Where Two Roads Meet

The velvet-cushioned seat on which he sat felt very comfortable, and
the great speed at which he was being carried along was agreeable to
him. He had been busily occupied, with little rest of any kind, and
scarcely any sleep, for nearly three days; and his mind had been all the
time engrossed by the most harrowing thoughts and experiences. It was
all over now; nothing could ever again give him apprehension or anxiety;
the past was dead and never could live again; the future was arranged,
and it was simple enough: he, and the woman who had given him birth,
would sail together for Europe on Monday morning, at twelve o'clock. He
would have abundant wealth--all the property had been converted into
ready money, and would be taken with them--and he might live as
luxuriously, as sensually, as much like a pampered animal as he pleased,
or as he could. He would forget that he had a mind, or a heart, or a
soul; they had none of them served him in good stead; but he had some
reliance on his body. There were few that could compare with it in the
world, and he felt convinced that he should be able to derive a great
deal of enjoyment out of it before the time for its death and decay came
round. At all events, he was resolved that no form of indulgence to his
bodily appetites should go unproved; and when one grew stale he would
try another. With such enormous vitality and capacity to be and to
appreciate being voluptuous, he could hardly fail to avenge himself for
the hardships he had undergone thus far.