ed a thick cigarette, lighted it, and sat down in
his chair to think. The shadows were deepening, and the smoke of his
tobacco showed white against the gloom in the room. The news he had just
received would have driven some men crazy, and certainly most people
would experience some kind of vivid sensation at finding themselves
suddenly endowed with immense wealth from a quarter where they did not
even suspect it existed. Moreover, old Lindstrand's will was perfectly
unequivocal, and contained none of those ill-natured restrictions about
marrying or not marrying, or assuming the testator's name, or anything
which could put the legatee to the slightest inconvenience. But Claudius
experienced no sensation of pleasure at finding himself sole master of a
million and a half.

It was not that he was foolish enough to despise money, or even to
pretend to, as some people do. He would have felt keenly the loss of his
own little store, and would have hated to work for money instead of
working for work's sake. But he had enough, and had always had enough,
for his small wants. He loved beautiful things intensely, but he had no
desire to possess them; it was enough that he might see them, and carry
away the remembrance. He loved books, but he cared not a jot for rare
editions, so long as there were cheap ones published in Leipzic. That
old copy of _Sextus Empiricus_, on the desk there, he had bought because
he could not get an ordinary edition; and now that he had read it he did
not care to keep it. Of course it contained a great deal that was good,
but he had extracted the best of it, and meant to sell the volume to the
first bidder--not that he wanted the money, but because it was in the
way; if he allowed things to accumulate, there would be no turning round
in his little den. So he leaned back in his straight-backed chair and
wondered what in the world he should do with "all that money." He might
travel. Yes, but he preferred to travel with a view of seeing things,
rather than of reaching places. He would rather walk most of the way.
The only way in which he could possibly live up to such an income must
be by changing his entire mode of life--a house, somewhere in a great
city, horses, servants, and even a wife--Claudius laughed for the first
time in many months, a deep Homeric laugh--they would all help him to
get rid of his money. But then, a life like that--pshaw! impossible. He
was sick of it before beginning, then what would