Hearts of Oak, Part II [pp. 419-431]

HEARTS OF O0A4K.
he. "It is glorious to live in this age
of Progress, when the mind shakes off
its fetters and is free to soar heaven ward."
The same thing has been said in every
age. We laugh at the Past: the Future,
in its turn, will laugh at us. The climax
is not reached. The swart Egyptian,
chipping at a block of stone for the base
of the prospective Pyramids, gloried in
his day. Swart Egyptian, where are
your lost arts, that, with all our boast ings, we can not equal? Tell us the
riddle of the Sphinx. "There are pray ers enough," said Paul; "let us live
while we may, for life is brief."
The very air was burdened with suppli cations, when he uttered those thoughtless words. Burdened and glorified with
the majesty of penitential voices. Millions and millions were bowing before
the altar, whence in all times they receive their consolations. And against
that throne of Grace, whose awful beauty illumines the farthest world in space,
Paul, rejoicing in his puny strength,
lifted his hand in scorn.
THE FETE OF THE BUTTERFLIES.
The Sophomore year culminated in
a grand literary entertainment and a
ball. The former, among its many attractions, presented Paul Rookh as a
dramatic reader. His voice was full and
melodious; his presence, elegant. He
read with great delicacy and skill from
the poems of Swinburne, who seems
to have been his favorite at this time.
His clear and musical utterance was well
attuned to the mingled honey and gall
of the wonderful poet, and his success
was immediate and unquestioned. He
was the lion of the fZte in the evening,
which was the sensation of the season,
the pride of the young collegians, and
had been the dream of fair women for
three months preceding the event. Butterflies were there in profusion, glossy
and downy; covered with velvet and
golden dust, powdered and perfumed,
and gauze-winged.
Paul's toilet was stupendous. He had
spent two hours in consulting his mirror;
and at the end of that time was still at a
loss to decide among the various modes
of tying his cravat that sugg,ested them selves. The cravat was his only badge
of coquetry; in other things, he was like
other fellows. Well-cut clothes are well cut clothes all the world over; but a
cravat is an ornament, to be worn like a
blossom at the throat, and by skillful
manipulation may be made to express
many shades of sentiment.
Having buckled on his irresistible ar mor of fashion and frivolity, Paul entered the arena. Of course he appeared
quite indifferent to the brilliant and bewildering spectacle. At his age one is
expected to be superior to all this tinsel
and folly: which is equivalent to saying
that one is expected to be what one is
not qualified to be.
Paul moved languidly among the
groups of willowy young ladies young
ladies so very willowy that when the
dance had tempted them upon the floor,
the exertion was found almost too much
for them, and they were obliged to rest
rather heavily in the arms of Paul, who
did his best to support the lovely burdens till the lagging music permitted
them once more to relapse into inaction.
Paul talked to a score of them, in turn,
of poetry and of Swinburne, quoting passionate, burning lines that brought real
color to the brows of the butterflies. It
was about all that Paul could do just
then, and he seemed to feel somewhat
ashamed, for he bit his lip once or twice
at his own folly, and walked into the
night-air for a moment to refresh himself.
Still the bewildering music reached him
there, and his card was scored with engagements which he could not in honor
slight. Back into the whirlwind he fluttered, as giddy and thoughtless as any
of them. Pale goddesses in tarlatan
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