This eBook was produced by Andrew Heath
and David Widger
My intercourse with Margrave grew habitual and familiar. He came to myhouse every morning before sunrise; in the evenings we were again broughttogether: sometimes in the houses to which we were both invited, sometimesat his hotel, sometimes in my own home.
Nothing more perplexed me than his aspect of extreme youthfulness,contrasted with the extent of the travels, which, if he were to bebelieved, had left little of the known world unexplored. One day I askedhim bluntly how old he was.
"How old do I look? How old should you suppose me to be?"
"I should have guessed you to be about twenty, till you spoke of havingcome of age some years ago."
"Is it a sign of longevity when a man looks much younger than he is?"
"Conjoined with other signs, certainly!"
"Have I the other signs?"
"Yes, a magnificent, perhaps a matchless, constitutional organization.But you have evaded my question as to your age; was it an impertinence toput it?"
"No. I came of age—let me see—three years ago."
"So long since? Is it possible? I wish I had your secret!"
"Secret! What secret?"
"The secret of preserving so much of boyish freshness in the wear and tearof man-like passions and man-like thoughts."
"You are still young yourself,—under forty?"
"Oh, yes! some years under forty."
"And Nature gave you a grander frame and a finer symmetry of feature thanshe bestowed on me."
"Pooh! pooh! You have the beauty that must charm the eyes of woman, andthat beauty in its sunny forenoon of youth. Happy man! if you love andwish to be sure that you are loved again."
"What you call love—the unhealthy sentiment, the feverish folly—leftbehind me, I think forever, when—"
"Ay, indeed,—when?"
"I came of age!"
"Hoary cynic! and you despise love! So did I once. Your time may come."
"I think not. Does any animal, except man, love its fellow she-animal asman loves woman?"
"As man loves woman? No, I suppose not."
"And why should the subject animals be wiser than their king? But toreturn: you would like to have my youth and my careless enjoyment ofyouth?"
"Can you ask,—who would not?" Margrave looked at me for a moment withunusual seriousness, and then, in the abrupt changes common to hiscapricious temperament, began to sing softly one of his barbaricchants,—a chant different from any I had heard him sing before, made,either by the modulation of his voice or the nature of the tune, so sweetthat, little as music generally affected me, this thrilled to my veryheart's core. I drew closer and closer to him, and murmured when hepaused,—
"Is not that a love-song?"
"No;" said he, "it is the song by which the serpent-charmer charms theserpent."
Increased intimacy with my new acquaintance did not diminish the charm ofhis society, though it brought to light some startling defects, both inhis mental and moral organization. I have before said that his knowledge,though it had swept over a wide circuit and dipped into curious,unfrequented recesses, was desultory and erratic. It certainly was notthat knowledge, sustained and aspiring, which the poet assures us is "thewing on