But all this, you know, has meant much work and many worries.
Ever since the people realized that I was a little Turgot they have
grovelled before me, and that has pained me not a little. And so I have
various friends that I don't care for, and various enemies that I could
well do without. The sham poor owe me a grudge because I do not let
myself be duped by them; and there are perverse and worthless people
who think one is always doing too much for others, and never enough for
them. With all this bustle and all these bickerings, I can no longer
take my walk during the night, and my sleep during the day. I am now
Monsieur Patience, and no longer the sorcerer of Gazeau Tower; but alas!
I am a hermit no more; and, believe me, I would wish with all my heart
that I could have been born selfish, so that I might throw off my
harness, and return to my savage life and my liberty."
When Patience had given us this account of his work we complimented
him on it; but we ventured to express a doubt about his pretended
self-sacrifice; this magnificent garden seemed to indicate a compromise
with "those superfluous necessities," the use of which by others he had
always deplored.
"That?" he said, waving his arm in the direction of his inclosure. "That
does not concern me; they made it against my wishes; but, as they were
worthy folk and my refusal would have grieved them, I was obliged to
allow it.
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