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- Мари Корелли
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"
I
shall
see
about
this
at
once
"
--
I
answered
,
feeling
a
thrill
of
satisfaction
that
at
last
the
time
of
vengeance
on
certain
of
my
enemies
was
approaching
--
"
The
book
must
be
hurried
through
the
press
as
quickly
as
possible
--
and
I
shall
take
a
particular
pleasure
in
personally
attending
to
all
the
details
concerning
it
For
the
rest
of
my
plans
--
"
"
Leave
them
to
me
!
"
said
Rimânez
laying
his
finely
shaped
white
hand
with
a
masterful
pressure
on
my
shoulder
;
"
Leave
them
to
me
!
--
and
be
sure
that
before
very
long
I
shall
have
set
you
aloft
like
the
bear
who
has
successfully
reached
the
bun
on
the
top
of
a
greased
pole
--
a
spectacle
for
the
envy
of
men
,
and
the
wonder
of
angels
!
"
The
next
three
or
four
weeks
flew
by
in
a
whirl
of
excitement
,
and
by
the
time
they
were
ended
I
found
it
hard
to
recognize
myself
in
the
indolent
,
listless
,
extravagant
man
of
fashion
I
had
so
suddenly
become
.
Sometimes
at
stray
and
solitary
moments
the
past
turned
back
upon
me
like
a
revolving
picture
in
a
glass
with
a
flash
of
unwelcome
recollection
,
and
I
saw
myself
worn
and
hungry
,
and
shabbily
clothed
,
bending
over
my
writing
in
my
dreary
lodging
,
wretched
,
yet
amid
all
my
wretchedness
receiving
curious
comfort
from
my
own
thoughts
which
created
beauty
out
of
penury
,
and
love
out
of
loneliness
.
This
creative
faculty
was
now
dormant
in
me
--
I
did
very
little
,
and
thought
less
.
But
I
felt
certain
that
this
intellectual
apathy
was
but
a
passing
phase
--
a
mental
holiday
and
desirable
cessation
from
brain-work
to
which
I
was
deservedly
entitled
after
all
my
sufferings
at
the
hands
of
poverty
and
disappointment
.
My
book
was
nearly
through
the
press
--
and
perhaps
the
chiefest
pleasure
of
any
I
now
enjoyed
was
the
correction
of
the
proofs
as
they
passed
under
my
supervision
.
Yet
even
this
,
the
satisfaction
of
authorship
,
had
its
drawback
--
and
my
particular
grievance
was
somewhat
singular
.
I
read
my
own
work
with
gratification
of
course
,
for
I
was
not
behind
my
contemporaries
in
thinking
well
of
myself
in
all
I
did
--
but
my
complacent
literary
egoism
was
mixed
with
a
good
deal
of
disagreeable
astonishment
and
incredulity
,
because
my
work
,
written
with
enthusiasm
and
feeling
,
propounded
sentiments
and
inculcated
theories
which
I
personally
did
not
believe
in
.
Now
,
how
had
this
happened
,
I
asked
myself
?
Why
had
I
thus
invited
the
public
to
accept
me
at
a
false
valuation
?
I
paused
to
consider
--
and
I
found
the
suggestion
puzzling
.
How
came
I
to
write
the
book
at
all
,
seeing
that
it
was
utterly
unlike
me
as
I
now
knew
myself
?
My
pen
,
consciously
or
unconsciously
,
had
written
down
things
which
my
reasoning
faculties
entirely
repudiated
--
such
as
belief
in
a
God
--
trust
in
the
eternal
possibilities
of
man
's
diviner
progress
--
I
credited
neither
of
these
doctrines
.
When
I
imagined
such
transcendental
and
foolish
dreams
I
was
poor
--
starving
--
and
without
a
friend
in
the
world
;
--
remembering
all
this
,
I
promptly
set
down
my
so-called
'
inspiration
'
to
the
action
of
an
ill-nourished
brain
.
Yet
there
was
something
subtle
in
the
teaching
of
the
story
,
and
one
afternoon
when
I
was
revising
some
of
the
last
proof
sheets
I
caught
myself
thinking
that
the
book
was
nobler
than
its
writer
.
This
idea
smote
me
with
a
sudden
pang
--
I
pushed
my
papers
aside
,
and
walking
to
the
window
,
looked
out
.
It
was
raining
hard
,
and
the
streets
were
black
with
mud
and
slush
--
the
foot-passengers
were
drenched
and
miserable
--
the
whole
prospect
was
dreary
,
and
the
fact
that
I
was
a
rich
man
did
not
in
the
least
lift
from
my
mind
the
depression
that
had
stolen
on
me
unawares
.
I
was
quite
alone
,
for
I
had
my
own
suite
of
rooms
now
in
the
hotel
,
not
far
from
those
occupied
by
Prince
Rimânez
;
I
also
had
my
own
servant
,
a
respectable
,
good
sort
of
fellow
whom
I
rather
liked
because
he
shared
to
the
full
the
instinctive
aversion
I
felt
for
the
prince
's
man
,
Amiel
.
Then
I
had
my
own
carriage
and
horses
with
attendant
coachman
and
groom
--
so
that
the
prince
and
I
,
though
the
most
intimate
friends
in
the
world
,
were
able
to
avoid
that
'
familiarity
which
breeds
contempt
'
by
keeping
up
our
own
separate
establishments
.
On
this
particular
afternoon
I
was
in
a
more
miserable
humour
than
ever
my
poverty
had
brought
upon
me
,
yet
from
a
strictly
reasonable
point
of
view
I
had
nothing
to
be
miserable
about
.
