Czytaj książkę: «The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume I», strona 28

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE CONCLUSION OF A “GRAND DINNER.”

LADY HESTER’S dinner of that day was a “grand one,” that is to say, it was one of those great displays which, from time to time, are offered up as sacrifices to the opinion of the world. Few of her own peculiar set were present. Some she omitted herself; others had begged off of their own accord. Midchekoff, however, was there; for, however accustomed to the tone and habits of a life of mere dissipation, he possessed every requirement for mixing with general society. It was true he was not fond of meeting “Royal Highnesses,” before whom his own equivocal rank sank into insignificance; nor did he love “Cardinals,” whose haughty pretensions always over-topped every other nobility. To oblige Lady Hester, however, he did come, and condescended, for “the nonce,” to assume his most amiable of moods. The Marchesa Guardoni, an old coquette of the days of the French Empire, but now a rigid devotee, and a most exclusive moralist; a few elderly diplomates, of a quiet and cat-like smoothness of manner, with certain notabilities of the Court, made up the party. There were no English whatever; Jekyl, who made out the list, well knowing that Florence offered none of a rank sufficiently distinguished, except Norwood, whose temporary absence from the city was rather a boon than the reverse; for the noble Viscount, when not “slang,” was usually silent, and, by long intercourse with the Turf and its followers, had ceased to feel any interest in topics which could not end in a wager.

The entertainment was very splendid. Nothing was wanting which luxury or taste could contribute. The wines were delicious; the cookery perfect. The guests were courteous and pleasing; but all was of the quietest, none of the witty sallies, the piquant anecdotes, the brilliant repartees, which usually pattered like hail around that board. Still less were heard those little histories of private life where delinquencies furnish all the interest. The royal guest imposed a reserve which the presence of the Cardinal deepened. The conversation, like the cuisine, was flavored for fine palates; both were light, suggestive, and of easy digestion. Events were discussed rather than the actors in them. All was ease and simplicity; but it was a stately kind of simplicity, which served to chill those that were unaccustomed to it. So Kate Dalton felt it; and however sad the confession, we must own that she greatly preferred the free and easy tone of Lady Hester’s midnight receptions to the colder solemnity of these distinguished guests.

Even to the Cardinal’s whist-table, everything wore a look of state and solemnity. The players laid down their cards with a measured gravity, and scored their honors with the air of men discharging a high and important function. As for the Archduke, he sat upon a sofa beside Lady Hester, suffering himself to be amused by the resources of her small-talk, bowing blandly at times, occasionally condescending to a smile, but rarely uttering even a monosyllable. Even that little social warmth that was kindled by the dinner-table seemed to have been chilled by the drawing-room, where the conversation was maintained in a low, soft tone, that never rose above a murmur. It may be, perhaps, some sort of consolation to little folk to think that Princes are generally sad-looking. The impassable barrier of reserve around them, if it protect from all the rubs and frictions of life, equally excludes from much of its genial enjoyment; and all those little pleasantries which grow out of intimacy are denied those who have no equals.

It was in some such meditation as this Kate Dalton sat, roused occasionally to bestow a smile or a passing word of acknowledgment in return for some of those little morsels of compliment and flattery which old courtiers pay as their rightful tribute to a young and handsome woman. She was sufficiently accustomed to this kind of homage to accept it without losing, even for an instant, any train of thought her mind was pursuing. Nor did the entrance of any new guest, a number of whom had been invited for the evening, distract her from her half revery.

The salons, without being crowded, now showed a numerous company, all of whom exhibited in their demeanor that respectful reserve the presence of royalty ever inspires. It seemed, indeed, as though all the conversation that went forward was like a mere “aside” to that more important dialogue which was maintained beside the Prince.

