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 will retort upon you in your own words fair lady, and say 'I guess
you mean compliments.' What I venture to imply however, is that even
when wealth does fall to the lot of one of these 'Nature's noblemen,' it
is not _because_ of his innate nobility that he wins social distinction.
It is simply because he is rich. That is what vexes me. I for example,
have endless friends who are not my friends so much as the friends of my
income. They do not trouble to inquire as to my antecedents,--what I am
or where I came from is of no importance. Neither are they concerned in
how I live or what I do; whether I am sick or well, happy or unhappy, is
equally with them a matter of indifference. If they knew more about me,
it would perhaps be better in the long run. But they do not want to
know,--their aims are simple and unconcealed,--they wish to make as much
out of me, and secure as much advantage to themselves by their
acquaintance with me as possible. And I give them their full way,--they
get all they want,--and more!"
His musical voice lingered with a curiously melancholy impressiveness on
the last word,--and this time, not only Miss Chesney, but we all, looked
at him as though drawn by some irresistible magnetic spell, and for a
moment there was silence.
"Very few people have any real friends,"--said Lord Elton presently.
"And in that respect I suppose we're none of us worse off than Socrates,
who used to keep two chairs only in his house 'one for myself, and
another for a friend--when I find him!' But you are a universal
favourite Lucio,--a most popular fellow--and I think you're rather hard
on your set. People must look after themselves you know--eh?"
Lucio bowed his head gravely.
"They must indeed," he replied--"Especially as the latest news of
science is that God has given up the business."
Miss Fitzroy looked displeased,--but the Earl laughed uproariously. At
that moment a step was heard outside, approaching the open doorway of
the drawing-room, and Miss Chesney's quick ears caught the sound. She
shook herself out of her reclining attitude instantly and sat erect.
"It's Sibyl!" she said with a half-laughing half-apologetic flash of her
brown eyes at us all--"I never can loll before Sibyl!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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