Confession - Page 142/274

Kingsley seemed to conjecture my thoughts. A smile of lofty

significance expressing a feeling of mixed scorn and humility, rose

upon his countenance--as if admitting his own feebleness, while

insisting upon his recovered strength, A sentence which he uttered

to me in a whisper, at this moment, was intended to convey some

such meaning.

"It was only when thrown to the earth, Clifford, that the wrestler

recovered his strength."

"That fable," I replied, "proves that he was no god, at least. Of

the earth, earthy, he found strength only in his sphere. The moment

he aspired above it the god crushed him. I doubt if Hercules could

have derived any benefit from the same source."

"Ah! I am no Hercules, but you will also find that I am no Antaeus.

I fall, but I rise again, and I am not crushed. This is peculiarly

the source of HUMAN strength."

"Better not to fall."

"Ah! you are too late from Utopia. But--"

We were interrupted; a voice at my elbow--a soft, clear, insinuating

voice addressed my companion:-"Ah, Monsieur Kingsley, I rejoice to see you."

Kingsley gave me a single look, which said everything, as he turned

to meet the new-comer. The latter continued:-"Though worsted in that last encounter, you do not despair, I see."

"No! why should I?"

"True, why? Fortune baffles skill, but what of that? She is capricious.

Her despotism is feminine; and in her empire, more certainly than

any other, it may be said boldly, that, with change of day there

is change of doom. It is not always rain."

"Perhaps not, but we may have such a long spell of it that

everything is drowned. 'It's a long lane,' says the proverb, 'that

has no turn;' but a man be done up long before he gets to the

turning place."

The other replied by some of the usual commonplaces by which, in

condescending language, the gamester provoked and stimulates his

unconscious victim. Kingsley, however, had reached a period of

experience which enabled him to estimate these phrases at their

proper worth.

"You would encourage me," he said quietly, and in tones which, to

the unnoteful ear, would have seemed natural enough, but which,

knowing him as I did, were slightly sarcastic, and containing a

deeper signification than they gave out: "but you are the better

player. I am now convinced of that. Something there is in fortune,

doubtless; my self-esteem makes me willing to admit that; and yet

I do not deceive myself. You have been too much for me--you are!"

"The difference is trifling, very trifling, I suspect. A little

more practice will soon reconcile that."

"Ha! ha! you forget the practice is to be paid for."

"True, but it is the base spirit only that scruples at the cost of

its accomplishments."