The Parisians — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Parisians — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century; Paris (France) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Do not lose so rare an opportunity. There is but one drawback to
your triumphant candidature. It will be said that you have no
longer an acre in the county in which the Vanes have been settled so
long. That drawback can be removed. It is true that you can never
hope to buy back the estates which you were compelled to sell at
your father’s death: the old manufacturer gripes them too firmly to
loosen his hold; and after all, even were your income double what it
is, you would be overhoused in the vast pile in which your father
buried so large a share of his fortune. But that beautiful old
hunting-lodge, the Stamm Schloss of your family, with the adjacent
farms, can be now repurchased very reasonably. The brewer who
bought them is afflicted with an extravagant son, whom he placed in
the--Hussars, and will gladly sell the property for L5,000 more than
he gave: well worth the difference, as he has improved the farm-
buildings and raised the rental. I think, in addition to the sum
you have on mortgage, L3,000 will be accepted, and as a mere
investment pay you nearly three per cent. But to you it is worth
more than double the money; it once more identifies your ancient
name with the county. You would be a greater personage with that
moderate holding in the district in which your race took root, and
on which your father’s genius threw such a lustre, than you would be
if you invested all your wealth in a county in which every squire
and farmer would call you “the new man.” Pray think over this most
seriously, and instruct your solicitor to open negotiations with the
brewer at once. But rather put yourself into the train, and come
back to England straight to me. I will ask Vavasour to meet you.
What news from Paris? Is the Emperor as ill as the papers
insinuate? And is the revolutionary party gaining ground?
Your affectionate cousin,
ALTON.
As he put down this letter, Graham heaved a short impatient sigh.
“The old Stamm Schloss,” he muttered,--“a foot on the old soil once
more! and an entrance into the great arena with hands unfettered. Is it
possible!--is it?--is it?”
At this moment the door-bell of the apartment rang, and a servant whom
Graham had hired at Paris as a laquais de place announced “Ce Monsieur.”
Graham hurried the letter into his portfolio, and said, “You mean the
person to whom I am always at home?”
“The same, Monsieur.”
“Admit him, of course.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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