‘Going up,’ said Polglaze, as he handed
the scrip to Vandeloup and got a cheque in exchange.
‘Oh, indeed!’ said Vandeloup, with a smile.
’I suppose my two friends have begun their little
game already,’ he thought, as he slipped the
scrip into his breast pocket.
‘Information?’ asked Polglaze, as Vandeloup
was going.
‘Oh! you’d like to know where I got it,’
said M. Vandeloup, amiably. ’Very sorry
I can’t tell you; but you see, my dear sir, I
am not a woman, and can keep a secret.’
Vandeloup walked out, and Polglaze looked after him
with a puzzled look, then summed up his opinion in
one word, sharp, incisive, and to the point—
‘Clever!’ said Polglaze, and put the cheque
in his safe.
Vandeloup strolled along the street thinking.
‘Bebe is out of my way,’ he thought, with
a smile; ’I have a small fortune in my pocket,
and,’ he continued, thoughtfully, ’Madame
Midas is in Melbourne. I think now,’ said
M. Vandeloup, with another smile, ‘that I have
conquered the blind goddess.’
THE OPULENCE OF MADAME MIDAS
A wealthy man does not know the meaning of the word
friendship. He is not competent to judge, for
his wealth precludes him giving a proper opinion.
Smug-faced philanthropists can preach comfortable
doctrines in pleasant rooms with well-spread tables
and good clothing; they can talk about human nature
being unjustly accused, and of the kindly impulses
and good thoughts in everyone’s breasts.
Pshaw! anyone can preach thus from an altitude of a
few thousands a year, but let these same self-complacent
kind-hearted gentlemen descend in the social scale—let
them look twice at a penny before spending it—let
them face persistent landladies, exorbitant landlords,
or the bitter poverty of the streets, and they will
not talk so glibly of human nature and its inherent
kindness. No; human nature is a sort of fetish
which is credited with a great many amiable qualities
it never possesses, and though there are exceptions
to the general rule, Balzac’s aphorism on mankind
that ‘Nature works by self-interest,’
still holds good today.
Madame Midas, however, had experienced poverty and
the coldness of friends, so was completely disillusionised
as to the disinterested motives of the people who
now came flocking around her. She was very wealthy,
and determined to stop in Melbourne for a year, and
then go home to Europe, so to this end she took a
house at St Kilda, which had been formerly occupied
by Mark Frettlby, the millionaire, who had been mixed
up in the famous hansom cab murder nearly eighteen
months before. His daughter, Mrs Fitzgerald, was
in Ireland with her husband, and had given instructions
to her agents to let the house furnished as it stood,
but such a large rent was demanded, that no one felt
inclined to give it till Mrs Villiers appeared on the
scene. The house suited her, as she did not want
