"It is the fashion to blaspheme!" he said,--"A mark of brilliancy in literature, and wit in society! I forgot! Pray go on,--if you did as Christ suggested----" "Yes,--if I gave half my goods to the poor, I should not be thanked for it, or considered anything but a fool for my pains." "You would wish to be thanked?" he said. "Naturally! Most people like a little gratitude in return for benefits." "They do. And the Creator, who is always giving, is supposed to like gratitude also,"--he observed--"Nevertheless He seldom gets it!" "I do not talk of hyperphysical nothingness,"--I said with impatience--"I am speaking of the plain facts of this world and the people who live in it. If one gives largely, one expects to be acknowledged as generous,--but if I were to divide my fortune, and hand half of it to the poor, the matter would be chronicled in about six lines in one of the papers, and society would exclaim 'What a fool!'" "Then let us talk no more about it,"--said Lucio, his brows clearing, and his eyes gathering again their wonted light of mockery and mirth--"Having won the Derby, you have really done all a nineteenth-century civilization expects you to do, and for your reward, you will be in universal demand everywhere. You may hope soon to dine at Marlborough House,--and a little back-stair influence and political jobbery will work you into the Cabinet if you care for it. Did I not tell you I would set you up as successfully as the bear who has reached the bun on the top of the slippery pole, a spectacle for the envy of men and the wonder of angels? Well, there you are!--triumphant!--a great creature Geoffrey!--in fact, you are the greatest product of the age, a man with five millions and owner of the Derby-winner! What is the glory of intellect compared to such a position as yours! Men envy you,--and as for angels,--if there are any,--you may be sure they _do_ wonder! A man's fame guaranteed by a horse, is something indeed to make an angel stare!" He laughed uproariously, and from that day he never spoke again of his singular proposition that I should 'part with him,' and let the "nobler" nature in me have its way. I was not to know then that he had staked a chance upon my soul and lost it,--and that from henceforward he took a determined course with me, implacably on to the appalling end.