thinks upon the unhappy young creature whom his
cruelty drove from him, does his conscience affect his sleep at night?
Why should Sir Barnes Newcome's conscience be more squeamish than his
country's, which has put money in his pocket for having trampled on the
poor weak young thing, and scorned her, and driven her to ruin? When
the whole of the accounts of that wretched bankruptcy are brought up
for final Audit, which of the unhappy partners shall be shown to be most
guilty? Does the Right Reverend Prelate who did the benedictory business
for Barnes and Clara his wife repent in secret? Do the parents who
pressed the marriage, and the fine folks who signed the book, and ate
the breakfast, and applauded the bridegroom's speech, feel a little
ashamed? O Hymen Hymenaee! The bishops, beadles, clergy, pew-openers,
and other officers of the temple dedicated to Heaven under the
invocation of St. George, will officiate in the same place at scores
and scores more of such marriages: and St. George of England may behold
virgin after virgin offered up to the devouring monster, Mammon (with
many most respectable female dragons looking on)--may see virgin after
virgin given away, just as in the Soldan of Babylon's time, but with
never a champion to come to the rescue!

CHAPTER LIX. In which Achilles loses Briseis

Although the years of the Marquis of Farintosh were few, he had spent
most of them in the habit of command; and, from his childhood upwards,
had been obeyed by all persons round about him. As an infant he had but
to roar, and his mother and nurses were as much frightened as though he
had been a Libyan lion. What he willed and ordered was law amongst
his clan and family. During the period of his London and Parisian
dissipations his poor mother did not venture to remonstrate with her
young prodigal, but shut her eyes, not daring to open them on his wild
courses. As for the friends of his person and house, many of whom were
portly elderly gentlemen, their affection for the young Marquis was so
extreme that there was no company into which their fidelity would not
lead them to follow him; and you might see him dancing at Mabille with
veteran aides-de-camp looking on, or disporting with opera-dancers at a
Trois Freres banquet, which some old gentleman of his father's age had
taken the pains to order. If his lordship Count Almaviva wants a friend
to carry the lanthorn or to hold the ladder; do you suppose there are
not man