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the wapentake he had to do with Barkilphedro, and he had given a certain
amount of consent to his abductions--he had left the real for the
chimerical; the true for the false; Dea for Josiana; love for pride;
liberty for power; labour proud and poor for opulence full of unknown
responsibilities; the shade in which is God for the lurid flames in
which the devils dwell; Paradise for Olympus!
He had tasted the golden fruit. He was now spitting out the ashes to
which it turned.
Lamentable result! Defeat, failure, fall into ruin, insolent expulsion
of all his hopes, frustrated by ridicule. Immeasurable disillusion! And
what was there for him in the future? If he looked forward to the
morrow, what did he see? A drawn sword, the point of which was against
his breast, and the hilt in the hand of his brother. He could see
nothing but the hideous flash of that sword. Josiana and the House of
Lords made up the background in a monstrous chiaroscuro full of tragic
shadows.
And that brother seemed so brave and chivalrous! Alas! he had hardly
seen the Tom-Jim-Jack who had defended Gwynplaine, the Lord David who
had defended Lord Clancharlie; but he had had time to receive a blow
from him and to love him.
He was crushed.
He felt it impossible to proceed further. Everything had crumbled about
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