e last read The Thirty-Sixth Chapter, in which things went awry at the philanthropist’s wedding. If you have recently joined us, start with The Prologue.
The governor returned to his study and settled himself at his bureau. The wedding had been a lavish scene, the aspirations of that groom most grandiose, and yet the man was so unaware of his own hauteur. Out for the benefit of his own ego, he could hardly have noticed the detriment of his fellow man.
The governor pondered these mild provocations as he made a pipe for himself and set a match to it. The air sparkled and fizzled, the long allure of tobacco scented the room. Sitting back in his chair, he looked at the portrait above his desk. He and his wife had sat for the portrait on their wedding day with all the honor and regality they received from the Spanish Court.
He looked about the room. They lived in a modest home now, and yet it was quite amenable to their circumstances with all the furnishings befitting of that era. A fireplace warmed his skin as he enjoyed the drag of his pipe, the mantle was fitted with a brass clock, the walls paneled and adorned with gold gilded frames, a plush carpet piled high beneath his feet.
He looked at the painting again. They appeared as royalty, and yet he was an orphan. Now he was the governor of a town that was filled with orphans. Death ravaged that place and revolution pursued them. Perhaps humans were not meant to live in a place as wild as this, he thought, and yet how much worse had it been among the great civilizations of Europe.
He fell into a vision of the future. Some betterment for humanity. Some longing for peace.
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