GOLD WHICH GLITTERS.”
Lady Lombard, being in many senses of the word a great lady, lived in
a great house, which looked out upon that gloomy sight, a London garden,
and had its front door at the back for the sake of appearances. At this
perverted entrance did Bracy’s mendacious tiger, standing on tip-toe
the better to reach the knocker, fulminate like a duodecimo edition
of Olympian Jove, until two colossal footmen, in a great state of
excitement and scarlet plush, opened the door so suddenly as nearly to
cause the prostration of the booted boy, who only saved himself from
falling by stumbling, boots and all, against the tall shin of the
highest footman, thereby eliciting from that noble creature an
ejaculation suggestive of his intense appreciation of the injury done
him, and hinting, not obscurely, at his wishes in regard to the future
destiny of his juvenile assailant. That youth, however, who, we are
forced to confess, was not only as “impudent as he was high,” but,
reckoning by the peculiar standard which the expression aforesaid
indicates, at the very least three feet more so, hastened thus to rebuke
his adversary: “Hit’s lucky for you, Maypole, as I hain’t hon the bench
of majorstraits yet, hor ther’d a been five bob hout o’ your red plush
pockets for swearin’, as sure has heggs is heggs! Hif that’s hall yer
gratitude for me a-bringin’ of ye my honourable master and two noble
Purshun princes, hi’d better horder the carridge to turn round and
take’em back agen.”
Having astonished the disgusted giant by this speech, the imp bounded
down the steps and held open the cab-door with an air of dignified
condescension.
“Is not that boy a treasure?” whispered Bracy to Frere as they alighted.
“How neatly he took the shine out of that thick-witted pyramid of fool’s
flesh! I could not have done the thing better myself.”
“I don’t pretend to any very unusual powers of foresight,” muttered
Frere under his beard, “but I think I could point out that brat’s
residuary legatee.”
“Ah, indeed!” returned Bracy; “and who do you fix upon? the Archbishop
of Canterbury?”
“No, the hangman,” was the gruff reply.
“Well, I’d myself venture to insure him against drowning for a very
moderate premium,” rejoined his master, laughing; “but now I really must
beg you to bear in mind that you are utterly ignorant of the English
language.”
“Inshallah! I’d forgotten my illustrious descent most completely,”
answered Frere, “but I’ll be careful; so, for the next three hours, ‘my
native’ tongue, ‘good-night.’”
While this conversation had been carried on in an undertone, the
party had been ushered upstairs amidst the wondering gaze of servants
innumerable, of all sorts and sizes, from the little foot-page
staggering under a galaxy of buttons to the mighty butler barely able to
walk beneath the weight of his own dignity.
“What name shall I say, gentlemen?” asked the last-named official in his
most insinuating tone; for a Persian prince was a rarity sufficient to
impress even his imperturbable spirit with a sense of respect.
“His Highness Prince Mustapha Ali Khan and suite,” returned Bracy
authoritatively.
Immediately the door of a well-lighted saloon was flung back on its
hinges, and in a stentorian voice the major domo announced, “His
Highness Prince Mystify-all-I-can and see-it.”
“By Jove! he’s hit it,” whispered Bracy to Lewis, as, following Frere,
they entered the room. “He won’t beat that if he tries till he’s black
in the face.”
As he finished speaking, the guests, who had crowded as near the door as
good breeding would allow to witness the Prince’s _entrée_, drew back as
a rustling of silks and satins announced the approach of their hostess.
