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Nevertheless--for he debated with himself--was it then so great a wrong
to take possession of his right, of his patrimony, of his heritage, of
his house; and, as a patrician, of the rank of his ancestors; as an
orphan, of the name of his father? What had he accepted? A restitution.
Made by whom? By Providence.
Then his mind revolted. Senseless acceptance! What a bargain had he
struck! what a foolish exchange! He had trafficked with Providence at a
loss. How now! For an income of £80,000 a year; for seven or eight
titles; for ten or twelve palaces; for houses in town, and castles in
the country; for a hundred lackeys; for packs of hounds, and carriages,
and armorial bearings; to be a judge and legislator; for a coronet and
purple robes, like a king; to be a baron and a marquis; to be a peer of
England, he had given the hut of Ursus and the smile of Dea. For
shipwreck and destruction in the surging immensity of greatness, he had
bartered happiness. For the ocean he had given the pearl. O madman! O
fool! O dupe!
Yet nevertheless--and here the objection reappeared on firmer ground--in
this fever of high fortune which had seized him all had not been
unwholesome. Perhaps there would have been selfishness in renunciation;
perhaps he had done his duty in the acceptance. Suddenly transformed
into a lord, what ought he to have done? The complication of events
produces perplexity of mind. This had happened to him. Duty gave
contrary orders. Duty on all sides at once, duty multiple and
contradictory--this was the bewilderment which he had suffered. It was
this that had paralyzed him, especially when he had not refused to take
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