Paris (France) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
Somehow, in none of his calculations had the idea of invoking assistance
ever played a part. Naturally, as a reasoning being, he had foreseen the
present crisis for some months, but at the time when the inevitable
catastrophe first became clear to him it was already too late to regain
his balance, since the remainder of his inheritance was so pitifully
small that any idea of retrieving his fortunes through its
instrumentality was simply farcical. The swirl of the rapids, as he had
then told himself, had already caught his boat. All that was left to do
was to go straight on to the sheer of the fall, with his pennant flying
and himself singing at the helm. Then, on the brink, a well-placed
bullet--no bungling for Anthony Cazeby!--and the next day people would
be talking of the shocking accident which had killed him in the act of
cleaning his revolver, and saying the usual things about a young man
with a brilliant future before him and everything in life for which to
live.
And this plan he had carried out in every detail--save the last, to
which he was now come; and his was the satisfying conviction that not
one of the brilliant, careless men and women, among whom he lived, and
moved, and had his being, suspected for a moment that the actual
circumstances differed in the least from the outward appearances. He
thought it all over carefully now, and there was no play in the entire
game that he felt he would have liked to have changed.
Sentiment had no part in the makeup of Anthony Cazeby. Lacking from
early childhood the common ties of home affection, and by training and
profession a diplomat, he added to a naturally undemonstrative nature
the non-committal suavity of official poise. But that was not all. He
had never been known to be ill at ease. This was something which gained
him a reputation for studious self-control. As a matter of fact it was
due to nothing of the sort. No one had ever come fairly at the root of
his character except Cazeby père, who once said, in a fit of passion,
"You don't care a brass cent, sir, whether you live and are made
President of the United States, or die and are eternally damned!" And
that was exactly the point.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account