Lady Lombard, who, to judge by appearances, would never again celebrate
her forty-fifth birthday, had been a handsome, and still was a
fine-looking woman. She was tall and portly; in fact portly is rather
a mild term to use in speaking of her ladyship, but we don’t like to
stigmatise her as stout, and beyond that we could not go in speaking
of a lady. She had a very bright colour and a very fair skin, in the
display of which she was by no means niggardly, her gown having short
sleeves (so short, indeed, as scarcely to be worth mentioning), and
being----well, we know a French word which would express our meaning,
but we prefer our own language, and must therefore say, being rather too
much off where it would have been better a little more on. She wore a
profusion of light ringlets, which we feel justified in stating, upon
our personal responsibility, to have been her own, for Lady Lombard was
an honourable woman, and paid her bills most punctually. These flaxen
locks rejoiced in one peculiarity--they were not divided in the centre,
after the usual method, but the _in medio tutissimns ibis_ principle had
been abandoned in favour of a new and striking coiffure, which, until we
were introduced to her ladyship, we had believed to be restricted to the
blue-and-silver epicene pages who worship the prima donna and poke fun
at the soubrettes on the opera stage. The page-like parting, then, was
on one side of her head, and across her ample forehead lay a festoon
of hair, arranged so as to suggest, to a speculative mind, a fanciful
resemblance to the drapery at the top of a window curtain. Her features
were by no means without expression; on the contrary, meek pomposity
and innocent self-satisfaction were written in legible characters on her
good-natured countenance.
The most carefully written descriptions usually prove inadequate to
convey to the reader’s mind a just idea of the object they would fain
depict; but as we are especially anxious that others should see Lady
Lombard with our eyes, we must beg their attention to the following
simple process, by which we trust to enable them to realise her.
Let each reader, then, call to mind the last average specimen of fat and
fair babyhood which may have come under his notice; let him imagine it
clothed in the richest sky-blue satin; let him deprive it of its coral,
and substitute in its place a gold watch and appendages; round its fat
little excuse for a neck let him clasp a diamond necklace; let him dress
its hair, or provide it a flaxen wig--if its hair should be as yet a
pleasure to come--made after the fashion we have above described; and
let him, lastly, by a powerful effort of imagination, inflate this baby
until, still preserving its infantine proportions, it shall stand five
feet nine in its satin shoes,--and he will then have arrived at a very
correct idea of Lady Lombard as she appeared when, rustling forward in a
tremor of delight, she advanced to perform the part of gracious hostess
to the Prince of Persia.
“Really, Mr. Bracy,” she began, as that gentleman, with a countenance of
solemn satisfaction, stepped forward to meet her, “really, this is _too_
kind of you; how do you do? So you have positively brought me the _dear_
prince? _Will_ you introduce me to him, and explain to him how _very_
much honoured I am by his condescension in coming this evening?”
Be it observed, by the way, that her ladyship spoke with the greatest
_empressement_, and had a habit of uttering many of her words in
italics, not to say small capitals.
“It will give me much satisfaction to do so,” returned Bracy, with grave
courtesy; “but I can assure you the prince came quite of his own accord.
The moment I had explained your invitation to him he caught the note out
of my hand, pressed it three times to his forehead, and exclaimed in the
court dialect of Iraun, ‘_Hahazyr imeyur manzur_, he did, indeed.”
“No-o-o, _really!_” ejaculated Lady Lombard, more emphatically than she
had ever yet spoken in her life; then, as a faint glimmering came across
her that there was a slight anomaly in appearing so deeply interested in
a remark which she could by no possibility understand, she added: “But
you should recollect, Mr. Bracy, that _every_ one does not possess your
remarkable acquaintance with the Eastern languages.”
“Psha! how forgetful I am!” returned Bracy. “Your ladyship must excuse
me; the prince has been so short a time in this country that I am
scarcely yet accustomed to my new duties. The few words I had the honour
to repeat to you merely signify--you know the Eastern metaphors are
very peculiar--‘I will kiss’--it’s the usual form of accepting any
distinguished invitation--‘I will kiss her ladyship’s door-mat!’
Curious, is it not?”
“Yes, _indeed_,” was the sympathetic reply. At the same moment Bracy,
turning to Frere, presented him to their hostess, saying “Prince, this
is Lady Lombard--_Twygt-hur rhumauld gâl!_”
The first sound that escaped his Highness was a hysterical grunt which,
in an Englishman, might have been deemed indicative of suppressed
laughter, but proceeding from the bearded lips of a Persian potentate,
assumed the character of an Eastern ejaculation. After muttering a few
_real_ Persian words with an appearance of deep respect, Frere took her
ladyship’s plump white hand between both his own and raised it to his
lips; then, relinquishing it, he spoke again, made a low salaam, and
drawing himself up to his full height, crossed his arms on his breast
and stood motionless before her. The appealing looks which she cast upon
Bracy when the prince spoke was a severe trial to his gravity; but by
long experience in practical joking he had acquired wonderful command
of countenance, which stood him now in good stead, and he proceeded
to translate Frere’s sentences into certain flowery and unmeaning
compliments, which were about as unlike their real signification as need
be.
