Yet Phædra did not slacken in making what poor opposition she could to the approach of ruin.
It was not the least deplorable and dangerous feature in the mutual relations of Oswald Waring and his favorite slave that their mutual positions often seemed temporarily reversed. Valentine would, upon occasions, seem, or really for the hour be, the leader, and Oswald the follower.
Unfortunately, Mr. Waring was singularly wanting in those qualities that command habitual respect from inferiors; nay, he even lacked self-respect and the dignity that it gives; while, more unhappily still, his servant Valentine possessed a large share of self-esteem, that, in his excitable nature, would, under provocation or temptation, rise to insufferable insolence. And this frequently placed them in false and trying attitudes toward each other. It was a baleful circumstance, too, that when, under the effects of wine, the master fell from easy good-nature into maudlin tenderness and sentimentality, varied by eccentric impulses of domineering authority, all of which was extremely distasteful and irritating to the servant, whose pride, instigated by the like baleful spirit, would rise to an intolerable arrogance. It was a situation full of dire bodency to both.
It happened one evening that Valentine had driven Mr. Waring into town to be present at a wine and card party. It was late at night, or speaking more accurately, early in the morning, when they were returning home. It was difficult to say which of the two was most excited. Mr. Waring was in his most maudlin mood of familiarity, Valentine in his most insolent humor. Each perceived the intoxication of the other, without being conscious of his own state. Oswald broke out in a bacchanalian song, which he sung all wrong, and by snatches--occasionally, in a sudden fit of maudlin affection, varying the performance by throwing his arm around his servant, and hugging him closely. Valentine bore this once, but, the second time it was repeated, he shook his master's arm off, exclaiming: "I am not one of your companions." But Oswald laughed aloud, rolled himself from side to side, and breaking out into another low song:
"Life is all a wariorum, And we cares not how it goes!"