The Sorrows of Satan: or, The Strange Experience of One Geoffrey Tempest, Millionaire: A RomanceCorelli, Marie
Philosophy
The Sorrows of Satan: or, The Strange Experience of One Geoffrey Tempest, Millionaire: A Romance
Corelli, Marie
Devil -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Millionaires -- Fiction; Religious fiction
"I must apologise for my sudden appearance, Geoffrey,"--he then
observed, turning to me--"But as I walked here from the station and came
up your fine avenue of trees, I was so struck with the loveliness of
this place and the exquisite peace of its surroundings, that, knowing my
way through the grounds, I thought I would just look about and see if
you were anywhere within sight before I presented myself at the
conventional door of entrance. And I was not disappointed,--I found you,
as I expected, enjoying each other's society!--the happiest and most
fortunate couple existent,--people whom, out of all the world I should
be disposed to envy, if I envied worldly happiness at all, which I do
not!"
I glanced at him quickly;--he met my gaze with a perfectly unembarrassed
air, and I concluded that he had not overheard Sibyl's sudden
melodramatic outburst.
"Have you dined?" I asked, with my hand on the bell.
"Thanks, yes. The town of Leamington provided me with quite a sumptuous
repast of bread and cheese and ale. I am tired of luxuries you
know,--that is why I find plain fare delicious. You are looking
wonderfully well, Geoffrey!--shall I offend you if I say you are
growing--yes--positively stout?--with the stoutness befitting a true
county gentleman, who means to be as gouty in the future as his
respectable ancestors?"
I smiled, but not altogether with pleasure; it is never agreeable to be
called 'stout' in the presence of a beautiful woman to whom one has only
been wedded a matter of three months.
"_You_ have not put on any extra flesh;--" I said, by way of feeble
retort.
"No"--he admitted, as he disposed his slim elegant figure in an
arm-chair near my own--"The necessary quantity of flesh is a bore to me
always,--extra flesh would be a positive infliction. I should like, as
the irreverent though reverend Sidney Smith said, on a hot day, 'to sit
in my bones,' or rather, to become a spirit of fine essence like
Shakespeare's Ariel, if such things were possible and permissible. How
admirably married life agrees with _you_, Lady Sibyl!"
His fine eyes rested upon her with apparent admiration,--she flushed
under his gaze I saw, and seemed confused.
"When did you arrive in England?" she inquired.
"Yesterday,"--he answered,--"I ran over Channel from Honfleur in my
yacht,--you did not know I had a yacht, did you Tempest?--oh, you must
come for a trip in her some day. She is a quick vessel, and the weather
was fair."
"Is Amiel with you?" I asked.
"No. I left him on board the yacht. I can, as the common people say,
'valet myself' for a day or two."
"A day or two?" echoed Sibyl--"But you surely will not leave us so soon?
You promised to make a long visit here."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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