After Lewis had gone through the same ceremony without the speeches, for
which omission Bracy accounted by explaining that it was not etiquette
for the Persian nobles to speak when in attendance on their princes,
they were led to the upper end of the apartment, where Frere seated
himself cross-legged on a sofa and made himself very much at home,
keeping Bracy fully employed in inventing translations to speeches, not
one word of which he, or any one else present, comprehended. Lewis, in
the meantime, who was becoming dreadfully tired of the whole affair,
stood near the end of the sofa, with his arms folded across his breast,
looking especially scornful and very particularly bored.
“Ah!” exclaimed Lady Lombard, as a pretty, graceful girl, very simply
dressed, made her way up the room, “there’s that _dear_ Laura Peyton
arrived. I _must_ go and speak to her, and bring her to be introduced
to the Prince.” She then added, aside to Bracy, “She’s _immensely_ rich;
clear six thousand a year, and does not spend two.”
“A very charming trait in her character,” returned Bracy. “I’ll mention
it to the Prince. I don’t know that there ever _was_ an Englishwoman
queen of Persia; but that’s no reason there never should be one.”
Bracy was accordingly introduced to the young lady, and led her, smiling
and blushing, up to Frere, by whom he seated her, and paved the way for
conversation by the following remark:--
“_Tharmy buoi aintsheaz tunnar?_” which for the damsel’s edification he
translated--“Asylum of the Universe! the maiden, the daughter of roses,
salutes thee!”
After a short interval Lady Lombard again bore down upon them in full
sail, towing in her wake a small, hirsute, baboon-like individual,
evidently one of her menagerie.
“There’s a chimpanzee!” whispered Bracy to Frere. “Now, if that picture
of ugliness turns out an eastern traveller we’re gone ’coons.”
“All right,” returned Frere in the same tone, “he’s only an exiled
something. He came to our shop with a recommendation from some of the
Parisian _savans_ the other day.”
“I must trouble you _once_ again, Mr. Bracy,” insinuated Lady Lombard.
“Professor Malchapeau is _dying_ to be introduced.”
“No trouble, but a pleasure,” returned Bracy. “I shall have the greatest
satisfaction in making two such illustrious individuals known to each
other. Does the Professor speak English?”
“Yas; I vas spik Angleesh von pritté veil,” replied the person alluded
to, strutting forward on tiptoe. “I ave zie honaire to vish you how you
did, my prince?”
Frere made some reply, which Bracy paraphrased into “The descendant of
many Shahs kisses the hem of the mantle of the Father of science.”
The Professor’s “Angleesh” not providing him with a suitable reply
ready made, he was obliged to resort to that refuge for destitute
foreigners--a shrug and a grimace.
Lady Lombard came to his assistance.
“Now, Professor, suppose you were to tell his Highness your affecting
history;” adding in a whisper, “Mr. Bracy, the interpreter, is connected
with government, and might be of the greatest use to you.”
“Ohf, miladi, if all zie bodies had your big heart in dem, zies vicked
vorld should be von eaven,” replied the Professor, gratefully, through
his talented nose. “My littel storie! ohf, zie Prince should not vant to
ear him?”
His Highness, however, being graciously pleased to signify his anxiety
so to do, the small man resumed--
“Ah, _ma Patri!_ vhats I ave come thro’ for him, ven I vill _raconte_
nobody shall not belief.”
“To enable the Prince to understand your account more clearly,”
interrupted Bracy, “may I ask to what country it relates?”
“Vidout von doubt, saire! you shall tell zie Prince dat my littel tale
is Swish. My fadaire vas vot you call von mayor of zie canton of Zurich.
