Carnac's Folly, Volume 3_

he cry heard in the streets at ten-thirty at night when Ca

. One of his foes, however, had no assurance of Carnac's defeat. He was too old an agent to believe in returns till all were in, and he knew of the two incidents by which Carnac had got advantage-at the Island over Eugene Grandois, and at the Mill over Roudin the very day of polling; and i

and the Mill. He was also nonplussed by Carnac's coolness. For a man with an artist's temperament, he was well controlled. When he came into the room, he went straight to Barouche and shook hands wit

esult, the agent dared not glance at his defeated

ll have luck in Parliament. This is no place for me

uzanne before the public. The boy's face was so glowing that his own youth came back, and a better spirit took residence in him. He gave thanks to the Returning Officer, an

demands for a speech, he said he owed to his workers what he could never repay, and that

u back," shouted a

son by the story of his secret marriage was the sole comfort he had. He advised his fol

ve had in thirty years,

n beaten

ing for him, and unprepared for the bad news he brought. The night was spent in pain of mind, and the comfort the ex-Minister gave him, that a seat would be found for him by the Government, gave him no thrill. He knew he had enemies in the Gove

he tried to sleep? Beaten by his illegitimate son at the polls, the victim of his own wrong-doing-the sacrifice of penalty! He knew that his son, inheriting his own political gifts, had done what could have been done by no

e for the hours of defeat and loss. Well, wealth and power, the friends so needed in dark days, had not been made, and Barode Barouche realized he had naught left. He had been too successful from the start; he had had all his own way; and he had taken no pains to make or keep friends. He well knew there was no man in the Cabinet or among his colleagues that would stir to help him-he had stirred to help no man in all the years he had served the public. It was no good only to serve the public, for democracy is a we

uth's a dream, middle age a delusion, old age a mistake!'" he kept repeating to himself in quotation. "What does one get out of it? Nothing-nothing-nothing! It's all

it ought to be lived, there is no such thing as failure, or defeat, or penalty, or remorse or punishment. Because the straight man has only good ends to serve, he has no failures; though he may have di

the roads soon dried, and he would suffer little inconvenience from the storm. He bade his host good-bye and drove away intent to reach the city in time for breakfast. He found the roads heavy, and the

dly injured. Yet as he entered the bridge, his horse still trotting, he was conscious of a hollow, semi- thunderous noise which seemed not to belong to the horse's hoofs and the iron wheels of the carriage. He raised his eyes to see that the other end o

downwards after his horse and carriage into the stream. He could swim, and as he swept down this thought came to him-that he might be able to get the shore,

he was dead, and his finders could only compose his limbs decently. Bu

ODE BAROUCHE THE END OF

s mother telling her all he knew. When she read the letter,