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Miss Mephistopheles

Miss Mephistopheles

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CHAPTER I. FACES IN THE FIRE

Word Count: 2723    |    Released on: 17/11/2017

nd their brazen voices sounded hoarse and grumbling, as if they rang under protest. Cold, too!--not a brisk sharp frost--for here in Melbourne frost and snow are unk

t whose sombre bosoms poured the steady rain, splashing noisily on the shi

er, and turned their umbrellas inside out, with a shrill whistle of triumph. The steady light streamed out from the painted church windows, and the dull, blurred glare of the street lamps was

, and though possibly their souls suffered from such an omission, their bodies were certainly more comfortable. Among these godless people, who thus preferred comf

luxurious apartment, and this special room was certainly no exception to the rule. It was square, with a fairly lofty c

ney, and illuminating the apartment in a curiously fantastic manner. It sent out red shafts of light into dark corners, as if to find out what was

nd beside it was a great untidy pile of music. At one end of the room, a desk covered with papers, and immediately above it a shelf containing a small array of well-worn books. Near the desk stood an aggravatingly bright sideboard, whereon were some glasses, a jug of water, and a half-empty bottle of whi

Ezra Lazarus, journalist. Ezra Lazarus himself was seated at the piano playing snatches of music, while on the hearth-rug, smoking a pipe,

ll the Hebraic love of music, he was an accomplished pianist. As for the rest--staid in his demeanour, soft-spoken in his language, and much given to solitary wanderings. Yet he was no misanthrope, and those who knew him intimately found him a most charming companion, full of quaint ideas and bookish lore, but he was essentially a man of ideality, and shrank from conta

a sensitive mouth, almost hidden by a small fair moustache. His nose was thin and straight, with delicately-cut nostrils, and his head was well set on his broad shoulders, albeit he had a trick of throwing it back whi

Melbourne with the laudable intention of devoting himself to literature. That he was poor might be surmised from his shabby, well-brushed clothes, and hi

me they met. Jew and Gentile, musician and student, different nationalities, different trains of thought, yet the mere fact that they could both live in an ideal world of their o

nsitive nature, shrank from forcing himself on his confidence. The inexhaustible subjects of books and music, a walk by the banks of the Yarra, or an occasional visit to the theatre, had been, so far, the limit of their social companionship. The

th its fantastic blending of patriotic joy and despairing pain, then a rush of stormy chords, preluding a Spanish dance, instinct with the amorous languor and fierce passion of the south. Ou

a music, with its feverish brilliancy and undercurrent of sadness. Then he suddenly started, clenched his hand, and takin

said, in his soft voice

e, blew a thick wreath o

fter a pause; "it re

half sadly, h

rnal feminine o

d in front of the fire a

essant railing against women--good heavens! are we men so pure ourselves, that we

his hands round one of his knees, "I only quoted Sand,

" interposed the other quickly; "we

now?" asked the

that thin veneer of cynicism, under which we hide our natural feelings now-a-days; but

be downhearted, my friend; you are

ut money. Bohemianism is charming in novels, but in real life it is genera

fter w

th charming, but slightly imp

e of the shield," s

, I can't recollect the name

e lady of

ife," retorted

, "then we have a feeling in

laughe

" he said lightly. "'Dulcinea is the faire

e," said Ezra

her, tall, dark, and stately, an imperial daughter of Juda

arus dryly, "she is neither t

composedly; "well, my Dulcinea is like the sketch I

en't seen he

d the rule of three into the thick heads of five small brats, and I--well I

take up writing

"Lord knows--destiny, I suppose--I've had a queer sort of life altogether. I wa

r parent

" laco

ents, during which time Keith

one as long as the tail of a kite, only not so useful. I'd sell all my ancestors, as readily as Ch

is spelt di

Scottish fashion; as for the other, it's the French method acc

r pedigree, what is t

ing. I wandered all over Australia, and did anything that turned up. Suppressing the family pride, I took a situation in a Sandhurst store, kept by a man called Proggins, and there I met Eugénie Rainsford, who, as I told you, taught the juvenile Progginses. I had a desultory sort of education from my father, and having read a good deal, I determined to take to literature, inspired, I suppose, by the poetic melancholy of the Australian bush. I wrote poetry with the usual success; I then went on the stage, an

ss Rain

der, "bless her--the letters she has written me have been my bulwark against despair--a

ything now?" said

e Charlie in exile--the infernal luck of my royal ancestors still sticks to me, but, ah, bah!" shrugging his shoulders, "don't let's talk any mor

s morceaux, a pathetic, dreamy melody, which came stealing softly thro

bluish flames and red glimmer of the fire a vision of the dear d

en bright with flowers, and over the gate the shadow of a beautiful woman stood talking to the

ome back, Keith?" as

er shadow proudly. "I am riding forth li

et voice of the girl; "it is the Holy Gra

man shadow hopefully. "Meanw

plied the girl, smiling sa

oom, and Stewart, with idle gaze, stared into the burning heart of the fire,

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