My brodaire and myselfs vas his only schild; since a long time ve vas
live very appy, _mais enfin_--but on his end--zie _sacré Autriche_--von
bad Oystrish government, did vot you call oppress _ma pauvre patrie_,
and my fadaire, _toujours brave_, got himself into von littel
conspiration, vaire he did commit vat you call zie offence politique;
vas trown to prison, and in his confinement he did die. Ah! ‘_mourir
pour la patrie, c’est doux_,’ to die for zie country is zie--vat you
call _doux_ in Angleesh?”
“You will find the same word in both languages, Professor, only we
pronounce it deuce,” replied Bracy politely.
“Ah! c’est bon, to die for zie country is zie deuce! _Eh bien_, after
my poor fadaire was entombed, my brodaire did run himselfs avay, and vas
converted to _un berger_, a little shepherd of cows, and I, _hélas! Pour
moi, fêtais désolé_--for myself, I was dissolute, left alone in zie
vide vorld, visout von friend to turn against. _Mais le ciel embrace
les orphelins_--eaven embarrasses zie orphans; I marched on my foot to
Paris; I found an unexpected uncle, who had supposed himself dead for
some years; I undervent all zie sciences, and _enfin me voici_--on my
end here I am.”
“A most affecting history indeed,” returned Bracy, covering his mouth
with his hand to conceal a smile. As for Frere, he had for some time
past been nearly suffocated by suppressed laughter, which at length
made itself so apparent that nothing but his beard and an assumed fit of
coughing could have saved him from discovery.
While this conversation had been going on, Miss Peyton called Lady
Lombard’s attention to Lewis by observing: “The interpreter, in
entertaining the Prince, seems entirely to have forgotten that very
handsome young attendant who stands there, looking so haughty and
disconsolate.”
“Dear me! so he does,” exclaimed Lady Lombard anxiously. “How _very_
handsome he is! such a thoroughly Eastern countenance! _He’s_ a man of
very high rank, too, over there. What _could_ we do to amuse him?”
“Perhaps we might show him some prints,” suggested Laura; “at all events
the attention might please him.”
“Oh, _yes!_ how _clever_ of you! I should never have thought of that
now. I’ve a table covered with them in the boudoir,” exclaimed Lady
Lombard delightedly; “but do you think you could turn them over for him?
I’m so foolish, I should be quite _nervous_; you see it’s so awkward his
not understanding English, poor fellow! I know I’m _very_ foolish.”
“I shall be most happy to do anything I can to lessen your
difficulties,” replied the young lady good-naturedly. “Shall I look out
a book of prints?”
“If you _would_ be so kind, my dear, you’ll find _plenty_ in the
boudoir; and I’ll go to Mr. Bracy and get him to speak to him for me.”
The result of this application was the capture of Lewis, who, inwardly
raging, was carried off to the boudoir and seated at a table, while Miss
Peyton, half frightened, half amused, turned over a volume of prints for
his edification. Lady Lombard and sundry of the guests stood round for
some minutes watching the smiles and pantomimic gestures with which
Lewis, or rather Hassan Bey, as Bracy had named him, felt bound to
acknowledge the young lady’s attentions.
Amongst the guests who were thus amusing themselves lounged a young
dandy, who, on the strength of a Mediterranean yacht voyage, set up for
a distinguished traveller. To Lady Lombard’s inquiry whether he spoke
Persian he simpered, “Re’ely--no, not exactly so as to talk to him; but
he’ll do vastly well. They prefer silence, re’ely, those fellows do. You
know I’ve seen so much of ’em.”
“You were in Persia, were you not?” asked one of the company.
“Re’ely--not exactly in his part of Persia. Stamboul, the city of
palaces, was my headquarters: but it’s much the same; indolence, beards,
and tobacco are the characteristics of both races.”
“Don’t you think he is charmingly handsome?” asked an old young lady,
shaking her ringlets after a fashion which five years before had been a
very “telling” manoeuvre.
“Re’ely, I should scarcely have said so,” was the reply; “the boy is
well enough for an Asiatic, I like a more--ahem!--manly style of thing.”
And as he spoke he passed his hand caressingly over a violent pair of
red whiskers which garnished his own hard-featured physiognomy.
The cool impudence of this remark inspired Lewis with so intense a
sentiment of disgust that his lip curled involuntarily, and he turned
over the print before him with a gesture of impatience. On looking up
he was rather disconcerted to find Laura Peyton’s piercing black eyes
watching him curiously.
