Zanoni eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 579 pages of information about Zanoni.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “how right you were to tell me to marry respectably; to have a solid position; to live in decorous fear of the world and one’s wife; and to command the envy of the poor, the good opinion of the rich.  You have practised what you preach.  Delicious existence!  The merchant’s desk and the curtain lecture!  Ha! ha!  Shall we have another night of it?”

Mervale, embarrassed and irritated, turned the conversation upon Glyndon’s affairs.  He was surprised at the knowledge of the world which the artist seemed to have suddenly acquired, surprised still more at the acuteness and energy with which he spoke of the speculations most in vogue at the market.  Yes; Glyndon was certainly in earnest:  he desired to be rich and respectable,—­and to make at least ten per cent for his money!

After spending some days with the merchant, during which time he contrived to disorganise all the mechanism of the house, to turn night into day, harmony into discord, to drive poor Mrs. Mervale half-distracted, and to convince her husband that he was horribly hen-pecked, the ill-omened visitor left them as suddenly as he had arrived.  He took a house of his own; he sought the society of persons of substance; he devoted himself to the money-market; he seemed to have become a man of business; his schemes were bold and colossal; his calculations rapid and profound.  He startled Mervale by his energy, and dazzled him by his success.  Mervale began to envy him,—­to be discontented with his own regular and slow gains.  When Glyndon bought or sold in the funds, wealth rolled upon him like the tide of a sea; what years of toil could not have done for him in art, a few months, by a succession of lucky chances, did for him in speculation.  Suddenly, however, he relaxed his exertions; new objects of ambition seemed to attract him.  If he heard a drum in the streets, what glory like the soldier’s?  If a new poem were published, what renown like the poet’s?  He began works in literature, which promised great excellence, to throw them aside in disgust.  All at once he abandoned the decorous and formal society he had courted; he joined himself, with young and riotous associates; he plunged into the wildest excesses of the great city, where Gold reigns alike over Toil and Pleasure.  Through all he carried with him a certain power and heat of soul.  In all society he aspired to command,—­in all pursuits to excel.  Yet whatever the passion of the moment, the reaction was terrible in its gloom.  He sank, at times, into the most profound and the darkest reveries.  His fever was that of a mind that would escape memory,—­his repose, that of a mind which the memory seizes again, and devours as a prey.  Mervale now saw little of him; they shunned each other.  Glyndon had no confidant, and no friend.


     Ich fuhle Dich mir nahe;
     Die Einsamkeit belebt;
     Wie uber seinen Welten
     Der Unsichtbare schwebt. 

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Zanoni from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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