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the headless man。
〃Your poor gr…ndm…ther was right just now； when she said she was
not my first love。 'Twas one of those banale expressions〃 （here
Mr。 P。 blushed once more） 〃which we use to women。 We tell each she
is our first passion。 They reply with a similar illusory formula。
No man is any woman's first love； no woman any man's。 We are in
love in our nurse's arms； and women coquette with their eyes before
their tongue can form a word。 How could your lovely relative love
me？ I was far； far too old for her。 I am older than I look。 I am
so old that you would not believe my age were I to tell you。 I
have loved many and many a woman before your relative。 It has not
always been fortunate for them to love me。 Ah； Sophronia！ Round
the dreadful circus where you fell； and whence I was dragged
corpselike by the heels； there sat multitudes more savage than the
lions which mangled your sweet form！ Ah； tenez！ when we marched to
the terrible stake together at Valladolidthe Protestant and the
J But away with memory！ Boy！ it was happy for thy grandam that
she loved me not。
〃During that strange period；〃 he went on； 〃when the teeming Time
was great with the revolution that was speedily to be born； I was
on a mission in Paris with my excellent； my maligned friend；
Cagliostro。 Mesmer was one of our band。 I seemed to occupy but an
obscure rank in it： though； as you know； in secret societies the
humble man may be a chief and directorthe ostensible leader but a
puppet moved by unseen hands。 Never mind who was chief； or who was
second。 Never mind my age。 It boots not to tell it： why shall I
expose myself to your scornful incredulityor reply to your
questions in words that are familiar to you； but which you cannot
understand？ Words are symbols of things which you know； or of
things which you don't know。 If you don't know them； to speak is
idle。〃 （Here I confess Mr。 P。 spoke for exactly thirty…eight
minutes； about physics； metaphysics； language； the origin and
destiny of man； during which time I was rather bored； and to
relieve my ennui； drank a half glass or so of wine。） 〃LOVE；
friend； is the fountain of youth！ It may not happen to me once
once in an age： but when I love then I am young。 I loved when I
was in Paris。 Bathilde； Bathilde； I loved theeah； how fondly！
Wine； I say； more wine！ Love is ever young。 I was a boy at the
little feet of Bathilde de Bechamelthe fair； the fond； the
fickle； ah； the false！〃 The strange old man's agony was here
really terrific； and he showed himself much more agitated than when
he had been speaking about my gr…ndm…th…r。
〃I thought Blanche might love me。 I could speak to her in the
language of all countries； and tell her the lore of all ages。 I
could trace the nursery legends which she loved up to their
Sanscrit source； and whisper to her the darkling mysteries of the
Egyptian Magi。 I could chant for her the wild chorus that rang in
the disheveled Eleusinian revel： I could tell her and I would； the
watchword never known but to one woman； the Saban Queen； which
Hiram breathed in the abysmal ear of SolomonYou don't attend。
Psha！ you have drunk too much wine！〃 Perhaps I may as well own
that I was NOT attending； for he had been carrying on for about
fifty…seven minutes； and I don't like a man to have ALL the talk to
himself。
〃Blanche de Bechamel was wild； then； about this secret of Masonry。
In early； early days I loved； I married a girl fair as Blanche；
who； too； was tormented by curiosity； who； too； would peep into my
closet； into the only secret guarded from her。 A dreadful fate
befell poor Fatima。 An ACCIDENT shortened her life。 Poor thing！
she had a foolish sister who urged her on。 I always told her to
beware of Ann。 She died。 They said her brothers killed me。 A
gross falsehood。 AM I dead？ If I were； could I pledge you in this
wine？〃
〃Was your name；〃 I asked； quite bewildered； 〃was your name； pray；
then； ever Blueb？〃
〃Hush！ the waiter will overhear you。 Methought we were speaking of
Blanche de Bechamel。 I loved her； young man。 My pearls； and
diamonds； and treasure； my wit； my wisdom； my passion； I flung them
all into the child's lap。 I was a fool。 Was strong Samson not as
weak as I？ Was Solomon the Wise much better when Balkis wheedled
him？ I said to the kingBut enough of that； I spake of Blanche de
Bechamel。