“You’ve given us nothing new in the musical way lately, Lady Lombard,”
observed the “sere and yellow leaf” damsel before alluded to.
“I expect a lady to stay with me soon,” was the reply, “whom I _think_
you’ll be pleased with; she sings and plays in very_ first_-rate style.”
“Indeed! Is she an amateur or professional, may I inquire?”
“Why, _really_, my dear Miss Sparkless, you’ve asked a difficult
question. The fact is,” continued Lady Lombard, sinking her voice, “it’s
one of those _very_ sad cases, reduced fortune--you understand. I mean
to have her here _merely_ out of charity.” Sinking her voice still
lower, the following words only became audible: “Wife of a Captain
Arundel--foreign extraction originally--quite a _mésalliance_, I
believe.”
As she spoke some new arrival attracted her attention, and she and her
confidante left the boudoir together.
It may easily be conceived with what feelings of burning indignation
Lewis had listened to the foregoing remarks; but Frere’s lecture of the
morning had not been without its fruits. With his anger the necessity
for self-control presented itself, and he was congratulating himself at
having checked all outward signs of annoyance when he was startled by
a silvery voice whispering in his ear: “Persian or no Persian, sir,
you understand English as well as I do;” and slightly turning, his eyes
encountered those of Laura Peyton fixed on him with a roguish glance.
His resolution was instantly taken, and he replied in the same tone:
“Having discovered my secret, you must promise to keep it.”
“Agreed, on one condition,” was the rejoinder.
“And that is------?” asked Lewis.
“That you immediately make a full confession and tell me all about it.”
“It is a compact,” was the reply.
“That is good,” rejoined the young lady. “Now move the portfolio, so
that your back will be towards those people. That will do. Hold down
your head as if you were examining the prints, and then answer my
questions truly and concisely. First, you are an English gentleman?”
“Yes, I hope so.”
“Who is the prince?”
“My friend, Richard Frere.”
“And why have you both come here dressed like Persians?”
“To mystify our foolish hostess.”
“For shame, sir! I’m very fond of Lady Lombard.”
“But you know she is a silly woman.”
“Well, never mind. Who planned this hoax?”
“Bracy, the so-called interpreter.”
“Does Prince Frere talk real Persian?”
“Yes.”
“And does the other man understand him?”
“Not a bit.”
“Then he invents all the answers? That’s rather clever of him. I shall
go and listen presently. And you can’t talk either Persian or gibberish,
so you held your tongue and looked sulky. Well, I think it’s all very
wrong; but it’s rather droll. Poor, dear Lady Lombard! she’d never
survive it if she did but know! And now, tell me, lastly, what put you
in a rage just this minute and enabled me to find you out?”
“You would not care to know.”
“But I do care to know, sir, and you have promised to answer all my
questions.”
“You heard the speech that woman made about a Mrs. Arundel?”
“Yes, surely.”
“Learn, then, that my name is Lewis Arundel, and the lady referred to
was my mother. Now do you understand?”
As Lewis uttered these words, in atone of suppressed bitterness, his
companion hastily turned her head and said, in a low, hurried voice--“I
beg your pardon! I fear I have pained you; but I did not know--I could
not guess----”
“Pray do not distress yourself,” returned Lewis kindly, Rose’s smile for
a moment smoothing his haughty brow and playing round his proud mouth.
“I am sure you would not hurt any one’s feelings knowingly; and since
you observed my annoyance, I am glad to have been able to explain its
cause.”
So engrossed had they been by this conversation that they had not
observed Miss Sparkless enter the boudoir by another door; and they were
first made aware of her presence by seeing her standing, breathless with
astonishment, at discovering Miss Peyton in familiar colloquy with a
Persian nobleman utterly ignorant of the English language.
“Do you speak German?” asked Lewis quickly.
“Yes, a little,” returned Miss Peyton.
“She has not caught a word yet,” continued Lewis. “Tell her you found
out by accident that I had picked up a few German sentences when
the Prince was at the court of Prussia. White lies, unhappily, are
inevitable on these occasions,” he continued, seeing his companion
hesitate. “It’s the only way to prevent an _éclaircissementt_; and then,
think of poor Lady Lombard’s feelings!”
