Randal reached home in time to dress for a late dinner at Baron
Levy's.
The Baron's style of living was of that character especially
affected both by the most acknowledged exquisites of that day,
and, it must be owned, also, by the most egregious _parvenus_.
For it is noticeable that it is your _parvenu_ who always comes
nearest in fashion (so far as externals are concerned) to your
genuine exquisite. It is your _parvenu_ who is most particular as
to the cut of his coat, and the precision of his equipage, and
the minutiæ of his _ménage_. Those between the _parvenu_ and the
exquisite who know their own consequence, and have something solid
to rest upon, are slow in following all the caprices of fashion, and
obtuse in observation as to those niceties which neither give them
another ancestor, nor add another thousand to the account at their
banker's;--as to the last, rather indeed the contrary! There was a
decided elegance about the Baron's house and his dinner. If he had
been one of the lawful kings of the dandies, you would have cried,
"What perfect taste!"--but such is human nature, that the dandies
who dined with him said to each other, "He pretend to imitate
D----! vulgar dog!" There was little affectation of your more showy
opulence. The furniture in the rooms was apparently simple, but,
in truth, costly, from its luxurious comfort--the ornaments and
china scattered about the commodes were of curious rarity and great
value; and the pictures on the walls were gems. At dinner, no plate
was admitted on the table. The Russian fashion, then uncommon, now
more prevalent, was adopted--fruits and flowers in old Sèvre dishes
of priceless _vertu_, and in sparkling glass of Bohemian fabric.
No livery servant was permitted to wait; behind each guest stood
a gentleman dressed so like the guest himself, in fine linen and
simple black, that guest and lacquey seemed stereotypes from one
plate.
The viands were exquisite; the wine came from the cellars of
deceased archbishops and ambassadors. The company was select; the
party did not exceed eight. Four were the eldest sons of peers (from
a baron to a duke;) one was a professed wit, never to be got without
a month's notice, and, where a _parvenu_ was host, a certainty of
green pease and peaches--out of season; the sixth, to Randal's
astonishment, was Mr Richard Avenel; himself and the Baron made up
the complement.
The eldest sons recognised each other with a meaning smile; the most
juvenile of them, indeed, (it was his first year in London,) had the
grace to blush and look sheepish. The others were more hardened;
but they all united in regarding with surprise both Randal and
Dick Avenel. The former was known to most of them personally; and
to all, by repute, as a grave, clever, promising young man, rather
prudent than lavish, and never suspected to have got into a scrape.
What the deuce did he do there? Mr Avenel puzzled them yet more.
A middle-aged man, said to be in business, whom they had observed
"about town" (for he had a noticeable face and figure)--that is,
seen riding in the park, or lounging in the pit at the opera, but
never set eyes on at a recognised club, or in the coteries of their
'set';--a man whose wife gave horrid third-rate parties, that took
up half-a-column in the _Morning Post_ with a list of "The Company
Present,"--in which a sprinkling of dowagers out of fashion, and a
foreign title or two, made the darkness of the obscurer names doubly
dark. Why this man should be asked to meet _them_, by Baron Levy,
too--a decided tuft-hunter and would-be exclusive--called all their
faculties into exercise. The wit, who, being the son of a small
tradesman, but in the very best society, gave himself far greater
airs than the young lords, impertinently solved the mystery. "Depend
on it," whispered he to Spendquick--"depend on it the man is the
X.Y. of the _Times_ who offers to lend any sums of money from £10 to
half-a-million. He's the man who has all your bills; Levy is only
his jackall."
"'Pon my soul," said Spendquick, rather alarmed, "if that's the
case, one may as well be civil to him."
"_You_, certainly," said the wit. "But I never yet found an X.Y.
who would advance me the L. s.; and, therefore, I shall not be more
respectful to X.Y. than to any other unknown quantity."
By degrees, as the wine circulated, the party grew gay and sociable.
Levy was really an entertaining fellow; had all the gossip of the
town at his fingers' ends; and possessed, moreover, that pleasant
art of saying ill-natured things of the absent, which those present
always enjoy. By degrees, too, Mr Richard Avenel came out; and as
the whisper had circulated round the table that he was X.Y., he was
listened to with a profound respect, which greatly elevated his
spirits. Nay, when the wit tried once to show him up or mystify him,
Dick answered with a bluff spirit, that, though very coarse, was
found so humorous by Lord Spendquick and other gentlemen similarly
situated in the money-market, that they turned the laugh against
the wit, and silenced him for the rest of the night--a circumstance
which made the party go off much more pleasantly. After dinner,
the conversation, quite that of single men, easy and _débonnair_,
glanced from the turf, and the ballet, and the last scandal, towards
politics; for the times were such that politics were discussed
everywhere, and three of the young lords were county members.
