His Nesta had knocked Lakelands to pieces.  Except for the making of money, the whole year of an erected Lakelands, notwithstanding uninterrupted successes, was a blank.  Or rather we have to wish it were a blank.  The scheme departs:  payment for the enlisted servants of it is in prospect.  A black agent, not willingly enlisted, yet pointing to proofs of service, refuses payment in ordinary coin; and we tell him we owe him nothing, that he is not a man of the world, has no understanding of Nature:  and still the fellow thumps and alarums at a midnight door we are astonished to find we have in our daylight house.  How is it?  Would other men be so sensitive to him?  Victor was appeased by the assurance of his possession of an exceptionally scrupulous conscience; and he settled the debate by thinking:  ’After all, for a man like me, battling incessantly, a kind of Vesuvius, I must have—­can’t be starved, must be fed—­though, pah!  But I’m not to be questioned like other men.—­But how about an aristocracy of the contempt of distinctions?—­But there is no escaping distinctions! my aristocracy despises indulgence.—­And indulges?—­Say, an exceptional nature!  Supposing a certain beloved woman to pronounce on the case?—­She cannot:  no woman can be a just judge of it.’—–­He cried:  My love of her is testified by my having Barmby handy to right her to-day, tomorrow, the very instant the clock strikes the hour of my release!

Mention of the clock swung that silly gilt figure.  Victor entered into it, condemned to swing, and be a thrall.  His intensity of sensation launched him on an eternity of the swinging in ridiculous nakedness to the measure of time gone crazy.  He had to correct a reproof of Mrs. Burman, as the cause of the nonsense.  He ran down to breakfast, hopeing he might hear of that clock stopped, and that sickening motion with it.

Another letter from the Sanfredini in Milan, warmly inviting to her villa over Como, acted on him at breakfast like the waving of a banner.  ’We go,’ Victor said to Nataly, and flattered-up a smile about her lips—­too much a resurrection smile.  There was talk of the Meeting at the theatre:  Simeon Fenellan had spoken there in the cause of the deceased Member, was known, and was likely to have a good reception.  Fun and enthusiasm might be expected.

‘And my darling will hear her husband speak to-night,’ he whispered as he was departing; and did a mischief, he had to fear, for a shadowy knot crossed Nataly’s forehead, she seemed paler.  He sent back Nesta and mademoiselle, in consequence, at the end of the Green Park.

Their dinner-hour was early; Simeon Fenellan, Colney Durance, and Mr. Peridon—­pleasing to Nataly for his faithful siege of the French fortress—­were the only guests.  When they rose, Nataly drew Victor aside.  He came dismayed to Nesta.  She ran to her mother.  ’Not hear papa speak?  Oh, mother, mother!  Then I stay with her.  But can’t she come?  He is going to unfold ideas to us.  There!’