Gossip had it that my father always loved the theatre, though perhaps the
Green Room better than the footlights. The marked passages in his library
still attest his propensity. He now looked about him with a keen
appreciation, as though my words were all that he required to round put
his evening. Like a man whose work is finished, and who is pleasantly
fatigued by his exertions, he leaned back in his chair.

"My son," he said, "you have a keenness of wit, and a certain decision,
which I confess I overlooked in you at first--"

The moment must have pleased him, for he paused, as though on purpose to
prolong it.

"You are right," he continued finally. "I am here to set you a bad
example, Henry, and, believe me, it will be no fault of mine if it is
not more effective than a good one. Listen, my son, and you too,
Mademoiselle, I have been many things, tried many things in this life,
most of them discreditable. I have wasted my days and my prospects in
a thousand futilities. I have lost my friends. I have lost my
position. Sneer at me, my son, laugh at me, curse me if you wish. I
shall be the first to commend you for it. I am broad-minded enough to
recognize your position.

"But above all things watch me. Watch me, and remember the things I do.
Recall my ethics and my logic. They are to be your legacy, my son. What
money I may leave you is doubtless tainted. But the things I do--of
course you perceive their value?"

"Only in a negative sense," I replied pushing the bottle toward him.