THE KAPPA-KAPPA.
Mrs. Montacute Jones' house in Grosvenor Place was very large and very
gorgeous. On this occasion it was very gorgeous indeed. The party had
grown in dimensions. The new Moldavian dance had become the topic of
general discourse. Everybody wanted to see the Kappa-kappa. Count
Costi, Lord Giblet, young Sir Harry Tripletoe, and, no doubt, Jack De
Baron also, had talked a good deal about it at the clubs. It had been
intended to be a secret, and the ladies, probably, had been more
reticent. Lady Florence Fitzflorence had just mentioned it to her
nineteen specially intimate friends. Madame Gigi, the young wife of the
old Bohemian minister, had spoken of it only to the diplomatic set;
Miss Patmore Green had been as silent as death, except in her own
rather large family, and Lady George had hardly told anybody, except
her father. But, nevertheless, the secret had escaped, and great
efforts had been made to secure invitations. "I can get you to the
Duchess of Albury's in July if you can manage it for me," one young
lady said to Jack De Baron.
"Utterly impossible!" said Jack, to whom the offered bribe was not
especially attractive. "There won't be standing room in the cellars. I
went down on my knees to Mrs. Montacute Jones for a very old friend,
and she simply asked me whether I was mad." This was, of course,
romance; but, nevertheless, the crowd was great, and the anxiety to see
the Kappa-kappa universal.
By eleven the dancing had commenced. Everything had been arranged in
the strictest manner. Whatever dance might be going on was to be
brought to a summary close at twelve o'clock, and then the Kappa-kappa
was to be commenced. It had been found that the dance occupied exactly
forty minutes. When it was over the doors of the banquetting hall would
be opened. The Kappa-kappaites would then march into supper, and the
world at large would follow them.
Lady George, when she first entered the room, found a seat near the
hostess, and sat herself down, meaning to wait for the important
moment. She was a little flurried as she thought of various things.
There was the evil woman before her, already dancing. The evil woman
had nodded at her, and had then quickly turned away, determined not to
see that her greeting was rejected; and there was Augusta Mildmay
absolutely dancing with Jack De Baron, and looking as though she
enjoyed the fun. But to Mary there was something terrible in it all.
She had been so desirous to be happy,--to be gay,--to amuse herself,
and yet to be innocent. Her father's somewhat epicurean doctrines had
filled her mind completely. And what had hitherto come of it? Her
husband mistrusted her; and she at this moment certainly mistrusted him
most grievously. Could she fail to mistrust him? And she, absolutely
conscious of purity, had been so grievously suspected! As she looked
round on the dresses and diamonds, and heard the thick hum of voices,
and saw on all sides the pretence of cordiality, as she watched the
altogether unhidden flirtations of one girl, and the despondent frown
of another, she began to ask herself whether her father had not been
wrong when he insisted that she should be taken to London. Would she
not have been more safe and therefore more happy even down at Cross
Hall, with her two virtuous sisters-in-law? What would become of her
should she quarrel with her husband, and how should she not quarrel
with him if he would suspect her, and would frequent the house of that
evil woman?
Then Jack De Baron came up to her, talking to her father. The Dean
liked the young man, who had always something to say for himself, whose
manners were lively, and who, to tell the truth, was more than
ordinarily civil to Lady George's father. Whether Jack would have put
himself out of the way to describe the Kappa-kappa to any other
dignitary of the Church may be doubted, but he had explained it all
very graciously to the Dean. "So it seems that, after all, you are to
dance with Captain De Baron," said the Dean.
"Yes; isn't it hard upon me? I was to have stood up with a real French
Count, who has real diamond buttons, and now I am to be put off with a
mere British Captain, because my white frock is supposed to suit his
red coat!"
"And who has the Count?"
"That odiously fortunate Lady Florence;--and she has diamonds of her
own! I think they should have divided the diamonds. Madame Gigi has the
Lord. Between ourselves, papa,"--and as she said this she whispered,
and both her father and Jack bent over to hear her--"we are rather
afraid of our Lord; ain't we, Captain De Baron? There has been ever so
much to manage, as we none of us quite wanted the Lord. Madame Gigi
talks very little English, so we were able to put him off upon her."
