The Palliser Novels: Complete Parliamentary Chronicles (All Six Novels in One Volume). Anthony Trollope

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СКАЧАТЬ do you want of me?” asked Mr Palliser, in French.

      Then the man spoke in French, also. “Has he got any money? Have you given him any money?”

      “I have not given him any money,” said Mr Palliser, not quite knowing what he had better do or say under such circumstances.

      “Then he will have a bad time with it,” said the man. “And he might have carried away two thousand francs just now! Dear, dear, dear! Has he got any friends, sir?”

      “Yes, he has friends. I do not know that I can assist him, or you.”

      “Fitzgerald;—his name is Fitzgerald?”

      “Yes,” said Mr Palliser; “his name is Fitzgerald.”

      “Ah! There are so many Fitzgeralds in England. Mr Fitzgerald, London;—he has no other address?”

      “If he had, and I knew it, I should not give it you without his sanction.”

      “But what shall we do? How shall we act? Perhaps with his own hand he will himself kill. For five weeks his pension he owes; yes, for five weeks. And for wine, oh so much! There came through Baden a my lord, and then, I think he got money. But he went and played. That was of course. But; oh my G––––! he might have carried away this night two thousand francs; yes, two thousand francs!”

      “Are you the hotelkeeper?”

      “His friend, sir; only his friend. That is, I am the head Commissionaire. I look after the gentlemen who sometimes are not all—not all—” exactly what they should be, the commissioner intended to explain; and Mr Palliser understood him although the words were not quite spoken. The interview was ended by Mr Palliser taking the name of the hotel, and promising to call before Mr Fitzgerald should be up in the morning—a purposed visit, which we need not regard as requiring any very early energy on Mr Palliser’s part, when we remember Burgo’s own programme for the following day.

      Lady Glencora received her husband that night with infinite anxiety, and was by no means satisfied with what had been done. He described to her as accurately as he could the nature of his interview with Burgo, and he described to her also his other interview with the head commissioner.

      “He will; he will,” said Lady Glencora; when she heard from her husband the man’s surmise that perhaps he might destroy himself. “He will; he will; and if he does, how can you expect that I shall bear it?” Mr Palliser tried to soothe her by telling her of his promised visit to the landlord; and Lady Glencora, accepting this as something, strove to instigate her husband to some lavish expenditure on Burgo’s behalf. “There can be no reason why he should not take it,” said Glencora. “None the least. Had it not been promised to him? Had he not a right to it?” The subject was one which Mr Palliser found it very hard to discuss. He could not tell his wife that Fitzgerald ought to accept his bounty; but he assured her that his money should be forthcoming, almost to any extent, if it could be made available.

      On the following morning he went down to the hotel, and saw the real landlord. He found him to be a reasonable, tranquil, and very goodnatured man,—who was possessed by a not irrational desire that his customers’ bills should be paid; but who seemed to be much less eager on the subject than are English landlords in general. His chief anxiety seemed to arise from the great difficulty of doing anything with the gentleman who was now lying in his bed upstairs. “Has he had any breakfast?” Mr Palliser asked.

      “Breakfast! Oh yes;” and the landlord laughed. He had been very particular in the orders he had given. He had desired his cutlets to be dressed in a particular way,—with a great deal of cayenne pepper, and they had been so dressed. He had ordered a bottle of Sauterne; but the landlord had thought, or the head-waiter acting for him had thought, that a bottle of ordinary wine of the country would do as well. The bottle of ordinary wine of the country had just that moment been sent upstairs.

      Then Mr Palliser sat down in the landlord’s little room, and had Burgo Fitzgerald’s bill brought to him. “I think I might venture to pay it,” said Mr Palliser.

      “That was as monsieur pleased,” said the landlord, with something like a sparkle in his eye.

      What was Mr Palliser to do? He did not know whether, in accordance with the rules of the world in which he lived, he ought to pay it, or ought to leave it; and certainly the landlord could not tell him. Then he thought of his wife. He could not go back to his wife without having done something; so, as a first measure, he paid the bill. The landlord’s eyes glittered, and he receipted it in the most becoming manner.

      “Should he now send up the bottle of Sauterne?”—but to this Mr Palliser demurred.

      “And to whom should the receipted bill be given?” Mr Palliser thought that the landlord had better keep it himself for a while.

      “Perhaps there is some little difficulty?” suggested the landlord.

      Mr Palliser acknowledged that there was a little difficulty. He knew that he must do something more. He could not simply pay the bill and go away. That would not satisfy his wife. He knew that he must do something more; but how was he to do it? So at last he let the landlord into his confidence. He did not tell the whole of Burgo’s past history. He did not tell that little episode in Burgo’s life which referred to Lady Glencora. But he did make the landlord understand that he was willing to administer money to Mr Fitzgerald, if only it could only be administered judiciously.

      “You can’t keep him out of the gambling salon, you know, sir; that is, not if he has a franc in his pocket.” As to that the landlord was very confident.

      It was at last arranged, that the landlord was to tell Burgo that his bill did not signify at present, and that the use of the hotel was to be at Burgo’s command for the next three months. At the end of that time he was to have notice to quit. No money was to be advanced to him;—but the landlord, even in this respect, had a discretion.

      “When I get home, I will see what can be done with his relations there,” said Mr Palliser. Then he went home and told his wife.

      “But he’ll have no clothes,” said Lady Glencora.

      Mr Palliser said that the judicious landlord would manage that also; and in that way Lady Glencora was appeased,—appeased, till something final could be done for the young man, on Mr Palliser’s return home.

      Poor Burgo! He must now be made to end his career as far as these pages are concerned. He soon found that something had been done for him at the hotel, and no doubt he must have made some guess near the truth. The discreet landlord told him nothing,—would tell him nothing; but that his bill did not signify as yet. Burgo, thinking about it, resolved to write about it in an indignant strain to Mr Palliser; but the letter did not get itself written. When in England, Mr Palliser saw Sir Cosmo Monk, and with many apologies, told him what he had done.

      “I regret it,” said Sir Cosmo, in anger. “I regret it; not for the money’s sake, but I regret it.” The amount expended, was however repaid to Mr Palliser, and an arrangement was made for remitting a weekly sum of fifteen pounds to Burgo, through a member of the diplomatic corps, as long as he should remain at a certain small German town which was indicated, and in which there was no public gambling-table. Lady Glencora expressed herself satisfied for the present; but I must doubt whether poor Burgo lived long in comfort on the allowance made to him.

      Here we must say farewell СКАЧАТЬ