Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Roundabout Papersreally terrific, and he showed himself much more agitatedthan he had been when speaking about my grndm-th-r.“I thought Blanche might love me. I could speak toher in the language of all countries, and tell her thelore of all ages. I could trace the nursery legends whichshe loved up to their Sanscrit source, and whisper toher the darkling mysteries of Egyptian Magi. I couldchant for her the wild chorus that rang in the dishevelledEleusinian revel: I could tell her and I would, thewatchword never known but to one woman, the SabanQueen, which Hiram breathed in the abysmal ear ofSolomon—You don’t attend. Psha! you have drunk toomuch wine!” Perhaps I may as well own that I was NOTattending, for he had been carrying on for about fiftysevenminutes; and I don’t like a man to have all thetalk to himself.“Blanche de Bechamel was wild, then, about this secretof Masonry. In early, early days I loved, I marrieda girl fair as Blanche, who, too, was tormented by curiosity,who, too, would peep into my closet—into theonly secret I guarded from her. A dreadful fate befellpoor Fatima. An accident shortened her life. Poor thing!she had a foolish sister who urged her on. I alwaystold her to beware of Ann. She died. They said herbrothers killed me. A gross falsehood. am I dead? If Iwere, could I pledge you in this wine?”“Was your name,” I asked, quite bewildered, “wasyour name, pray, then, ever Blueb——?”“Hush! the waiter will overhear you. Methought wewere speaking of Blanche de Bechamel. I loved her,young man. My pearls, and diamonds, and treasure,my wit, my wisdom, my passion, I flung them all intothe child’s lap. I was a fool. Was strong Samson not asweak as I? Was Solomon the Wise much better whenBalkis wheedled him. I said to the king—But enoughof that, I spake of Blanche de Bechamel.“Curiosity was the poor child’s foible. I could see, asI talked to her. that her thoughts were elsewhere (asyours, my friend, have been absent once or twice tonight).To know the secret of Masonry was the wretchedchild’s mad desire. With a thousand wiles, smiles, ca-224