"And does the Lord talk French?"
"That doesn't signify as Giblet never talks at all," said Jack.
"Why did you have him?"
"To tell you the truth, among us all there is rather a hope that he
will propose to Miss Patmore Green. Dear Mrs. Montacute Jones is very
clever at these things, and saw at a glance that nothing would be so
likely to make him do it as seeing Madeline Green dancing with
Tripletoe. No fellow ever did dance so well as Tripletoe, or looked
half so languishing. You see, Dean, there are a good many in's and
out's in these matters, and they have to be approached carefully." The
Dean was amused, and his daughter would have been happy, but for the
double care which sat heavy at her heart. Then Jack suggested to her
that she might as well stand up for a square dance. All the other
Kappa-kappaites had danced or were dancing. The one thing on which she
was firmly determined was that she would not be afraid of Captain De
Baron. Whatever she did now she did immediately under her father's eye.
She made no reply, but got up and put her hand on the Captain's arm
without spoken assent, as a woman will do when she is intimate with a
man.
"Upon my word, for a very young creature I never saw such impudence as
that woman's," said a certain Miss Punter to Augusta Mildmay. Miss
Punter was a great friend of Augusta Mildmay, and was watching her
friend's broken heart with intense interest.
"It is disgusting," said Augusta.
"She doesn't seem to mind the least who sees it. She must mean to leave
Lord George altogether, or she would never go on like that. De Baron
wouldn't be such a fool as to go off with her?"
"Men are fools enough for anything," said the broken-hearted one. While
this was going on Mary danced her square dance complaisantly; and her
proud father, looking on, thought that she was by far the prettiest
woman in the room.
Before the quadrille was over a gong was struck, and the music stopped
suddenly. It was twelve o'clock, and the Kappa-kappa was to be danced.
It is hard in most amusements to compel men and women into disagreeable
punctuality; but the stopping of music will bring a dance to a sudden
end. There were some who grumbled, and one or two declared that they
would not even stay to look at the Kappa-kappa. But Mrs. Montacute
Jones was a great autocrat; and in five minutes' time the four couples
were arranged, with ample space, in spite of the pressing crowd.
It must be acknowledged that Jack De Baron had given no correct idea of
the dance when he said that it was like a minuet; but it must be
remembered also that Lady George had not been a party to that deceit.
The figure was certainly a lively figure. There was much waltzing to
quick time, the glory of which seemed to consist in going backwards,
and in the interweaving of the couples without striking each other, as
is done in skating. They were all very perfect, except poor Lord
Giblet, who once or twice nearly fell into trouble. During the
performance they all changed partners more than once, but each lady
came back to her own after very short intervals. All those who were not
envious declared it to be very pretty and prophesied great future
success for the Kappa-kappa. Those who were very wise and very discreet
hinted that it might become a romp when danced without all the
preparation which had been given to it on the present occasion. It
certainly became faster as it progressed, and it was evident that
considerable skill and considerable physical power were necessary for
its completion. "It would be a deal too stagey for my girls," said Mrs.
Conway Smith, whose "girls" had, during the last ten years, gone
through every phase of flirtation invented in these latter times.
Perhaps it did savour a little too much of ballet practise; perhaps it
was true that with less care there might have been inconveniences.
Faster it grew and faster; but still they had all done it before, and
done it with absolute accuracy. It was now near the end. Each lady had
waltzed a turn with each gentleman. Lady George had been passed on from
the Count to Sir Harry, and from Sir Harry to Lord Giblet. After her
turn it was his lordship's duty to deliver her up to her partner, with
whom she would make a final turn round the dancing space; and then the
Kappa-kappa would have been danced. But alas! as Lord Giblet was doing
this he lost his head and came against the Count and Madame Gigi. Lady
George was almost thrown to the ground, but was caught by the Captain,
who had just parted with Lady Florence to Sir Harry. But poor Mary had
been almost on the floor, and could hardly have been saved without
something approaching to the violence of an embrace.
