The Adventures of Harry Richmond — Volume 4Meredith, George
General
The Adventures of Harry Richmond — Volume 4
Meredith, George
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction
'In cool blood you utter that?' exclaimed the prince.
His amazement was unfeigned.
'What are the impossible, monstrous ideas you--where--? Who leads you
to fancy there is one earthly chance for you when you say you cannot
withdraw? Cannot? Are you requested? Are you consulted? It is a
question to be decided in the imperative: you must. What wheel it is you
think you have sufficient vigour to stop, I am profoundly unaware, but I
am prepared to affirm that it is not the wheel of my household. I would
declare it, were I a plain citizen. You are a nullity in the case, in
point of your individual will--a nullity swept away with one wave of the
hand. You can do this, and nothing else: you can apologize, recognize
your station, repair a degree of mischief that I will not say was
preconceived or plotted. So for awhile pursue your studies, your
travels. In time it will give me pleasure to receive you. Mr.
Richmond,' he added, smiling and rising; 'even the head of a little
German principality has to give numberless audiences.' His features
took a more cordial smile to convince me that the dismissing sentence
was merely playful.
As for me, my mind was confused by the visible fact that the father's
features resembled the daughter's. I mention it, that my mind's
condition may be understood.
Hardly had I been bowed out of the room when my father embraced me,
and some minutes later I heard Prince Otto talking to me and demanding
answers. That he or any one else should have hostile sentiments toward
a poor devil like me seemed strange. My gift of the horse appeared to
anger him most. I reached the chateau without once looking back, a
dispirited wretch. I shut myself up; I tried to read. The singular
brevity of my interview with the prince, from which I had expected great
if not favourable issues, affected me as though I had been struck by a
cannon shot; my brains were nowhere. His perfect courtesy was
confounding. I was tormented by the delusion that I had behaved
pusillanimously.
My father rushed up to me after dark. Embracing me and holding me by the
hand, he congratulated me with his whole heart. The desire of his life
was accomplished; the thing he had plotted for ages had come to pass.
He praised me infinitely. My glorious future, he said, was to carry a
princess to England and sit among the, highest there, the husband of a
lady peerless in beauty and in birth, who, in addition to what she was
able to do for me by way of elevation in my country, could ennoble in her
own territory. I had the option of being the father of English nobles or
of German princes; so forth. I did not like the strain; yet I clung to
him. I was compelled to ask whether he had news of any sort worth
hearing.
'None,' said he calmly; 'none. I have everything to hear, nothing to
relate; and, happily, I can hardly speak for joy.' He wept.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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