A slow but measured tide of persons passed before him, bowing with respectful deference as they went. With some he deigned to speak a few words, others had a smile or a little nod of recognition, and some again one of those cold and vacant stares with which great people are occasionally wont to regard little ones. His Royal Highness was not one of those accomplished princes whose pride it is to know the name, the family, the pursuits, and predilections of each new presentee. On the contrary, he was absent, and forgetful to a degree scarcely credible; his want of memory betraying him into innumerable mistakes, from which, even had he known, no adroitness of his own could have extricated him. On this evening he had not been peculiarly fortunate; he had complimented a minister who had just received his recall in disgrace; he had felicitated a young lady on her approaching marriage, which had been broken off; while the burden of his talk to Lady Hester was in disparagement of those foreigners who brought a scandal upon his court by habits and manners which would not be tolerated in their own countries. Divorce, or even separation, met his heavy reprobation; and while his code of morality, on the whole, exhibited very merciful dispositions, he bestowed unmitigated severity upon all that could shock the world’s opinion.

To this Lady Hester had to listen as best she might, a task not the less trying and difficult from the ill-suppressed looks of malice and enjoyment she saw on every side. From all these causes put together, the occasion, however flattering to her vanity, was far from being pleasurable to her feelings, and she longed for it to be over. The Prince looked wearied enough, but somehow there is nothing like royalty for endurance; their whole lives would seem to teach the lesson, and so he sat on, saying a stray word, bowing with half-closed lids, and looking as though very little more would set him fast asleep.

It was the very culminating point of the whole evening’s austerity; one of those little pauses which now and then occur had succeeded to the murmur of conversation. The whist party had been broken up, and the Cardinal was slowly advancing up the room, the company, even to the ladies, rising respectfully as he passed, when the folding-doors were thrown wide, and a servant announced Mr. Scroope Purvis.

If the name was unknown to the assembled guests, there was one there at least who heard it with a sensation of actual terror, and poor Kate Dalton sank back into her chair with a kind of instinctive effort at concealment. By this time the door had closed behind him, leaving Mr. Purvis standing with an expression of no small bewilderment at the gorgeous assembly into which he had intruded.

Lady Hester’s quick ear had caught the name, even from the furthest end of the room; but while she attributed it to the mispronunciations of which foreign servants are so liberal, looked out with some curiosity for him who owned it.

Nor had she to look long, for, his first moment of surprise over, Purvis put up his double eye-glass and commenced a tour of the rooms, in that peculiarly scrutinizing way for which he was distinguished. The fact that all the faces were unknown to him seemed to impart additional courage to his investigations, for he stared about with as little concern as he might have done in a theatre.

Most men in his situation would have been egoist enough to have thought only of themselves and the awkwardness of their own position. Purvis, on the contrary, had an eye for everything; from the chandeliers on the walls to the crosses on the dress-coats, from the decorations of the salons to the diamonds, he missed nothing; and with such impartial fairness did he bestow his glances, that the Cardinal’s cheeks grew red as his own stockings as Scroope surveyed him. ‘At last he reached the end of the great drawing-room, and found himself standing in front of the canopied seat where the Archduke sat with Lady Hester. Not heeding, if he even remarked, the little circle which etiquette had drawn in front of the Prince, Purvis advanced within the charmed precincts and stared steadily at the Duke.

“I perceive that one of your friends is most anxious to pay his respects to you, Lady Hester,” said the Prince, with a very peculiar smile.

“I beg to assure you, sir, that the gentleman is unknown to me; his presence here is an honor for which I am totally unprepared.”

“My name is Purvis, madam, Sc-Sc-Scroope Purvis. Miss Dalton knows me; and my sister is Mrs. Ricketts.”

“You will find Miss Dalton yonder, sir,” said Lady Hester, all whose efforts were barely sufficient to restrain her temper.

“I see her!” cried Purvis, putting his glass up; “but she ‘s trying to escape me. She ‘s got a man with a re-re-red beard before her, but it won’t do, I’m too sh-sh-sharp for that.”

The Archduke laughed, and heartily, too, at this sally; and Purvis, emboldened by the complaisance, edged more closely towards him to point out the lady in question. “She has a droll kind of sc-sc-scarf in her hair. There! don’t you see her now? Have you ever seen the pictures in the Pitti Palace?”

The question was a little startling, as the personage to whom it was addressed had his residence there. The Archduke, however, merely bowed in acquiescence, and Purvis went on: “My sister Zoe copied one and I like it better than the Ti-Tit-Titian itself. We smoked it, too, and made it look so brown, you’d never guess it to be mo-mo-mo-modern.”

