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"The class of American women who travel, live abroad, and represent our country to the foreign eye, have acquired the reputation of being Sybarites in luxury and extravagance, and there is much in the modes of life that are creeping into our richer circles to justify this.
"John," said Marian to me, a suspicion of the truth crossing her mind, "John, can it be the bicycle man?" "Yes, it can be," I said; "it is." "Well," said Marian, "he's been doing a little more for our friend than we did." Nor was this the last we heard of that meteoric trip through England, which the alleged author of The Sybarites had indulged in. He did not go up to London; not he.
He isn't guilty: he isn't the man." "Isn't the man?" repeated Farrar. "No," I answered; "it's a long tale, and no time to tell it now. But he is really, as he claims to be, the author of all those detestable books we have been hearing so much of." "The deuce he is!" exclaimed Farrar, dropping the stopper he was tying. "Did he write The Sybarites?"
"Who would have thought," she persisted, "that the author of The Sybarites, the man who chose Desmond for a hero, could play thus idly with the heart of woman? The man who wrote these beautiful lines: 'Inconstancy in a woman, because of the present social conditions, is sometimes pardonable.
If he and Susy were to separate there was no reason why it should not be done decently and quietly, as such transactions were habitually managed among people of their kind. It seemed grotesque to introduce melodrama into their little world of unruffled Sybarites, and he felt inclined, now, to smile at the incongruity of his gesture.... But suddenly his eyes filled with tears.
"That is admitting that he writes well." "Admitting?" they shouted scornfully, "and don't you admit it?" "Some people like his writing, I have to confess," said the Celebrity, with becoming calmness; "certainly his personality could not sell an edition of thirty thousand in a month. I think 'The Sybarites' the best of his works." "Upon my word, Mr.
His heroes are divine, you must admit. And, Mr. Crocker," she concluded with a charming naivety, "I just made up my mind I would have him." "Woman proposes, and man disposes," I laughed. "He escaped in spite of you." She looked at me queerly. "Only a jest," I said hurriedly; "your escape is the one to be thankful for. You might have married him, like the young woman in The Sybarites.
To speak truth, I expected every moment to see him appear. Why, in the name of all his works, did he stay there? Nothing worse could befall him than to go to Far Harbor with Drew, where our words concerning his identity would be taken. And what an advertisement this would be for the great author. The Sybarites, now selling by thousands, would increase its sales to ten thousands.
That state also is liable to seditions which is composed of different nations, till their differences are blended together and undistinguishable; for as a city cannot be composed of every multitude, so neither can it in every given time; for which reason all those republics which have hitherto been originally composed of different people or afterwards admitted their neighbours to the freedom of their city, have been most liable to revolutions; as when the Achaeans joined with the Traezenians in founding Sybaris; for soon after, growing more powerful than the Traezenians, they expelled them from the city; from whence came the proverb of Sybarite wickedness: and again, disputes from a like cause happened at Thurium between the Sybarites and those who had joined with them in building the city; for they assuming upon these, on account of the country being their own, were driven out.
And yet there are some women I know of who would not write an epitaph to his taste." Farrar looked at her curiously. "I beg your pardon," he said. "Do not imagine I am touchy on the subject," she replied quickly; "some of us are fortunate enough to have had our eyes opened." I thought the Celebrity stirred uneasily. "Have you read The Sybarites?" she asked. Farrar was puzzled.
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