Good Books

Errington listened with unruffled
patience. He heard himself, his pleasures, his wealth, his rank, thus
made light of, without the least offense. He met the steady gaze of the
_bonde_ quietly, and slightly bent his head as though in deference to
his remarks.
"You are quite right," he said simply. "We modern men are but pigmies
compared with the giants of old time. Royal blood itself is tainted
nowadays. But, for myself, I attach no importance to the mere
appurtenances of life,--the baggage that accompanies one on that brief
journey. Life itself is quite enough for me."
"And for me too," averred Lorimer, delighted that his friend had taken
the old farmer's scornful observations so good-naturedly. "But, do you
know, Mr. Gueldmar, you are making life unpleasant for us just now, by
turning us out? The conversation is becoming interesting! Why not
prolong it? We have no friends in Bosekop, and we are to anchor here for
some days. Surely you will allow us to come and see you again?"
Olaf Gueldmar was silent.


Pages:
94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118