The Model Millionaire Explanation Part 2
The Model Millionaire Explanation Part 2
The Model Millionaire Oscar Wilde
Additional English Sem 1
Introduction
The short story ‘The Model Millionaire’ was written by Oscar Wilde
(1854-1900). He was a famous Irish writer. In this story Oscar Wilde describe
about a boy Hughie Erskine who was a young man of good profile. His financial
status was very low as he had no profession. He tried his hand in different
profession to earn money but was not successful. So the author referred him as
“a delightful, ineffectual young man with a perfect profile and no profession”
The Model Millionaire - Oscar Wilde Explanation part 2
The old man started, and a faint smile flitted across his
withered lips. 'Thank you, sir,' he said, 'thank you.'
Then Trevor arrived, and Hughie took his leave, blushing
a little at what he had done. He spent the day with Laura, got a charming
scolding for his extravagance, and had to walk home.
That night he strolled into the Palette Club about eleven
o'clock, and found Trevor sitting by himself in the smoking-room drinking hock
and seltzer.
'Well, Alan, did you get the picture finished all right?'
he said, as he lit his cigarette.
'Finished and framed, my boy!' answered Trevor; 'and,
by-the-bye, you have made a conquest. That old model you saw is quite devoted
to you. I had to tell him all about you - who you are, where you live, what
your income is, what prospects you have--'
'My dear Alan,' cried Hughie, 'I shall probably find him
waiting for me when I go home. But of course you are only joking. Poor old
wretch! I wish I could do something for him. I think it is dreadful that any
one should be so miserable. I have got heaps of old clothes at home - do you
think he would care for any of them? Why, his rags were falling to bits.'
'But he looks splendid in them,' said Trevor. 'I wouldn't
paint him in a frock-coat for anything. What you call rags I call romance. What
seems poverty to you is picture squeness to me. However, I'll tell him of your
offer.'
'Alan,' said Hughie seriously, 'you painters are a
heartless lot.'
'An artist's heart is his head,' replied Trevor; 'and
besides, our business is to realise the world as we see it, not to reform it as
we know it. a chacun son metier. And now tell me how Laura is. The old
model was quite interested in her.'
'You don't mean to say you talked to him about her?' said
Hughie.
'Certainly I did. He knows all about the relentless
colonel, the lovely Laura, and the £10,000.'
'You told that old beggar all my private affairs?' cried
Hughie, looking very red and angry.
'My dear boy,' said Trevor, smiling, 'that old beggar, as
you call him, is one of the richest men in Europe. He could buy all London
to-morrow without overdrawing his account. He has a house in every capital,
dines off gold plate, and can prevent Russia going to war when he chooses.'
'What on earth do you mean?' exclaimed Hughie.
'What I say,' said Trevor. 'The old man you saw to-day in
the studio was Baron Hausberg. He is a great friend of mine, buys all my
pictures and that sort of thing, and gave me a commission a month ago to paint
him as a beggar. Que voulez-vous? La fantaisie d'un millionnaire! And I
must say he made a magnificent figure in his rags, or perhaps I should say in
my rags; they are an old suit I got in Spain.'
'Baron Hausberg!' cried Hughie. 'Good heavens! I gave him
a sovereign!' and he sank into an armchair the picture of dismay.
'Gave him a sovereign!' shouted Trevor, and he burst into
a roar of laughter. 'My dear boy, you'll never see it again. Son affaire
c'est l'argent des autres.'
'I think you might have told me, Alan,' said Hughie
sulkily, 'and not have let me make such a fool of myself.'
'Well, to begin with, Hughie,' said Trevor, 'it never
entered my mind that you went about distributing alms in that reckless way. I
can understand your kissing a pretty model, but your giving a sovereign to an
ugly one - by Jove, no! Besides, the fact is that I really was not at home
to-day to any one; and when you came in I didn't know whether Hausberg would
like his name mentioned. You know he wasn't in full dress.'
'What a duffer he must think me!' said Hughie.
'Not at all. He was in the highest spirits after you
left; kept chuckling to himself and rubbing his old wrinkled hands together. I
couldn't make out why he was so interested to know all about you; but I see it
all now. He'll invest your sovereign for you, Hughie, pay you the interest
every six months, and have a capital story to tell after dinner.'
'I am an unlucky devil,' growled Hughie. 'The best thing
I can do is to go to bed; and, my dear Alan, you mustn't tell any one. I
shouldn't dare show my face in the Row.'
'Nonsense! It reflects the highest credit on your
philanthropic spirit, Hughie. And don't run away. Have another cigarette, and
you can talk about Laura as much as you like.'
However, Hughie wouldn't stop, but walked home, feeling
very unhappy, and leaving Alan Trevor in fits of laughter.
The next morning, as he was at breakfast, the servant
brought him up a card on which was written, 'Monsieur Gustave Naudin, de la
part de M. le Baron Hausberg.'
'I suppose he has come for an apology,' said Hughie to
himself; and he told the servant to show the visitor up.
An old gentleman with gold spectacles and grey hair came
into the room, and said, in a slight French accent, 'Have I the honour of
addressing Monsieur Erskine?'
Hughie bowed.
'I have come from Baron Hausberg,' he continued. 'The
Baron--'
'I beg, sir, that you will offer him my sincerest
apologies,' stammered Hughie.
'The Baron,' said the old gentleman, with a smile, 'has
commissioned me to bring you this letter;' and he extended a sealed envelope.
On the outside was written, 'A wedding present to Hugh
Erskine and Laura Merton, from an old beggar,' and inside was a cheque for
£10,000.
When they were married Alan Trevor was the best-man, and
the Baron made a speech at the wedding-breakfast.
'Millionaire models,' remarked Alan, 'are rare enough;
but, by Jove, model millionaires are rarer still!'
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