a club-house at the top of St. James’ Street, and descended that celebrated eminence. He had not proceeded more than half way down the street when, encountering a friend, he stopped with some abruptness. “I have been looking for you everywhere,” he said. “What is it?” “We can hardly talk about it here.” “Shall we go to White’s?” “I have just left it, and, between ourselves, I would rather we should be more alone. ‘Tis as warm as noon. Let us cross the street and get into St. James’ Place. That is always my idea of solitude.” So they crossed the street, and, at the corner of St. James’ Place, met several gentlemen who had just come out of Brookes’ Club-house. These saluted the companions as they passed, and said, “Capital account from Chiswick--Lord Howard says the chief will be in Downing Street on Monday.” “It is of Chiswick that I am going to speak to you,” said the gentleman in the cloak, putting his arm in that of his companion as they walked on. “What I am about to tell you is known only to three persons, and is the most sacred of secrets. Nothing but our friendship could authorise me to impart it to you.” “I hope it is something to your advantage,” said his companion. “Nothing of that sort; it is of yourself that I am thinking. Since our political estrangement, I have never had a contented moment. From Christ Church, until that unhappy paralytic stroke, which broke up a government that had lasted fifteen years, and might have continued fifteen more, we seemed always to have been working together. That we should again unite is my dearest wish. A crisis is at hand. I want you to use it to your advantage. Know then, that what they were just saying about Chiswick is moonshine. His case is hopeless, and it has been communicated to the King.” “Hopeless!” “Rely upon it; it came direct from the Cottage to my friend.” “I thought he had a mission?” said his companion, with emotion; “and men with missions do not disappear till they have fulfilled them.” “But why did you think so? How often have I asked you for your grounds for such a conviction! There are none. The man of the age is clearly the Duke, the saviour of Europe, in the perfection of manhood, and with an iron constitution.” “The salvation of Europe is the affair of a past generation,” said his companion. “We want something else now. The salvation of England should be the subject rather of our present thoughts.” “England! why when were things more sound? Except the split among our own men, which will be now cured, there is not a cause of disquietude.” “I have much,” said his friend.