I
was
in
full
possession
of
my
fortune
--
I
enjoyed
excellent
health
,
and
I
had
everything
I
wanted
,
with
the
added
consciousness
that
if
my
wants
increased
I
could
gratify
them
easily
.
The
'
paragraph
wheel
'
under
Lucio
's
management
had
been
worked
with
such
good
effect
that
I
had
seen
myself
mentioned
in
almost
every
paper
in
London
and
the
provinces
as
the
'
famous
millionaire
,
'
--
and
for
the
benefit
of
the
public
,
who
are
sadly
uninstructed
on
these
matters
,
I
may
here
state
as
a
very
plain
unvarnished
truth
,
that
for
forty
pounds
,
a
well-known
'
agency
'
will
guarantee
the
insertion
of
any
paragraph
,
provided
it
is
not
libellous
,
in
no
less
than
four
hundred
newspapers
.
The
art
of
'
booming
'
is
thus
easily
explained
,
and
level-headed
people
will
be
able
to
comprehend
why
it
is
that
a
few
names
of
authors
are
constantly
mentioned
in
the
press
,
while
others
,
perhaps
more
deserving
,
remain
ignored
.
Merit
counts
as
nothing
in
such
circumstances
--
money
wins
the
day
.
And
the
persistent
paragraphing
of
my
name
,
together
with
a
description
of
my
personal
appearance
and
my
'
marvellous
literary
gifts
,
'
combined
with
a
deferential
and
almost
awe-struck
allusion
to
the
'
millions
'
which
made
me
so
interesting
--
(
the
paragraph
was
written
out
by
Lucio
and
handed
for
circulation
to
the
'
agency
'
aforesaid
with
'
money
down
'
)
--
all
this
I
say
brought
upon
me
two
inflictions
--
first
,
any
amount
of
invitations
to
social
and
artistic
functions
--
and
secondly
,
a
continuous
stream
of
begging-letters
.
I
was
compelled
to
employ
a
secretary
,
who
occupied
a
room
near
my
suite
,
and
who
was
kept
hard
at
work
all
day
.
Needless
to
say
I
refused
all
appeals
for
money
;
--
no
one
had
helped
me
in
my
distress
,
with
the
exception
of
my
old
chum
'
Boffles
,
'
--
no
one
save
he
had
given
me
even
so
much
as
a
word
of
sympathy
--
I
was
resolved
now
to
be
as
hard
and
as
merciless
as
I
had
found
my
contemporaries
.
I
had
a
certain
grim
pleasure
in
reading
letters
from
two
or
three
literary
men
,
asking
for
work
'
as
secretary
or
companion
,
'
or
failing
that
,
for
the
loan
of
a
little
cash
to
'
tide
over
present
difficulties
.
'
One
of
these
applicants
was
a
journalist
on
the
staff
of
a
well-known
paper
who
had
promised
to
find
me
work
,
and
who
instead
of
doing
so
,
had
,
as
I
afterwards
learned
,
strongly
dissuaded
his
editor
from
giving
me
any
employment
.
He
never
imagined
that
Tempest
the
millionaire
,
and
Tempest
the
literary
hack
,
were
one
and
the
same
person
--
so
little
do
the
majority
think
that
wealth
can
ever
fall
to
the
lot
of
authors
!
I
wrote
to
him
myself
however
and
told
him
what
I
deemed
it
well
he
should
know
,
adding
my
sarcastic
thanks
for
his
friendly
assistance
to
me
in
time
of
need
--
and
herein
I
tasted
something
of
the
sharp
delight
of
vengeance
.
I
never
heard
from
him
again
,
and
I
am
pretty
sure
my
letter
gave
him
material
not
only
for
astonishment
but
meditation
.
Yet
with
all
the
advantages
over
both
friends
and
enemies
which
I
now
possessed
I
could
not
honestly
say
I
was
happy
.
I
knew
I
could
have
every
possible
enjoyment
and
amusement
the
world
had
to
offer
--
I
knew
I
was
one
of
the
most
envied
among
men
,
and
yet
--
as
I
stood
looking
out
of
the
window
at
the
persistently
falling
rain
,
I
was
conscious
of
a
bitterness
rather
than
a
sweetness
in
the
full
cup
of
fortune
.
Many
things
that
I
had
imagined
would
give
me
intense
satisfaction
had
fallen
curiously
flat
.
For
example
,
I
had
flooded
the
press
with
the
most
carefully
worded
and
prominent
advertisements
of
my
forthcoming
book
,
and
when
I
was
poor
I
had
pictured
to
myself
how
I
should
revel
in
doing
this
--
now
that
it
was
done
I
cared
nothing
at
all
about
it
.
I
was
simply
weary
of
the
sight
of
my
own
advertized
name
.
I
certainly
did
look
forward
with
very
genuine
feeling
and
expectation
to
the
publication
of
my
work
when
that
should
be
an
accomplished
fact
--
but
to-day
even
that
idea
had
lost
some
of
its
attractiveness
owing
to
this
new
and
unpleasant
impression
on
my
mind
that
the
contents
of
that
book
were
as
utterly
the
reverse
of
my
own
true
thoughts
as
they
could
well
be
.
A
fog
began
to
darken
down
over
the
streets
in
company
with
the
rain
--
and
disgusted
with
the
weather
and
with
myself
,
I
turned
away
from
the
window
and
settled
into
an
arm-chair
by
the
fire
,
poking
the
coal
till
it
blazed
,
and
wondering
what
I
should
do
to
rid
my
mind
of
the
gloom
that
threatened
to
envelop
it
in
as
thick
a
canopy
as
that
of
the
London
fog
.
A
tap
came
at
the
door
,
and
in
answer
to
my
somewhat
irritable
"
Come
in
!
"
Rimânez
entered
.
