One man in this party, who was said to be worth three-quarters of a
million, had only recently worked as a common brick-layer. He is
fixed in my memory by his struggles to live up to his new
position, more especially by the efforts he would make to break
himself of certain habits of speech. He always seemed to be on his
guard lest some coarse word or phrase should escape him, and
when a foul expression eluded his vigilance he would give a start,
as if he had broken something. There was often a wistful look in
his eye, as if he wondered whether his wealth and new mode of
living were not merely a cruel practical joke. Or was he yearning
for the simpler and more natural life which he had led until two
years ago? We had many an expensive meal together, and often,
as he ate, he would say: "Oh, it's all nonsense, Mr. Levinsky. All
this fussy stuff does not come up to one spoon of my wife's
cabbage soup."
Once he said: "Do you really like champagne? I don't. You may
say I am a common, ignorant fellow, but to me it doesn't come up
to the bread cider mother used to make.
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