The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Volume 01Smollett, T. (Tobias)
General
The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Volume 01
Smollett, T. (Tobias)
Adventure stories; Gothic fiction
Here, thinking himself safely delivered from the cause of all his
apprehension, he determined to lie incognito for a few days, so as that
he might run no risk of an accidental meeting upon the road with the
person whose company he had forsaken; and accordingly took possession of
an apartment, in which he went to rest, desiring his guide to wake him
when dinner should be ready. Having enjoyed a very comfortable
refreshment of sleep, with his bags under his pillow, he was summoned,
according to his direction, and ate a very hearty meal, with great
tranquillity and internal satisfaction. In the afternoon he amused
himself with happy presages and ideal prospects of his future fortune,
and, in the midst of these imaginary banquets, was seized with an
inclination of realising his bliss, and regaling his eyesight with the
fruits of that success which had hitherto attended his endeavours. Thus
inflamed, he opened the repository, and, O reader! what were his
reflections, when, in lieu of Mademoiselle Melvil's ear-rings and
necklace, the German's golden chain, divers jewels of considerable value,
the spoils of sundry dupes, and about two hundred ducats in ready money,
he found neither more nor less than a parcel of rusty nails, disposed in
such a manner as to resemble in weight and bulk the moveables he had
lost.
It is not to be supposed our adventurer made this discovery without
emotion. If the eternal salvation of mankind could have been purchased
for the tenth part of his treasure, he would have left the whole species
in a state of reprobation, rather than redeem them at that price, unless
he had seen in the bargain some evident advantage to his own concerns.
One may, therefore, easily conceive with what milkiness of resignation he
bore the loss of the whole, and saw himself reduced from such affluence
to the necessity of depending upon about twenty ducats, and some loose
silver, which he carried in his pocket, for his expense upon the road.
However bitter this pill might be in swallowing, he so far mastered his
mortification, as to digest it with a good grace. His own penetration at
once pointed out the canal through which this misfortune had flowed upon
him; he forthwith placed the calamity to the account of the Tyrolese, and
never doubting that he had retired with the booty across the Rhine, into
some place to which he knew Fathom would not follow his footsteps, he
formed the melancholy resolution of pursuing with all despatch his
journey to Paris, that he might, with all convenient expedition,
indemnify himself for the discomfiture he had sustained.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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