"You smoke?--I am very glad to hear it. I began far too young, and
have suffered. It's too early to drink--and perhaps you don't do
that either?--Really? Vegetarian also, perhaps?--Why, you are
the model son of your father. And the regime seems to suit you. _Per
Bacco_! couldn't follow it myself: but I, like our fat friend, am
little better than one of the wicked. So you are one-and-twenty. You
have entered upon your inheritance, I presume?"
Piers answered with a look of puzzled inquiry.
"Haven't you heard about it? The little capital due to you."
"Not a word!"
"That's odd. _Was soil es bedeuten_?--By the bye, I suppose you
speak German well?"
"Tolerably."
"And French?"
"Moderately."
"_Benissimo_!" Daniel had just lit a cigar; he lounged gracefully,
observing his brother with an eye of veiled keenness. "Well, I think
there is no harm in telling you that you are entitled to something
--your mother's money, you know."
"I had no idea of it," replied Piers, whom the news had in 'some
degree excited.
"Apropos, why don't you live with father? Couldn't you read as well
down there?"
"Not quite, I think, and--the truth is, the stepmother doesn't
much like me. She's rather difficult to get on with you know."
"I imagined it. So you're just in lodgings?"
"I am with some people called Hannaford. I got to know them at
Geneva--they're not very well off; I have a room and they board
me.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26