To judge from the bewildered look of the Duke, the whole of this speech was pure Chaldee to him; and when he turned to Lady Hester for an explanation, he discovered that she had left her seat. Whether mistaking the motion as an invitation to be seated, or merely acting by his own impulses, Scroope crossed over and sat down on the sofa with a degree of self-satisfaction that lighted up all his features.

“You ‘re not one of the fa-family, are you?” asked he.

“I have not that honor,” said the Prince, with a bow.

“I thought not. I suspected that there was a tw-tw-twang in your English that looked foreign, but I know your face quite well.”

The Duke bowed again.

“Pretty rooms, these,” said Purvis, with his glass to his eye; “what a d-d-deal of money they must have cost! They ‘re going it fast, these Onslows.”

“Indeed!” said the Prince, who only half understood the remark.

“I know it,” said Scroope, with a confidential wink. “Their butcher se-se-serves us, and he won’t give anything till they have sent their orders; and as for wine, they drink Bordeaux in the servants’ hall. I don’t know what you have, but a d-d-deuced sight better than ever I get.”

“Good wine, however, can be had here, I hope,” said the Duke, blandly.

“Yes, if you sm-sm-smuggle it,” said Scroope, with a knowing cackle; while, to add poignancy to the remark, he nudged the Prince with his elbow. “That’s the only way to have it. The st-stupid Government sees nothing.”

“Is that the case, sir?” asked the Prince, with a degree of interest he had not manifested before.

“To be sure it is. My sister Zoe never pays duty on anything; and if you like your c-c-cigars cheap, just t-t-tell me, that ‘s all. The G-G-Grand-Duke never got a sixpence of my money yet, and if I kn-know myself, he never shall.”

“Do you bear him any grudge, sir, that you say this so emphatically?”

“No; not at all. They tell me that he’s good-hearted, although somewhat we-weak in the a-a-attic story,” and here Scroope tapped his forehead significantly, “but that ‘s in the family. My sister Zoe could tell you such st-stories about them you ‘d die of laughing; and then there ‘s Jekyl takes them off so well! It’s c-c-capital fun. He gives a dia-dia-dialogue between the Grand-Duke and the Pope’s Nuncio that’s better than a farce.”

How far Mr. Purvis might have been carried in his zeal to be agreeable there is no saying, when Lady Hester came up, with Kate leaning on her arm.

“This gentleman claims acquaintance with you, Miss Dalton,” said she, haughtily.

“Oh, to be sure, she knows me; and I have a letter from her her fa-father,” said Purvis, drawing forth a packet like a postman’s.

“Miss Dalton would prefer being seated, sir,” said Lady Hester, while she motioned towards another part of the room.

“Yes, yes, of course; we’ll find out a snug co-corner somewhere for a chat. Just take my arm, will you? Let us get away from all these great ‘Dons,’ with their stars and crosses.” And, without waiting for Kate’s reply, he drew her arm within his own, and set out in that little shuffling trot which he always assumed when he fancied he had business on hand.

The ridicule of being associated with such a companion would at any other moment have overwhelmed Kate Dalton with shame; but now, whether from the few words which Lady Hester had whispered in her ear, whether the fact of his unauthorized appearance, or whether it were the dread of some greater disgrace to follow, she actually felt a sense of relief in the continuous flow of twaddle which he kept up as they passed down the room.

“Who was that smiled as we passed?” asked he.

“Prince Midchekoff.”

“Oh, that was he, was it? You must introduce me.”

“Not now, pray, not now; at any other time,” cried she, in perfect terror.

“Well, but don’t forget it. Zoe would never forgive me if I told her that I lost the op-op-opportunity; she wants to know him so very much.”

“Of course, at another time,” said Kate, hurrying him along with increasing speed.

“Who’s he?” asked Purvis, as a tall and stately personage bowed blandly to Kate.

“The Austrian Minister.”

“Not the fellow that st-st-strangled the Emperor? Oh, I forgot; he was a Russian, wasn’t he? They got him down and ch-ch-choked him, ha, ha, ha! There ‘s a man with a red moustache, so like the fellow who sells the boubou-bouquets at the Casciui.”

“A Hungarian magnate,” whispered Kate.

