Any possibility of changing his mind and waiting
for further news from Rome did not occur to him. One of his chief
characteristics was the determined way he always carried through
anything he had set his mind upon. In one of his public speeches he
had once said--"Let all the powers of hell oppose me, I will storm
them through and pass on! For the powers of Heaven are on MY side!"-
-the audacity and daring of this utterance carrying away his
audience in a perfect whirlwind of enthusiasm. And though it is
related of a certain cynical philosopher, that when asked by one of
his scholars for a definition of hell, he dashed into the face of
his enquirer an empty purse for answer, the lack of funds was no
obstacle to Cyrillon's intended journey.
"Because if I can go no other way, I will persuade the guard to let
me ride in the van, or travel in company with a horse or dog--quite
as good animals as myself in their way," he thought.
With a characteristic indifference to all worldly matters he had
entirely forgotten that the father whom he had just buried had died
wealthy, and that his entire fortune had been left to the son whom
he had so lately and strangely acknowledged. And when,--while he was
still engaged in counting up his small stock of money,--a knock came
at the door, and a well-dressed man of business-like appearance
entered with a smiling and propitiatory air, addressing him as
"Monsieur Vergniaud," Cyrillon did not know at all what to make of
his visitor.
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