Читать книгу Iole - Chambers Robert William - Страница 5

WEALTH,” observed the poet, waving his heavy white hand, “is a figure of speech, Mr. Wayne. Only by the process of elimination can one arrive at the exquisite simplicity of poverty—care-free poverty. Even a single penny is a burden—the flaw in the marble, the fly in the amber of perfection. Cast it away and enter Eden!” And joining thumb and forefinger, he plucked a figurative copper from the atmosphere, tossed it away, and wiped his fingers on his handkerchief.

“But—” began Wayne uneasily.

“Try it,” smiled the poet, diffusing sweetness; “try it. Dismiss all thoughts of money from your mind.”

“I do,” said Wayne, somewhat relieved. “I thought you meant for me to chuck my securities overboard and eat herbs.”

“Not in your case—no, not in your case. I can do that; I have done it. No, your sacred mission is simply to forget that you are wealthy. That is a very precious thought, Mr. Wayne—remain a Crœsus and forget it! Not to eliminate your wealth, but eliminate all thought of it. Very, very precious.”

“Well, I never think about things like that except at a directors’ meeting,” blurted out the young fellow. “Perhaps it’s because I’ve never had to think about it.”

The poet sighed so sweetly that the atmosphere seemed to drip with the saccharine injection.

“I wish,” ventured Wayne, “that you would let me mention the subject of business”—the poet shook his head indulgently—“just to say that I’m not going to foreclose.” He laid a packet of legal papers in the poet’s hand.

“Hush,” smiled Guilford, “this is not seemly in the house beautiful.... What was it you said, Mr. Wayne?”

“I? I was going to say that I just wanted—wanted to stay here—be your guest, if you’ll let me,” he said honestly. “I was cruising—I didn’t understand—Briggs—Briggs—” He stuck.