Now all this was very fine, but not at all in keeping with the
Celebrity's character as I had come to conceive it. The idea that
adulation ever cloyed on him was ludicrous in itself. In fact I thought
the whole story fishy, and came very near to saying so.
“You won't tell anyone who I am, will you?” he asked anxiously.
He even misinterpreted my silences.
“Certainly not,” I replied. “It is no concern of mine. You might come
here as Emil Zola or Ralph Waldo Emerson and it would make no difference
to me.”
He looked at me dubiously, even suspiciously.
“That's a good chap,” said he, and was gone, leaving me to reflect on
the ways of genius.
And the longer I reflected, the more positive I became that there
existed a more potent reason for the Celebrity's disguise than ennui.
As actions speak louder than words, so does a man's character often give
the lie to his tongue.
CHAPTER IV
A Lion in an ass's skin is still a lion in spite of his disguise.
Conversely, the same might be said of an ass in a lion's skin. The
Celebrity ran after women with the same readiness and helplessness that
a dog will chase chickens, or that a stream will run down hill. Women
differ from chickens, however, in the fact that they find pleasure in
being chased by a certain kind of a man. The Celebrity was this kind
of a man. From the moment his valet deposited his luggage in his rooms,
Charles Wrexell Allen became the social hero of Asquith. It is by
straws we are enabled to tell which way the wind is blowing, and I first
noticed his partiality for Miss Trevor from the absence of the lively
conflicts she was wont to have with Farrar. These ceased entirely
after the Celebrity's arrival. It was the latter who now commanded the
conversation at our table.
I was truly sorry for Farrar, for I knew the man, the depth of his
nature, and the scope of the shock. He carried it off altogether too
well, and both the studied lightness of his actions and the increased
carelessness of his manner made me fear that what before was feigned,
might turn to a real bitterness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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