"Are you too blind to see that I am?" he answered, his accents vibrating with intense melancholy--"Can you think I am happy? Does the smile I wear,--the disguising smile men put on as a mask to hide their secret agonies from the pitiless gaze of unsympathetic fellow-creatures,--persuade you that I am free from care? As for my wealth,--I have never told you the extent of it; if I did, it might indeed amaze you, though I believe it would not now arouse your envy, considering that your trifling five millions have not been without effect in depressing your mind. But I,--I could buy up kingdoms and be none the poorer,--I could throne and unthrone kings and be none the wiser,--I could crush whole countries under the iron heel of financial speculation,--I could possess the world,--and yet estimate it at no higher value than I do now,--the value of a grain of dust circling through infinity, or a soap-bubble blown on the wind!" His brows knitted,--his face expressed pride, scorn and sorrow. "There is some mystery about you Lucio;"--I said--"Some grief or loss that your wealth cannot repair--and that makes you the strange being you are. One day perhaps you will confide in me ..." He laughed loudly,--almost fiercely;--and clapped me heavily on the shoulder. "I will!" he said--"I will tell you my history! And you, excellent agnostic as you are, shall 'minister to a mind diseased,' and 'pluck out the memory of a rooted sorrow!' What a power of expression there was in Shakespeare, the uncrowned but actual King of England! Not the 'rooted sorrow' alone was to be 'plucked out' but the very 'memory' of it. The apparently simple line holds complex wisdom; no doubt the poet knew, or instinctively guessed the most terrible fact in all the Universe ..." "And what is that?" "The eternal consciousness of Memory--" he replied--"God can not forget,--and in consequence of this, His creatures _may_ not!" I forbore to reply, but I suppose my face betrayed my thoughts, for the cynical smile I knew so well played round his mouth as he looked at me. "I go beyond your patience, do I not!" he said, laughing again--"When I mention God,--who is declared by certain scientists to be non-existent except as a blind, indifferent natural Force or Atom-producer;--you are bored! I can see that at a glance. Pray forgive me! Let us resume our tour of inspection through this charming abode. You will be very difficult to satisfy if you are not a very emperor of contentment here;--with a beautiful wife and plenty of cash, you can well afford to give fame the go-by." "I may win it yet!" I said hopefully--"In this place, I feel I could write something worthy of being written." "Good! The 'divine flutterings' of winged thoughts are in your brain! Apollo grant them strength to fly! And now let us have luncheon,--afterwards we shall have time to take a stroll."