“Is he, though? Then let’s have another look at him. He has as many gold chains about him as a shop on the Ponte Vecchio. Zoe would like him, he ‘s so odd.”

At last, but not without great efforts, Kate succeeded in reaching a small chamber, where two others already were seated, and whose figures were undistinguishable in the obscurity of a studiously shaded lamp.

“Isn’t it strange, she never asked for Zoe?” said Purvis, as he took his seat on a sofa; “not to inquire for a person sick under her own r-r-roof?”

“Lady Hester is not acquainted with Mrs. Ricketts.”

“Well, but sh-sh-she ought to be. Zoe made a party for her, a d-d-d-iner party, and had Hagg-Haggerstone and Foglass, and the rest of them. And after all, you know, they are only b-bankers, these Onslows, and need n’t give themselves airs.”

“You have a letter for me, Mr. Purvis? Will you pardon my impatience – ”

“Yes, to be sure. I ‘ve a letter, and an enclosure in it, too; at least, it feels crisp like a note, a bank-note; that ‘s the reason you ‘re impatient. Perhaps the re-reremittance was long a-coming, eh?”

Kate made no reply to this speech, but her cheek grew scarlet as she heard it.

Purvis, meanwhile, spread his packet of papers before him, and began his search for Dalton’s letter.

“No, that ain’t it; that’s from Foglass, all about Norwood, and his N-N-Newmarket affair. That ‘s a letter from Lord Gullston’s valet, with such a droll ac-account of the whole family. Zoe recom-mended him; and the poor fellow ‘s very grateful, for he writes about all that goes on in the house. Lady G., it seems, has the temper of a f-f-fiend. Well, don’t be im-impatient; I’ll find your father’s letter in a minute. He writes such a cr-cr-cramp old hand, one should detect it at once. I ta-take it that he ‘s a bit of a character, the old gen-gentleman. I ‘m sure he is; but what have I done with his letter? Oh, here it is! here it is! and ‘with haste’ written on the corner, too.”

Kate caught the letter impatiently, and, without any thought for Purvis or the place, tore it open at once. In doing so, the enclosure fell to the ground without her perceiving it; and, stranger still, it escaped the attention of Purvis; but that worthy man, not exactly venturing to read over her shoulder, had established himself directly in front, where, with his double eye-glass, he scanned every change in her features during the perusal.

“All well at home, I hope, eh? How she changes color,” muttered he to himself. “Nobody ill; nobody dead, eh?” asked he, louder. “It must be something serious, though; she ‘s trembling like ague. Let me give you a chair, that is, if I can f-find one in this little den; they ‘ve got nothing but d-divans all round it.” And he hurried forth into the larger salon in search of a seat.

It was not without considerable trouble to himself and inconvenience to various others that he at last succeeded, and returned to the boudoir with a massive arm-chair in his hands. But what was his dismay to find that Miss Dalton had made her escape in the mean while? In vain did he seek her through the salons, which now were rapidly thinning; the distinguished guests having already departed.

A stray group lingered here and there, conversing in a low tone; and around the fires were gathered little knots of ladies muffled and cloaked, and only waiting for the carriages. It was like a stage, when the performance was over. Scarcely deigning to notice the little man, who, with palpable keenness of scrutiny, pursued his search in every quarter, they gradually moved off, leaving Purvis alone to tread the “banquet-hall deserted.” The servants, as they extinguished the lights, passed and repassed him without remark; so that, defeated and disappointed, he was obliged at last to retire, sorrowfully confessing to his own heart how little success had attended his bold enterprise.

As he passed along the galleries and descended the stairs, he made various little efforts to open a conversation with some one or other of the servants; but these dignified officials responded to his questions in the dryest and shortest manner; and it was only as he reached the great gate of the palace that he chanced upon one courteous enough to hear him to the end in his oft-repeated question of “Who was th-th-that with the large st-st-star on his breast, and a wh-wh-white beard?”

The porter stared at the speaker, and said respectfully, “The signor probably means the Archduke?”

“Not the Archduke Fr-Fr-Fr – ”

“Yes, sir,” said the man; and closed the heavy door after him, leaving Purvis in a state of astonishment, and as much shame as his nature permitted him to feel. Neither upon himself nor his sensations have we any intention to dwell; and leaving him to pursue his way homeward, we beg to return once more within those walls from which he had just taken his departure.

