“You talk like a millionaire,” said the other contemptuously.
“It is all the resemblance that exists between us, Bob; not, however, that I believe Baron Rothschild himself could moralise over the insufficiency of wealth to happiness as I could. Here comes our team, and I must say a sorrier set of screws never tugged in a rope harness. Get in first I like to show all respect to the man who pays. I say, my good fellow,” cried he to the postilion, “drive your very best, for mi Lordo here is immensely rich, and would just as soon give you five gold Marengos as five francs.”
“What was it you said to him?” asked Barnard, as they started at a gallop.
“I said he must not spare his cattle, for we were running away from our creditors.”
“How could I? What nonsense, man! besides, I wanted the fellow to take an interest in us, and, you see, so he has. Old Johnson was right; there are few pleasures more exhilarating than being whirled along a good road at the top speed of post-horses.”
“I suppose you saw that girl you are in love with?” said Barnard after a pause.
“Yes; two of them. Each of the syrens has got a lien upon my heart, and I really can’t say which of them holds the preference shares.’”
“Not what a great Croesus like yourself would call money, but still enough for a grand ‘operation’ at Hom-burg, or a sheep-farming exploit in Queensland.”
“You’re more ‘up’ to the first than the last”
“All wrong! Games of chance are to fellows like you, who must accept Fortune as they find her. Men of _my_ stamp mould destiny.”
“Well, I don’t know. So long as I have known you, you’ve never been out of one scrape without being half way into another.”
“And yet there are fellows who pay dearer for their successes than ever I have done for my failures.”
“They marry! Ay, Bob, they marry rich wives, but without any power to touch the money, just as a child gets a sovereign at Christmas under the condition he is never to change it.”
“I must say you are a pleasant fellow to travel with.”
“So I am generally reputed, and you’re a lucky dog to catch me ‘in the vein,’ for I don’t know when I was in better spirits than this morning.”
THE day was just breaking over that wide flat beside the Rhine at Basle, as two men, descending from a carriage on the high road, took one of the narrow paths which lead through the fields, walking slowly, and talking to each other in the careless tone of easy converse.