〃Curiosity was the poor child's foible。 I could see； as I talked
to her； that her thoughts were elsewhere （as yours； my friend； have
been absent once or twice to…night）。 To know the secret of Masonry
was the wretched child's mad desire。 With a thousand wiles；
smiles； caresses； she strove to coax it from mefrom MEha！ ha！
〃I had an apprenticethe son of a dear friend； who died by my side
at Rossbach； when Soubise； with whose army I happened to be；
suffered a dreadful defeat for neglecting my advice。 The Young
Chevalier Goby de Mouchy was glad enough to serve as my clerk； and
help in some chemical experiments in which I was engaged with my
friend Dr。 Mesmer。 Bathilde saw this young man。 Since women were；
has it not been their business to smile and deceive； to fondle and
lure？ Away！ From the very first it has been so！〃 And as my
companion spoke； he looked as wicked as the serpent that coiled
round the tree； and hissed a poisoned counsel to the first woman。
〃One evening I went； as was my wont； to see Blanche。 She was
radiant： she was wild with spirits： a saucy triumph blazed in her
blue eyes。 She talked； she rattled in her childish way。 She
uttered； in the course of her rhapsody； a hintan intimationso
terrible that the truth flashed across me in a moment。 Did I ask
her？ She would lie to me。 But I knew how to make falsehood
impossible。 And I ordered her to go to sleep。〃
At this moment the clock （after its previous convulsions） sounded
TWELVE。 And as the new Editor* of the Cornhill Magazineand HE； I
promise you； won't stand any nonsensewill only allow seven pages；
I am obliged to leave off at THE VERY MOST INTERESTING POINT OF THE
STORY。
* Mr。 Thackeray retired from the Editorship of the Cornhill
Magazine in March； 1862
III
〃Are you of our fraternity？ I see you are not。 The secret which
Mademoiselle de Bechamel confided to me in her mad triumph and wild
hoyden spiritsshe was but a child； poor thing； poor thing； scarce
fifteen；but I love them younga folly not unusual with the old！〃
（Here Mr。 Pinto thrust his knuckles into his hollow eyes； and； I am
sorry to say； so little regardful was he of personal cleanliness；
that his tears made streaks of white over his guarled dark hands。）
〃Ah； at fifteen； poor child； thy fate was terrible！ Go to！ It is
not good to love me； friend。 They prosper not who do。 I divine
you。 You need not say what you are thinking〃
In truth； I was thinking； if girls fall in love with this sallow；
hook…nosed； glass…eyed； wooden…legged； dirty； hideous old man； with
the sham teeth； they have a queer taste。 THAT is what I was
thinking。
〃Jack Wilkes said the handsomest man in London had but half an
hour's start of him。 And； without vanity； I am scarcely uglier
than Jack Wilkes。 We were members of the same club at Medenham
Abbey； Jack and I； and had many a merry night together。 Well； sir；
IMary of Scotland knew me but as a little hunchbacked music
master； and yet； and yet； I think she was not indifferent to her
David Rizand SHE came to misfortune。 They all dothey all do！〃
〃Sir； you are wandering from your point！〃 I said； with some
severity。 For； really； for this old humbug to hint that he had
been the baboon who frightened the club at Medenham； that he had
been in the Inquisition at Valladolidthat under the name of D。
Riz； as he called it； he had known the lovely Queen of Scotswas a
LITTLE too much。 〃Sir；〃 then I said； 〃you were speaking about a
Miss Bechamel。 I really have not time to hear all of your
biography。〃
〃Faith； the good wine gets into my head。〃 （I should think so； the
old toper！ Four bottles all but two glasses。） 〃To return to poor
Blanche。 As I sat laughing； joking with her； she let slip a word；
a little word； which filled me with dismay。 Some one had told her
a part of the Secretthe secret which has been divulged scarce
thrice in three thousand yearsthe Secret of the Freemasons。 Do
you know what happens to those uninitiate who learn that secret？ to
those wretched men； the initiate who reveal it？〃
As Pinto spoke to me； he looked through and through me with his
horrible piercing glance； so that I sat quite uneasily on my bench。
He continued： 〃Did I question her awake？ I knew she would lie to
me。 Poor child！ I loved her no less because I did not believe a
word she said。 I loved her blue eye； her golden hair； her
delicious voice； that was true in song； though when she spoke；
false as Eblis！ You are aware that I p