There was a joke against little Val when he was a boy of seven. Some
playmates had insisted upon his walking into a pond, and standing there.
Poor Val, quite unable to say "no," walked in, and was nearly drowned for
his pains. It had been a joke against him then; how many such "jokes"
could have been brought against him since he grew up, Val himself could
alone tell. As the child had been, so was the man. The scrapes his
irresolution brought him into he did not care to glance at; and whilst
only too well aware of his one lamentable deficiency, he was equally
aware that he was powerless to stand against it.
People, in speaking of this, called it "Elster's Folly." His extreme
sensitiveness as to the feelings of other people, whether equals or
inferiors, was, in a degree, one of the causes of this yielding nature;
and he would almost rather have died than offer any one a personal
offence, an insulting word or look. There are such characters in the
world; none can deny that they are amiable; but, oh, how unfit to battle
with life!
Mr. Elster walked slowly through the village on his way to Hartledon,
whose inmates he would presently take by surprise. It was about twenty
months since he had been there. He had left Hartledon at the close of the
last winter but one; an appointment having been obtained for him as an
_attache_ to the Paris embassy. Ten months of service, and some scrape he
fell into caused him (a good deal of private interest was brought to bear
in the matter) to be removed to Vienna; but he had not remained there
very long.
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