Even the women patronised the young
Marquess, and those who could not be blind to his real character, were
sure, that, if well managed, he would not turn out ill.
Assuredly our hero, though shelved, did not envy his successful rival.
Had he been, instead of one for whom he felt a sovereign contempt, a
being even more accomplished than himself, pity and not envy would have
been the sentiment he would have yielded to his ascendant star.
But, nevertheless, he could not be insensible to the results of this
incident; and the advent of the young Marquess seemed like the sting in
the epigram of his life. After all his ruinous magnificence, after
all the profuse indulgence of his fantastic tastes, he had sometimes
consoled himself, even in the bitterness of satiety, by reminding
himself, that he at least commanded the admiration of his
fellow-creatures, although it had been purchased at a costly price. Not
insensible to the power of his wealth, the magic of his station, he had,
however, ventured to indulge in the sweet belief that these qualities
were less concerned in the triumphs of his career than his splendid
person, his accomplished mind, his amiable disposition, and his finished
manner; his beauty, his wit, his goodness, and his grace.
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