Lord George had come into the room very shortly after the Kappa-kappa
had been commenced, but had not at once been able to get near the
dancers. Gradually he worked his way through the throng, and when he
first saw the performers could not tell who was his wife's partner. She
was then waltzing backwards with Count Costi; and he, though he hated
waltzing, and considered the sin to be greatly aggravated by the
backward movement, and though he hated Counts, was still somewhat
pacified. He had heard since he was in the room how the partners were
arranged, and had thought that his wife had deceived him. The first
glance was reassuring. But Mary soon returned to her real partner; and
he slowly ascertained that she was in very truth waltzing with Captain
De Baron. He stood there, a little behind the first row of spectators,
never for a moment seen by his wife, but able himself to see
everything, with a brow becoming every moment blacker and blacker. To
him the exhibition was in every respect objectionable. The brightness
of the apparel of the dancers was in itself offensive to him. The
approach that had been made to the garishness of a theatrical
performance made the whole thing, in his eyes, unfit for modest
society. But that his wife should be one of the performers, that she
should be gazed at by a crowd as she tripped about, and that, after all
that had been said, she should be tripping in the arms of Captain De
Baron, was almost more than he could endure. Close to him, but a little
behind, stood the Dean, thoroughly enjoying all that he saw. It was to
him a delight that there should be such a dance to be seen in a lady's
drawing-room, and that he should be there to see it. It was to him an
additional delight that his daughter should have been selected as one
of the dancers. These people were all persons of rank and fashion, and
his girl was among them quite as their equal,--his girl, who some day
should be Marchioness of Brotherton. And it gratified him thoroughly to
think that she enjoyed it,--that she did it well,--that she could dance
so that standers-by took pleasure in seeing her dancing. His mind in
the matter was altogether antagonistic to that of his son-in-law.
Then came the little accident. The Dean, with a momentary impulse, put
up his hand, and then smiled well pleased when he saw how well the
matter had been rectified by the Captain's activity. But it was not so
with Lord George. He pressed forward into the circle with so determined
a movement that nothing could arrest him till he had his wife by the
arm. Everybody, of course, was staring at him. The dancers were
astounded. Mary apparently thought less of it than the others, for she
spoke to him with a smile. "It is all right, George; I was not in the
least hurt."
"It is disgraceful!" said he, in a loud voice; "come away."
"Oh, yes," she said; "I think we had finished. It was nobody's fault."
"Come away; I will have no more of this."
"Is there anything wrong?" asked the Dean, with an air of innocent
surprise.
The offended husband was almost beside himself with passion. Though he
knew that he was surrounded by those who would mock him he could not
restrain himself. Though he was conscious at the moment that it was his
special duty to shield his wife, he could not restrain his feelings.
The outrage was too much for him. "There is very much the matter," he
said, aloud; "let her come away with me." Then he took her under his
arm, and attempted to lead her away to the door.
Mrs. Montacute Jones had, of course, seen it all, and was soon with
him. "Pray, do not take her away, Lord George," she said.
"Madam, I must be allowed to do so," he replied, still pressing on. "I
would prefer to do so."
"Wait till her carriage is here."
"We will wait below. Good-night, good-night." And so he went out of the
room with his wife on his arm, followed by the Dean. Since she had
perceived that he was angry with her, and that he had displayed his
anger in public Mary had not spoken a word. She had pressed him to come
and see the dance, not without a purpose in her mind. She meant to get
rid of the thraldom to which he had subjected her when desiring her not
to waltz, and had done so in part when she obtained his direct sanction
at Lady Brabazon's. No doubt she had felt that as he took liberties as
to his own life, as he received love-letters from an odious woman, he
was less entitled to unqualified obedience than he might have been had
his hands been perfectly clean. There had been a little spirit of
rebellion engendered in her by his misconduct; but she had determined
to do nothing in secret. She had asked his leave to waltz at Lady
Brabazon's, and had herself persuaded him to come to Mrs. Montacute
Jones'. Perhaps she would hardly have dared to do so had she known that
Captain De Baron was to be her partner. While dancing she had been
unaware of her husband's presence, and had not thought of him. When he
had first come to her she had in truth imagined that he had been
frightened by her narrow escape from falling. But when he bade her come
away with that frown on his face, and with that awful voice, then she
knew it all. She had no alternative but to take his arm, and to "come
away." She had not courage enough,--I had better perhaps say impudence
enough,--to pretend to speak to him or to anyone near him with ease.