Randal said little, but, as was his wont, listened attentively; and
he was aghast to find how general was the belief that the government
was doomed. Out of regard to him, and with that delicacy of breeding
which belongs to a certain society, nothing personal to Egerton was
said, except by Avenel, who, however, on blurting out some rude
expressions respecting that minister, was instantly checked by the
Baron.
"Spare my friend, and Mr Leslie's near connection," said he, with a
polite but grave smile.
"Oh," said Avenel, "public men, whom we pay, are public
property--aren't they, my lord?" appealing to Spendquick.
"Certainly," said Spendquick, with great spirit--"public property,
or why should we pay them? There must be a very strong motive to
induce us to do that! I hate paying people. In fact," he subjoined
in an aside, "I never do!"
"However," resumed Mr Avenel graciously, "I don't want to hurt your
feelings, Mr Leslie. As to the feelings of our host, the Baron, I
calculate that they have got tolerably tough by the exercise they
have gone through."
"Nevertheless," said the Baron, joining in the laugh
which any lively saying by the supposed X.Y. was sure to
excite--"nevertheless, 'love me, love my dog,' love me, love my
Egerton."
Randal started, for his quick ear and subtle intelligence caught
something sinister and hostile in the tone with which Levy uttered
this equivocal comparison, and his eye darted towards the Baron. But
the Baron had bent down his face, and was regaling himself upon an
olive.
By-and-by the party rose from table. The four young noblemen had
their engagements elsewhere, and proposed to separate without
re-entering the drawing-room. As, in Goethe's theory, monads which
have affinities with each other are irresistibly drawn together,
so these gay children of pleasure had, by a common impulse, on
rising from table, moved each to each, and formed a group round the
fireplace. Randal stood a little apart, musing; the wit examined the
pictures through his eyeglass; and Mr Avenel drew the Baron towards
the sideboard, and there held him in whispered conference. This
colloquy did not escape the young gentlemen round the fireplace:
they glanced towards each other.
"Settling the percentage on renewal," said one, _sotto voce_.
"X.Y. does not seem such a very bad fellow," said another.
"He looks rich, and talks rich," said a third.
"A decided independent way of expressing his sentiments; those
moneyed men generally have."
"Good heavens!" ejaculated Spendquick, who had been keeping his eye
anxiously fixed on the pair, "do look; X.Y. is actually taking out
his pocket-book; he is coming this way. Depend on it he has got our
bills--mine is due to-morrow!"
"And mine too," said another, edging off. "Why, it is a perfect
_guet-apens_."
Meanwhile, breaking away from the Baron, who appeared anxious to
detain him, and failing in that attempt, turned aside, as if not to
see Dick's movements--a circumstance which did not escape the notice
of the group, and confirmed all their suspicions, Mr Avenel, with a
serious, thoughtful air, and a slow step, approached the group. Nor
did the great Roman general more nervously "flutter the dove-cotes
in Corioli," than did the advance of the supposed X.Y. agitate the
bosoms of Lord Spendquick and his sympathising friends. Pocket-book
in hand, and apparently feeling for something formidable within
its mystic recesses, step by step came Dick Avenel towards the
fireplace. The group stood still, fascinated by horror.
"Hum," said Mr Avenel, clearing his throat.
"I don't like that hum at all," muttered Spendquick.
"Proud to have made your acquaintance, gentlemen," said Dick, bowing.
The gentlemen, thus addressed, bowed low in return.
"My friend the Baron thought this not exactly the time to"--Dick
stopped a moment; you might have knocked down those four young
gentlemen, though four finer specimens of humanity no aristocracy
in Europe could produce--you might have knocked them down with a
feather! "But," renewed Avenel, not finishing his sentence, "I have
made it a rule in life never to lose securing a good opportunity;
in short, to make the most of the present moment. And," added he
with a smile, which froze the blood in Lord Spendquick's veins, "the
rule has made me a very warm man! Therefore, gentlemen, allow me to
present you each with one of these"--every hand retreated behind the
back of its well-born owner--when, to the inexpressible relief of
all, Dick concluded with--"a little _soirée dansante_," and extended
four cards of invitation.
"Most happy!" exclaimed Spendquick. "I don't dance in general; but
to oblige X---- I mean to have a better acquaintance, sir, with
_you_--I would dance on the tight-rope."
There was a good-humoured pleasant laugh at Spendquick's enthusiasm,
and a general shaking of hands and pocketing of the invitation cards.
"You don't look like a dancing man," said Avenel, turning to the
wit, who was plump and somewhat gouty--as wits who dine out five
days in the week generally are; "but we shall have supper at one
o'clock."
Infinitely offended and disgusted, the wit replied drily, "that
every hour of his time was engaged for the rest of the season," and,
with a stiff salutation to the Baron, took his departure. The rest,
in good spirits, hurried away to their respective cabriolets; and
Leslie was following them into the hall, when the Baron, catching
hold of him, said, "Stay, I want to talk to you."