Selected Short Fiction by Charles Dickens Read Free Book Online

“I must finish this pipe first.”
    â€˜â€œLook sharp then,” said the figure.
    â€œâ€˜You seem in a hurry,” said the baron.
    â€œâ€˜Why, yes, I am,” answered the figure; “they’re doing a pretty brisk business in my way, over in England and France just now, and my time is a good deal taken up.”
    â€œâ€˜Do you drink?” said the baron, touching the bottle with the bowl of his pipe.
    â€˜â€œ Nine times out of ten, and then very hard,” rejoined the figure, drily.
    â€œâ€˜Never in moderation?” asked the baron.
    â€œâ€˜Never,” replied the figure, with a shudder, “that breeds cheerfulness.”
    â€˜The baron took another look at his new friend, whom he thought an uncommonly queer customer, and at length inquired whether he took any active part in such little proceedings as that which he had in contemplation.
    â€˜â€œNo,” replied the figure evasively; “but I am always present.”
    â€œâ€˜Just to see fair, I suppose?” said the baron.
    â€œâ€˜Just that,” replied the figure playing with the stake, and examining the ferule.
    â€˜â€œBe as quick as you can, will you, for there’s a young gentleman who is afflicted with too much money and leisure wanting me now, I find.”
    â€˜â€œGoing to kill himself because he has too much money!” exclaimed the baron, quite tickled: “Ha! ha! that’s a good one.” (This was the first time the baron had laughed for many a long day.)
    â€œâ€˜I say,” expostulated the figure, looking very much scared; “don’t do that again.”
    â€˜â€œWhy not?” demanded the baron.
    â€˜â€œBecause it gives me pain all over,” replied the figure. “Sigh as much as you please; that does me good.”
    â€˜The baron sighed mechanically, at the mention of the word; the figure, brightening up again, handed him the hunting-knife with the most winning politeness.
    â€œâ€˜It’s not a bad idea though,” said the baron, feeling the edge of the weapon; “a man killing himselfbecause he has too much money.”
    â€˜â€œPooh!” said the apparition, petulantly, “no better than a man’s killing himself because he has none or little.”
    â€˜Whether the genius unintentionally committed himself in saying this, or whether he thought the baron’s mind was so thoroughly made up that it didn’t matter what he said, I have no means of knowing. I only know that the baron stopped his hand, all of a sudden, opened his eyes wide, and looked as if quite a new light had come upon him for the first time.
    â€˜â€œWhy, certainly,” said Von Koëldwethout, “nothing is too bad to be retrieved.”
    â€˜â€œExcept empty coffers,” cried the genius.
    â€œâ€˜Well; but they may be one day filled again,” said the baron.
    â€˜â€œScolding wives,” snarled the genius.
    â€œâ€˜Oh! They may be made quiet,” said the baron.
    â€˜â€œThirteen children,” shouted the genius.
    â€˜â€œCan’t all go wrong, surely,” said the baron.
    â€˜The genius was evidently growing very savage with the baron, for holding these opinions all at once; but he tried to laugh it off, and said if he would let him know when he had left off joking, he should feel obliged to him.
    â€˜â€œBut I am not joking; I was never farther from it,” remonstrated the baron.
    â€œâ€˜Well, I am glad to hear that,” said the genius, looking very grim, “because a joke, without any figure of speech, is the death of me. Come! Quit this dreary world at once.”
    â€˜â€œI don’t know,” said the baron, playing with the knife; “it’s a dreary one certainly, but I don’t think yours is much better, for you have not the appearance of being particularly comfortable. That puts me in mind - what security have I, that I shall be any