The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1263: Chapter 157: Tonight’s Dinner at the Hastings Household (Part 2)

The feisty girls of Paris bluntly told him not to block the way, Fiona told him dinner would be ready soon, and the young men from Italy feared the presence of the British would ruin the kitchen’s vibe. Only Great Dumas threw him a clean cucumber from afar, suggesting he nibble on it to curb his hunger.

Arthur left the kitchen reluctantly, wandered around the living room, then headed straight to the study.

But to his surprise, the atmosphere in the study was even tenser than in the kitchen.

Two Jewish boys occupied the north and south corners of the study, each with a mortar. Judging by the room’s pervasive fragrance, their task seemed to be grinding basil, oregano, and rosemary, common kitchen spices.

Although these two gentlemen would surely deny it, Arthur saw them as the same type of people.

Firstly, both harbored great ambitions: one aspired to become Britain’s Caesar, the other wished to be Germany’s Moses, guiding the way across the sea.

Secondly, they both had a strong competitive streak and self-esteem. One dared to mock every lawmaker who underestimated him during his debut in the House of Commons, and the other was an authority in Germany on proctology.

Lastly, while pursuing ideals, both were willing to accept reality, such as being converts.

Yet, despite their similarities, the two couldn’t stand each other, indeed a peculiar affair.

”Good evening, Arthur. If not for you, I’d have thought I’d been locked in a lunatic asylum.”

”Thank you for bringing fresh air into the study. Look what I’ve discovered today: something more foul than the Thames River!”

”Oh, I understand you, Mr. Disraeli. Those who smell piles too often can’t appreciate the fragrant scent of freedom.”

”Oh, I understand you too, Dr. Heine. In a madman’s eyes, it’s the sane who seem crazy. I recommend you visit Bethlem Royal Hospital—your kind are abundant there.”

Arthur pulled up a chair and sat down: ”Alright, gentlemen, calm down. This is not the Westminster Palace hall, and you’re not the ruffian thugs who enjoy brawling there.”

Heine seized the moment to say: ”Sorry, Arthur, I mean no offense to your memory. But I must clarify for Mr. Disraeli; he is indeed part of that national crime syndicate. Though he might argue he was kidnapped into it.”

Disraeli scoffed in reply: ”Only petty minds care for trivialities; rigid thinkers lament fate, while agile minds seize opportunity decisively. That’s the difference between Arthur and me and you.”

”On that note, I agree,” countered Heine. ”However, I’d rather craft a happy home with a drop of truth, goodness, and beauty than a dull one with a shipload of furniture. Wise people advance novel ideas; fools spread them widely. I never pick easy tasks, which is another difference between Arthur and me and you.”

”I agree with your point,” retorted Disraeli. ”Yet wise folks know few expected things occur, while unexpected ones often do. Arthur and I hope for the best but prepare for the worst.”

”You’re right,” mocked Heine. ”Stars like you are clever; they wisely stay far from our world, safely high in the heavens like the world’s lanterns. And meteors like Arthur and me might fall to earth, yet we’re not disheartened by a moment’s brilliance.”

Arthur originally had no intention to engage, but Heine and Disraeli’s incessant remarks roped him in. Not fond of hanging in the sky nor falling to earth, the master of spies was displeased.

”Pardon me, but don’t you both agree with each other’s points? If so, why are you arguing?”

”Agree? That’s absurd, as ridiculous as Mr. Carter’s trilogy, which isn’t fit for discussion.”

”Arthur, I thought you had a poetic side, but now it seems you lack insight.”

Both were dissatisfied with Arthur’s view. Determined to reach a conclusion today, Disraeli and Heine demanded Arthur take a side.

”Come, tell us, isn’t it better to be a star watching over the mortal world or a meteor crashing down, leaving a dent in the ground?”

”I think Arthur’s already answered through his actions; he crashed down like a meteor.”

”Rubbish! He may have hit the ground, but that doesn’t stop him from rising again. Open the window and take a look; he’s now shining brightly over Hanover!”

With that, Disraeli swung the window open, pointed at the brightest star in the night sky outside: ”Arthur, tell him, what’s that star?”

Arthur glanced outside, shook his head, saying softly: ”That’s not a star; it’s seven stars. It’s the Big Dipper, also called the Beidou Star in the East. Benjamin, if it weren’t for learning a trick or two from Mr. Gauss at the Observatory recently, I might be stumped by your question.”