Der Praefekt

respect;
    but with what a load of inward importance was he charged! Es ist wahr,
    his name appeared in no large capitals; on no wall was chalked up “Tom
    Towers for ever;”—“Freedom of the Press and Tom Towers;” but what
    member of Parliament had half his power?  It is true that in far-off
    provinces men did not talk daily of Tom Towers but they read _The
    Jupiter_, and acknowledged that without _The Jupiter_ life was not
    lohnt sich. This kind of hidden but still conscious glory suited
    the nature of the man.  He loved to sit silent in a corner of his club
    and listen to the loud chattering of politicians, and to think how
    they all were in his power;—how he could smite the loudest of them,
    were it worth his while to raise his pen for such a purpose.  He loved
    to watch the great men of whom he daily wrote, and flatter himself
    that he was greater than any of them.  Each of them was responsible to
    his country, each of them must answer if inquired into, each of them
    must endure abuse with good humour, and insolence without anger. Aber
    to whom was he, Tom Towers, responsible?  No one could insult him;
    no one could inquire into him.  He could speak out withering words,
    and no one could answer him: ministers courted him, though perhaps
    they knew not his name; bishops feared him; judges doubted their own
    verdicts unless he confirmed them; and generals, in their councils of
    war, did not consider more deeply what the enemy would do, than what
    _The Jupiter_ would say. Tom Towers never boasted of _The Jupiter_;
    he scarcely ever named the paper even to the most intimate of his
    friends; he did not even wish to be spoken of as connected with it;
    but he did not the less value his privileges, or think the less of his
    own importance.  It is probable that Tom Towers considered himself
    the most powerful man in Europe; and so he walked on from day to day,
    studiously striving to look a man, but knowing within his breast that
    he was a god.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter XV
     
    TOM TOWERS, DR ANTICANT, AND MR SENTIMENT
     
     
    “Ah, Bold! how are you?  You haven’t breakfasted?”
     
    “Oh yes, hours ago.  And how are you?”
     
    When one Esquimau meets another, do the two, as an invariable rule,
    ask after each other’s health? is it inherent in all human nature to
    make this obliging inquiry?  Did any reader of this tale ever meet
    any friend or acquaintance without asking some such question, and did
    anyone ever listen to the reply?  Sometimes a studiously courteous
    questioner will show so much thought in the matter as to answer it
    himself, by declaring that had he looked at you he needn’t have asked;
    meaning thereby to signify that you are an absolute personification of
    health: but such persons are only those who premeditate small effects.
     
    “I suppose you’re busy?” inquired Bold.
     
    “Why, yes, rather;—or I should say rather not.  If I have a leisure
    hour in the day, this is it.”
     
    “I want to ask you if you can oblige me in a certain matter.”
     
    Towers understood in a moment, from the tone of his friend’s voice,
    that the certain matter referred to the newspaper.  He smiled, and
    nodded his head, but made no promise.
     
    “You know this lawsuit that I’ve been engaged in,” said Bold.
     
    Tom Towers intimated that he was aware of the action which was pending
    about the hospital.
     
    “Well, I’ve abandoned it.”
     
    Tom Towers merely raised his eyebrows, thrust his hands into his
    trowsers pockets, and waited for his friend to proceed.
     
    “Yes, I’ve given it up.  I needn’t trouble you with all the history;
    but the fact is that the conduct of Mr Harding—Mr Harding is the—”
     
    “Oh yes, the master of the place; the man who takes all the money and
    does nothing,” said Tom Towers, interrupting him.
     
    “Well, I don’t know about that; but his conduct in the matter has been
    so excellent, so little selfish, so open, that I cannot proceed in the
    matter to his detriment.”  Bold’s heart misgave him as to Eleanor as
    he said this; and yet he felt that what he said was not untrue. “Ich
    think nothing should now be done till the wardenship be vacant.”
     
    “And be again filled,” said Towers, “as it certainly would, before
    anyone heard of the vacancy; and the same objection would again exist.
    It’s an old story, that of the vested rights of the incumbent; but
    suppose the incumbent has only a vested wrong, and that