All eyes were upon her, and she felt them; all tongues would be talking
of her, and she already heard the ill-natured words. Her own husband
had brought all this upon her,--her own husband, whose love-letter from
another woman she had so lately seen, and so readily forgiven! It was
her own husband who had so cruelly, so causelessly subjected her to
shame in public, which could never be washed out or forgotten! And who
would sympathise with her? There was no one now but her father. He
would stand by her; he would be good to her; but her husband by his own
doing had wilfully disgraced her.
Not a word was spoken till they were in the cloak-room, and then Lord
George stalked out to find the brougham, or any cab that might take
them away from the house. Then for the first time the Dean whispered a
word to her. "Say as little as you can to him to-night, but keep up
your courage."
"Oh, papa!"
"I understand it all. I will be with you immediately after breakfast."
"You will not leave me here alone?"
"Certainly not,--nor till you are in your carriage. But listen to what
I am telling you. Say as little as you can till I am with you. Tell him
that you are unwell to-night, and that you must sleep before you talk
to him."
"Ah! you don't know, papa."
"I know that I will have the thing put on a right footing." Then Lord
George came back, having found a cab. He gave his arm to his wife and
took her away, without saying a word to the Dean. At the door of the
cab the Dean bade them both good-night. "God bless you, my child," he
said.
"Good-night; you'll come to-morrow?"
"Certainly." Then the door was shut, and the husband and wife were
driven away.
Of course this little episode contributed much to the amusement of Mrs.
Montacute Jones's guests. The Kappa-kappa had been a very pretty
exhibition, but it had not been nearly so exciting as that of the
jealous husband. Captain De Baron, who remained, was, of course, a
hero. As he could not take his partner into supper, he was honoured by
the hand of Mrs. Montacute Jones herself. "I wouldn't have had that
happen for a thousand pounds," said the old lady.
"Nor I for ten," said Jack.
"Has there been any reason for it?"
"None in the least. I can't explain of what nature is my intimacy with
Lady George, but it has been more like that of children than grown
people."
"I know. When grown people play at being children, it is apt to be
dangerous."
"But we had no idea of the kind. I may be wicked enough. I say nothing
about that. But she is as pure as snow. Mrs. Jones, I could no more
dare to press her hand than I would to fly at the sun. Of course I like
her."
"And she likes you."
"I hope so,--in that sort of way. But it is shocking that such a scene
should come from such a cause."
"Some men, Captain De Baron, don't like having their handsome young
wives liked by handsome young officers. It's very absurd, I grant."
Mrs. Jones and Captain De Baron did really grieve at what had been
done, but to others, the tragedy coming after the comedy had not been
painful. "What will be the end of it?" said Miss Patmore Green to Sir
Harry.
"I am afraid they won't let her dance it any more," said Sir Harry, who
was intent solely on the glories of the Kappa-kappa. "We shall hardly
get any one to do it so well."
"There'll be something worse than that, I'm afraid," said Miss Green.
Count Costi suggested to Lady Florence that there would certainly be a
duel. "We never fight here in England, Count."
"Ah! dat is bad. A gentleman come and make himself vera disagreeable.
If he most fight perhaps he would hold his tong. I tink we do things
better in Paris and Vienna." Lord Giblet volunteered his opinion to
Madame Gigi that it was very disgraceful. Madame Gigi simply shrugged
her shoulders, and opened her eyes. She was able to congratulate
herself on being able to manage her own husband better than that.