Instead of dallying with my cigar beside cool waters in
the lounge of the hotel, I strolled out afterward on the Battery, and
sat down beside the statue of a tutelary personage. A lovely evening;
from some tree or shrub close by emerged an adorable faint fragrance,
and in the white electric light the acacia foliage was patterned out
against a thrilling, blue sky. If there were no fireflies abroad, there
should have been. A night for hedonists, indeed!
And suddenly, in fancy, there came before me Vaness's well-dressed
person, panting, pale, perplexed; and beside him, by a freak of vision,
stood the old darky's father, bound to the live-oak, with the bullets
whistling past, and his face transfigured. There they stood
alongside the creed of pleasure, which depended for fulfilment on its
waist measurement; and the creed of love, devoted unto death!
"Aha!" I thought, "which of the two laughs _last_?"
And just then I saw Vaness himself beneath a lamp, cigar in mouth, and
cape flung back so that its silk lining shone. Pale and heavy, in the
cruel white light, his face had a bitter look.
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