One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library
One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library
One of Our Conquerors to the mark. ‘Doctor of the ship! with this prescription!’ Mr. Fenellan held up his glass. ‘Empty?’ Mr. Fenellan made it completely so. ‘Confident!’ he affirmed. An order was tossed to the waiter, and both gentlemen screwed their lips in relish of his heavy consent to score off another bottle from the narrow list. ‘At the office in forty minutes,’ Skepsey’s master nodded to him and shot him forth, calling him back: ‘By the way, in case a man named Jarniman should ask to see me, you turn him to the rightabout.’ Skepsey repeated: ‘Jarniman !’ and flew. ‘A good servant,’ Mr. Radnor said. ‘Few of us think of our country so much, whatever may be said of the specific he offers. Colney has impressed him somehow immensely: he studies to write too; pushes to improve himself; altogether a worthy creature.’ The second bottle appeared. The waiter, in sincerity a reluctant executioner, heightened his part for the edification of the admiring couple. ‘Take heart, Benjamin,’ said Mr. Fenellan; ‘it’s only the bottle dies; and we are the angels above to receive the spirit.’ ‘I’m thinking of the house,’ Benjamin replied. He told them that again. ‘It ‘s the loss of the fame of having the wine, that he mourns. But, Benjamin,’ said Mr. Fenellan, ‘the fame enters into the partakers of it, and we spread it, and perpetuate it for you.’ ‘That don’t keep a house upright,’ returned Benjamin. Mr. Fenellan murmured to himself: ‘True enough, it ‘s elegy—though we perform it through a trumpet; and there’s not a doubt of our being down or having knocked the world down, if we’re loudly praised.’ Benjamin waited to hear approval sounded on the lips uncertain as a woman is a wine of ticklish age. The gentlemen nodded, and he retired. A second bottle, just as good as the first, should, one thoughtlessly supposes, procure us a similar reposeful and excursive enjoyment, as of men lying on their backs and flying imagination like a kite. The effect was quite other. Mr. Radnor drank hastily and spoke with heat: ‘You told me All? 26
George Meredith tell me that!’ Mr. Fenellan gathered himself together; he sipped, and relaxed his bracing. But there really was a bit more to tell: not much, was it? Not likely to puff a gale on the voluptuous indolence of a man drawn along by Nereids over sunny seawaves to behold the birth of the Foam-Goddess? ‘According to Carling, her lawyer; that is, he hints she meditates a blow.’ ‘Mrs. Burman means to strike a blow?’ ‘The lady.’ ‘Does he think I fear any—does he mean a blow with a weapon? Is it a legal … ? At last? Fenellan!’ ‘So I fancied I understood.’ ‘But can the good woman dream of that as a blow to strike and hurt, for a punishment?—that’s her one aim.’ ‘She may have her hallucinations.’ ‘But a blow—what a word for it! But it’s life to us life! It’s the blow we’ve prayed for. Why, you know it! Let her strike, we bless her. We’ve never had an ill feeling to the woman; utterly the contrary—pity, pity, pity! Let her do that, we’re at her feet, my Nataly and I. If you knew what my poor girl suffers! She ‘s a saint at the stake. Chiefly on behalf of her family. Fenellan, you may have a sort of guess at my fortune: I’ll own to luck; I put in a claim to courage and calculation.’ ‘You’ve been a bulwark to your friends.’ ‘All, Fenellan, all-stocks, shares, mines, companies, industries at home and—abroad—all, at a sweep, to have the woman strike that blow! Cheerfully would I begin to build a fortune over again—singing! Ha! the woman has threatened it before. It’s probably feline play with us.’ His chin took support, he frowned. ‘You may have touched her.’ ‘She won’t be touched, and she won’t be driven. What ‘s the secret of her? I can’t guess, I never could. She’s a riddle.’ ‘Riddles with wigs and false teeth have to be taken and shaken for the ardently sought secret to reveal itself,’ said Mr. Fenellan. His picture, with the skeleton issue of any shaking, smote Mr. Radnor’s eyes, they turned over. ‘Oh!—her charms! She had a desperate belief in her beauty. The woman ‘s undoubtedly charitable; she’s not without a mind—sort of mind: well, it shows no crack till it’s put to use. Heart! yes, against me she has plenty of it. They say she used to be courted; she 27
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- Page 5 and 6: George Meredith Their exchange ratt
- Page 7 and 8: George Meredith tionally in dissent
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- Page 21 and 22: George Meredith His look, however,
- Page 23 and 24: George Meredith CHAPTER IV tention
- Page 25: George Meredith ‘I would beg him
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- Page 49 and 50: George Meredith than their acquaint
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<strong>One</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Our</strong> <strong>Conquerors</strong><br />
to the mark.<br />
‘Doctor <strong>of</strong> the ship! with this prescription!’ Mr. Fenellan<br />
held up his glass.<br />
‘Empty?’<br />
Mr. Fenellan made it completely so. ‘Confident!’ he affirmed.<br />
An order was tossed to the waiter, and both gentlemen<br />
screwed their lips in relish <strong>of</strong> his heavy consent to score <strong>of</strong>f<br />
another bottle from the narrow list.<br />
‘At the <strong>of</strong>fice in forty minutes,’ Skepsey’s master nodded<br />
to him and shot him forth, calling him back: ‘By the way, in<br />
case a man named Jarniman should ask to see me, you turn<br />
him to the rightabout.’<br />
Skepsey repeated: ‘Jarniman !’ and flew.<br />
‘A good servant,’ Mr. Radnor said. ‘Few <strong>of</strong> us think <strong>of</strong> our<br />
country so much, whatever may be said <strong>of</strong> the specific he<br />
<strong>of</strong>fers. Colney has impressed him somehow immensely: he<br />
studies to write too; pushes to improve himself; altogether a<br />
worthy creature.’<br />
The second bottle appeared. The waiter, in sincerity a reluctant<br />
executioner, heightened his part for the edification<br />
<strong>of</strong> the admiring couple.<br />
‘Take heart, Benjamin,’ said Mr. Fenellan; ‘it’s only the<br />
bottle dies; and we are the angels above to receive the spirit.’<br />
‘I’m thinking <strong>of</strong> the house,’ Benjamin replied. He told them<br />
that again.<br />
‘It ‘s the loss <strong>of</strong> the fame <strong>of</strong> having the wine, that he mourns.<br />
But, Benjamin,’ said Mr. Fenellan, ‘the fame enters into the<br />
partakers <strong>of</strong> it, and we spread it, and perpetuate it for you.’<br />
‘That don’t keep a house upright,’ returned Benjamin.<br />
Mr. Fenellan murmured to himself: ‘True enough, it ‘s elegy—though<br />
we perform it through a trumpet; and there’s<br />
not a doubt <strong>of</strong> our being down or having knocked the world<br />
down, if we’re loudly praised.’<br />
Benjamin waited to hear approval sounded on the lips uncertain<br />
as a woman is a wine <strong>of</strong> ticklish age. The gentlemen<br />
nodded, and he retired.<br />
A second bottle, just as good as the first, should, one<br />
thoughtlessly supposes, procure us a similar reposeful and<br />
excursive enjoyment, as <strong>of</strong> men lying on their backs and flying<br />
imagination like a kite. The effect was quite other. Mr.<br />
Radnor drank hastily and spoke with heat: ‘You told me All?<br />
26