If Lady Hester’s grand company had gone, the business of the evening was by no means over; on the contrary, it was the hour of her night receptions, and now the accustomed guests of those favored precincts came dropping in from theatres, and operas, and late dinners. These men of pleasure looked jaded and tired, as usual; and, except the little tinkling sounds of Jekyl’s small treble, no other voice sounded as they walked along the corridors.

When they entered Lady Hester’s boudoir, they found that lady recounting to Midchekoff the whole circumstances of the morning’s adventure, a recital which she continued without other interruption than a smile or a nod, or a little gesture of the hand to each of the new arrivals as he came in. If the lady’s manner was devoid of all ceremony, that of the gentlemen was less ceremonious still; for they stretched themselves on divans, rested their legs upon chairs, and stood back to the fire, with a degree of careless ease that bespoke them thoroughly at home, Jekyl, perhaps, the only one present who mingled with this freedom a certain courteous respect that no familiarity made him ever forget.

“And they are still here?” asked the Prince. “Actually in the house at this moment?”

“At this very moment!” responded she, emphatically.

“The whole thing passes belief,” exclaimed he.

And now the listless loungers drew their chairs closer to hear the story, and laugh, as men do, who are seldom moved to mirth save when ridicule or malice are the provocatives.

“But you haven’t heard the worst yet,” said Midchekoff. “Pray tell them of your visitor of this evening.”

And Lady Hester narrated the appearance of Mr. Purvis, who, having secured his entrance by a visit to his sister, had so unceremoniously presented himself in the drawing-room.

“Heaven knows what he said to his Royal Highness when I was away. To judge from his face, it must have been something atrocious; and the last thing he said on leaving was, ‘I must try and not forget your agreeable friend’s name.’”

“You might as well have invited me as have had your ‘friend’ Purvis, after all,” said a young Italian noble, whose political opinions found no favor at court.

“But what do you mean to do, my Lady?” asked Midchekoff. “Is the enemy to hold undisputed possession of the fortress?”

“It is precisely on that point I want advice. Prince.”

“What if we form ourselves into a council of state?” said an Austrian general.

“By all means,” said the others, who now formed a semicircle in front of Lady Hester’s sofa.

“The youngest officer always speaks first,” said the Austrian.

“Then that duty is mine,” said a little man of about eighty-two or three, and who had represented France at half the courts of Europe. “I should advise a protocol in the form of a protest. It is a palpable invasion of territory, but, followed by an ample apology and a speedy evacuation, may be forgiven. There are historical warrants for such transgressions being accepted as acts almost of compulsion.”

“The case of Anspach, for instance,” said the Austrian, with a malicious smile.

“Precisely, General, precisely a case in point,” rejoined the old diplomate, with a bow and a smile that almost seemed grateful. “The shortest road to victory is ever the best.”

“Let’s try a fever, or a fire. By Jove! the sacrifice of a few chairs and window-curtains would be a cheap alternative,” said George Onslow.

“Why not essay a compromise, my Lady?” interposed a young German secretary of legation; “a mixed garrison, like that of Rastadt?”

“Lady Hester’s troops to mount guard alternately with the Rickettses’. Downright treason, base treason!” exclaimed another.

“What would you think of a special mission, my Lady?” simpered Jekyl. “It would at least serve to enlighten us as to the views of the enemy. The discussion of the past often throws much light on the future.”

“Jekyl wants to earn a decoration,” said another, laughing. “He intends to be the envoy himself.”

“I’ll wager that I know Midchekoff’s policy,” said a young Sicilian, who always spoke with a frank fearlessness that is most rare with other Italians.

“Well, let us hear it,” said the Prince, gravely.

“You would counsel the national expedient of retiring before the enemy, and making the country too cold to hold them?”

“How absurd!” said Lady Hester, half angrily; “give up one’s house to a set of people who have had the impertinence to intrude themselves unasked?”

“And yet Giasconi is right,” said the Prince. “It is the best suggestion we have heard yet. Hostilities imply, to a certain extent, equality; negotiation is an acknowledgment of acquaintanceship; a dignified retreat, however, avoids either difficulty.”

