REALMAH’S DEPRESSION.

One of the notable persons in the city of Abibah was a man of good rank, of the name of Condore. This man had easily attained a high reputation by always prophesying evil, and by uttering criticism of a damaging kind upon all occasions when any great effort was made by other people. He it was who had put down the invention of wooden forks, which some ingenious man in the city had proposed, instead of fingers, to eat their food with. “What insanity,” Condore said, “it would be to provide every person with a sharp implement at a time when he was likely to be excited by meat and drink, and to be especially quarrelsome!” And the idea of eating with forks was at once discarded.

If a man was building a house, or forming a piece of furniture, Condore was always ready to pronounce that it would be a failure; and as, in this world, failure rather than success is the rule, Condore was very frequently right, and indeed had secured to himself the appellation of “Condore the judicious.”

So thoroughly had this chieftain attained the character of depreciating all the efforts of his fellow-townsmen, that a verb had been formed from his name; and when any enterprise was depreciated by adverse criticism, it was said in the town of Abibah that it had been “condored.” Once, however, he had erred by approving something. An ingenious man had proposed a bridge of boats instead of drawbridges as the means of access to the city. This, though a feasible scheme, had failed in execution; and the unfortunate Condore had found himself pledged to the approval of something that had failed. This approval had injured him for a time with his fellow-townsmen; but he took care not to repeat the error, and it could never afterwards be said of him that he had bestowed his august approval upon any plan, whether wise or foolish.

It may easily be imagined what a thorn this man had been in the side of Realmah. When Realmah had proposed that a small army of observation should go to support the main army that went as allies to the Phelatahs, Condore had pronounced that this was a mistake, just as he had pronounced that the sending any army at all was a mistake. He was much vexed with Realmah for having proved to be right. Great, therefore, was his joy when it was found out that Realmah had been baking stones without any effect.

Poor Realmah’s efforts were very critically considered throughout the city, and Condore formed one of many a group assembled to discuss Realmah’s doings. Some said he was foolish--others that he was mad; and it seemed to be generally admitted that his having obtained that order of merit, the blue _shemar_, had completely turned his head.

Realmah returned to his home in a state of the deepest depression. When he arrived there he was sent for by his uncle, the chief of the East, who reasoned with the young man in a very kindly manner. He said, “Chiefs must be chiefs. They must attend councils. They must make speeches. Their business must be the ruling over men. Work with the hands was not their work. Doubtless Realmah had some meaning in what he had done (the old Chief had a secret belief in the sagacity of his nephew); but was it worth doing at the loss of so much reputation? Years would have to pass before Realmah would stand upon the height that he had stood upon after succouring the troops in the flight from Abinamanche.”

Realmah withdrew from the old man’s presence much depressed, but not the less resolved; though, if possible, more thoroughly convinced than ever how dangerous it is for a man to be one little step in advance (in thought) of his fellow-men.

Realmah did not find much comfort at home. The Varnah had never expected that her husband would show much common sense in anything he undertook. She regretted the time he had lost and the ill-repute into which he had got as so much distinct loss of property; but she was neither particularly kind nor unkind to him. The beautiful Talora, for her part, was deeply vexed. She had married Realmah for repute’s sake; and now, all that she had got was a lame man with a damaged reputation. While they ate their meal together, she could not refrain from one or two covert sneers at him, speaking of people who thought they were wiser than others because they had odd crotchets in their minds which came to nothing. The Ainah did not say a word; but once during the meal, she stole her hand into his, and sought by a soft pressure to assure him of her entire belief in him.

It is needless to say that Realmah had by this time discovered what kind of character Talora was, and how great had been his mistake. She was a very difficult person to live with, being pre-eminently tiresome, and never useful. She would comment upon a burden, saying that it was too small or too large, or that it was put awry upon the back, or that it should not have been taken up at all; but she never lifted a little finger to assist in carrying it herself. Moreover, nothing could be done rightly that was not begun under her auspices. Shakespeare, who knew all forms of tiresomeness in men and women, has pointed out this one in the tragedy of “Julius Cæsar,” where he makes Brutus say of Cicero:

“For he will never follow anything That other men begin.”

She attained to great power in the household, for the really useful and kind-hearted Varnah, having been accustomed to be much praised for her doings, was at first astonished, then grieved, and finally rendered submissive, by Talora’s continued stream of polite depreciation. The Ainah, for Realmah’s sake, endured the caprices, and submitted patiently to the rebukes, of the wayward Talora. Realmah himself, being especially anxious not to visit the result of his own mistaken choice upon the object of that choice, was always courteous and kind to the spoilt beauty. And thus such people have their way.

Talora could be very pleasant when she was pleased, for she had some talent for social intercourse, though not of a kind adapted to domestic life.

The wives retired to their apartments, while Realmah sat motionless for hours before the fire, looking at it steadfastly as if he felt that fire was the creature which he had not yet sufficiently mastered.

The cold morning light began to break into the room when the Ainah with a soft step entered, and threw her arms round his neck. “Heed them not,” she said, “you will yet succeed. There is something in me” (she alluded to her deadly illness which she knew, but he did not) “which makes me a prophetess.”

Realmah replied, “‘One dog howls for nothing; and the whole neighbourhood is alive with howling.’ Or shall we quote another proverb, dearest Lufra?--‘The dogs bark loudly together; but a wise man speaks softly, and, not at all, except to another wise man.’ I am resolved to recommence to-morrow.” So saying, he dismissed her.