Mrs. Grundy looked as if transfixed.

"Oh," continued the cosmopolitan, laughing, "I do not deny that money
is an excellent thing. I am glad that I am not in want of it. But it
is a dangerous thing to handle. If you don't manage it well it exposes
you terribly. Great riches are like an electric light--like a noonday
sun; they reveal everything. If a man stands in a ridiculous attitude,
or is clad scantily, the intense light displays him remorselessly to
every beholder. Great riches do the same. I saw you at the Midases',
dear Mrs. Grundy. Did you ever see a more sumptuous entertainment or a
more splendid palace? What pictures and statues and vases! what
exquisite and costly decoration! what gold and glass! what Sevres and
Dresden! But the more I admired the beautiful works of art, the more I
thought of the enthusiasm and devotion of the artist, the more I was
touched by the grace and delicacy of color and form around me; and the
more I heard Midas talk, the more clearly I saw that he did not see,
or feel, or understand anything of the real value and significance of
his own _entourage_. The more beautiful it was, the more plainly it
displayed his total want of perception of beauty.

"His house is a magnificent museum. It is full of treasures. But they
all dwarf and deride him. They are so many relentless lights turned on
to show how completely he is not at home in his own house. He is as
much out of place among them as a horse in a studio. He has all the
proper books of a gentleman's library, and all superbly bound. What
does he know about them? He never read a book. He has marvellous
pictures. What does he know of pictures? He doesn't know whether
Gainsborough was a painter or a potter, or whether Giotto was a Greek
or a Roman. He has books and pictures merely because he has money