“In that case, let ‘s starve them out,” said George. “Suffer no supplies to be thrown into the place, and exact the most humble terms of submission.”

“Then, where to go? that ‘s another question,” said Lady Hester.

“His Eminence expects to see you in Rome,” whispered the Abbe, who had waited for an opportunity for the suggestion. “I believe he relies on a promise.”

“Very true; but not just yet. Besides, the season is almost over,” said Lady Hester, with a slight degree of confusion.

“Don’t be frightened, Abbe,” whispered Jekyl in D’Esmonde’s ear. “Her Ladyship is assuredly ‘going to Rome’ later on.”

The priest smiled, with an expression that told how fully he comprehended the phrase.

“There ‘s a little villa of mine, on the Lake of Como, very much at your service,” said Midchekoff, with the easy indifference of one suggesting something perfectly indifferent to him.

“Do you mean La Rocca, Prince?” added the Sicilian.

“Yes. They tell me it is prettily situated, but I ‘ve never seen it. The Empress passed a few weeks there last year, and liked it,” said Midchekoff, languidly.

“Really, Prince, if I don’t know how to accept, I am still more at a loss for power to refuse your offer.”

“When will you go?” said he, dryly, and taking out his memorandum-book to write.

“What says Mr. Jekyl?” said Lady Hester, turning to that bland personage, who, without apparently attending to what went forward, had heard every syllable of it.

“This is Tuesday,” said Jekyl. “There ‘s not much to be done; the villa wants for nothing: I know it perfectly.”

“Ah, it’s comfortable, then?” said the Prince, with a slight degree of animation.

“La Rocca is all that Contarete’s taste could make it,” replied Jekyl.

“Poor Contarete! he was an excellent maitre d’hotel,” said Midchekoff. “He’s still with me, somewhere; I rather believe in Tartary, just now.”

“Your Ladyship may leave this on Thursday,” said Jekyl, who well knew that he was paying the most flattering compliment to Midchekoff in naming the shortest possible time for preparation.

“Will this be inconvenient, Prince?” asked Lady Hester.

“No; not in the least. If Jekyl will precede you by a couple of hours, I trust all will be ready.”

“With your permission, then, we will say Thursday,” said she, who, with her habitual delight in novelty, was already wild with pleasure at the whole scheme.

“Perhaps I’ll come and visit you,” said Midchekoff. “I shall have to go to Vienna soon.”

Lady Hester bowed and smiled her acknowledgments for this not over-gracious speech.

“May we follow you, too, Lady Hester?” asked the Sicilian.

“We expect that much from your loyalty, gentlemen. Our exile will test your fidelity.”

“There ‘s something or other inconvenient about the stables,” said Midchekoff, “but I forget what it is; they are up a mountain, or down in a valley. I don’t remember it, but the Emperor said it was wrong, and should be changed.”

“They are on the opposite side of the lake, Prince,” interposed Jekyl, “and you must cross over to your carriage by boat.”

“Oh, delightful, quite delightful!” exclaimed Lady Hester, with childish joy, at the novelty.

“La Rocca is on a little promontory,” said Jekyl, “only approachable from the water, for the mountain is quite inaccessible.”

“You shall have a road made, if you wish it,” said the Prince, languidly.

“On no account. I would n’t for the world destroy the isolation of the spot.”

“Do you happen to remember, Mr. Jekyl, if there be any pictures there?”

“There are some perfect gems, by Greuze.”

“Oh! that’s where they are, is it? I could never call to mind where they were left.”

The conversation now became general, in discussing Lady Hester’s change of abode, the life they should all lead when on the lake, and the innumerable stories that would be circulated to account for her sudden departure. This same mystery was not the least agreeable feature of the whole, and Lady Hester never wearied in talking of all the speculations her new step was certain to originate; and although some of the company regretted the approaching closure of a house which formed the resource of every evening, others were not sorry at the prospect of anything which offered a change to the monotony of their lives.

“You’ll come to breakfast to-morrow, Mr. Jekyl,” said Lady Hester, as he followed the departing guests. “I shall want you the whole day.”

He bowed with his hand to his heart, and never did features of like mould evince a deeper aspect of devotion.