“As I seem fairly embarked in the conspiracy, I suppose I must do your
bidding,” was the reply, and Miss Sparkless, the middle-aged young lady,
was accordingly informed of Lewis’s German proficiency, whereat, falling
into an ecstasy, she replied--
“How charming! What a dear creature he is!” On which the dear creature
himself, catching Miss Peyton’s eye, was very near laughing outright.
“Laura, my _love_,” exclaimed Lady Lombard, entering hastily, “the
Prince is going down to supper; will you come?” Then taking her hand
caressingly, she added, “Have you been _very_ much bored by him, poor
fellow?”
“I found he could speak a few words of German, and that helped us on,”
was the reply.
“Yes, _really_--ah; we might have thought of _that_ before,” returned
Lady Lombard, by no means certain the German language might not form an
important and customary branch of Persian education.
During supper Laura Peyton contrived to be seated between Frere and
Bracy, the latter of whom she kept so constantly engaged in interpreting
for her that he scarcely got anything to eat, and came to the conclusion
that in the whole course of his experience he had never before
encountered such a talking woman. Nor was his annoyance diminished by
observing that Lewis, who was seated opposite, appeared to be deriving
the utmost amusement from his discomfiture. Having exhausted every
possible pretext for breaking off the conversation, and being each time
foiled by the young lady’s quiet tact, he was about to resign himself to
his fate and relinquish all idea of supper, when a project occurred to
him which he immediately hastened to put into execution. Waiting till
Frere had spoken a Persian sentence, he suddenly drew himself up,
looking deeply scandalised, frowned at the speaker, shook his head and
muttered something unintelligible in a tone of grave remonstrance, then
paused for a reply, which Frere, intensely perplexed, and by no means
clear that he had not done something un-Persian and wrong, was forced to
utter. This only seemed to make matters worse: Bracy again remonstrated
in gibberish, then appeared to have determined on his course, and
muttering, “Well, there’s no help for it, I suppose,” he turned to Lady
Lombard, and began in a tone of deep concern--
“I have a most disagreeable duty to perform, and must beg you to believe
that nothing but absolute necessity could have induced me to mention the
matter; but I have remonstrated with his Highness without effect, and I
dare go no further--he is subject to most violent bursts of passion, and
becomes dangerous when opposed. He drew his dagger and attempted to stab
me only yesterday, because I interfered to prevent his having one of the
waiters of the hotel strangled with a bow-string.”
Lady Lombard turned pale on receiving this information, while Bracy
continued--
“It is most unfortunate, but the Prince has been so much delighted with
this young lady’s charming flow of conversation that, in his ignorance
of the customs of this country, he has actually commissioned me to offer
you £500 for her, and declared his determination of taking her home with
him.”
The effect of this communication may be “better imagined than
described.” Miss Peyton, aware of the true state of affairs, hid her
face in her handkerchief in an uncontrollable fit of laughter; Lewis,
sorely tempted to follow her example, bent over his plate till the
flowing tassel of the fez concealed his features; Frere, excessively
annoyed at the false imputation, all but began a flat denial of the
charge in somewhat forcible English, but remembering his assumed
character just in time, clenched his fist and ground his teeth with
impatience, while Lady Lombard, observing these gestures, and construing
them into indications of an approaching burst of fury, was nearly
swooning with terror, when a note was put into her hands by a servant;
hastily casting her eyes over it, she handed it to Bracy, saying--
“This is most fortunate; it may serve to divert his attention.”
As he became aware of its contents his countenance fell, and holding it
so that Frere might read it, he whispered--
“Here’s a treat! We _are_ in for it now, and no mistake!”
The note ran as follows:--
“Dr. --------, Persian Professor at Addiscombe, presents his compliments
to Lady Lombard, and begs to inform her that being only in town for a
few hours, and learning accidentally that his Highness Prince Mustapha
Ali was spending the evening at her house, he has ventured to request
her permission to intrude upon her uninvited, as he is most anxious to
renew his acquaintance with his Highness, whom he had the honour to know
in Persia.”