At daybreak next morning everybody was busy at Grinselhof. John's wife
and her serving-maid scoured the corridor and staircase; the farmer
cleaned his stable; his son weeded the grass from the garden-walks. Very
early in the day Lenora set matters in order in the dining-room and
arranged with artistic taste all the pretty things she could find on the
mantel-piece and tables. There was a degree of life and activity about
Grinselhof that had not been seen in that solitude for many a year, and
everybody went to work with alacrity, as if anxious to dispel the gloom
that hung so long over the lonely dwelling. In the midst of the
industrious crowd Monsieur De Vlierbeck might be seen moving about with
words of encouragement and expressions of satisfaction; nor did he
manifest the slightest symptom of the anxiety that was secretly gnawing
his heart. A pleasant smile flattered his humble dependants, as he gave
them to understand that their labors would be greatly honored by the
approval of his expected guests.
The farmer and his spouse had never seen De Vlierbeck so pleasant and so
gay; and, as they sincerely loved their master, they were as much
delighted by his joy as if they had been preparing for a village fair in
which they were to take part. They never dreamed of pay for their
generous toil, but derived their most grateful recompense from the
pleasure they imparted to the hermit and his child.
As soon as the principal preparations were completed, De Vlierbeck
called his daughter and gave the necessary instructions for the dinner.
Lenora was to confine herself to drilling the farmer's wife in serving
the dishes with which she was not familiar. The old cooking-apparatus
was lighted; wood kindled and crackled in the chimney; coals glistened
in the grate; and high above the roof-tree, clouds of smoke betokened
the good cheer that was to adorn the tables. Baskets of game were
opened; stuffed poultry, savory pasties, and choice viands, were brought
forth; dishes of green peas, beans, and other vegetables, appeared; and
the women were speedily in a turmoil of stringing, shelling, cutting,
washing, and stewing.
Lenora herself did not shun her part in these humble duties, and amused
her companions by the pleasant chat with which she whiled away the
hours. The rustics, who had rarely enjoyed an opportunity of seeing her
so closely or of enjoying a familiar conversation with the beauty, were
of course delighted with her gay and affable manners; nor could they
avoid expressing their pleasure when a few notes of a popular song
happened to drop from Lenora's lips.
The servant-maid instantly rose, and whispered, loud enough to be heard
by Lenora,--
"Oh, pray, do beg _mademoiselle_ to sing a verse or two of that song! I
heard it at a distance the other day; and it was so beautiful that, fool
as I am, I blubbered like a baby for half an hour behind the
rose-bushes. And yet I think it was rather her sweet voice than the
words that made me cry."
"Oh, yes! do sing it for us; it would give us so much pleasure! Your
voice is like a nightingale's; and I remember too, that my poor
mother--alas! she is long ago in heaven--used to sing me to sleep with
that blessed song. Pray, sing it for us, _mademoiselle_.
"It's very long,"' said Lenora, smiling.
"But if you only sing averse or two; it is a holiday with us, you know,
_mademoiselle!_"
"Well," returned Lenora, musingly, "if it will make you happy why should
I refuse? Listen:--
"Beside a deep and rapid stream
A lonely maiden sat;
With sighs her snowy bosom heaved,
And tears bedewed the ground!
"A noble walked along the bank
And saw her bitter grief;
And, as her tears overflowed his heart,
It melted for the maid!"
'Speak, maiden, speak!' the wanderer cried!
'Why moan you here alone?'--
'Ah, sir, an orphan-child am I,
Whom God alone can save!
'Ah! seest thou not yon grassy mound
There sleeps my mother dear.
Behold yon rock, above the flood;
There fell my father down!
'The whirling torrent bore him on;
He struggled long in vain;
My brother leaped to help his sire,
And both together sank!
'And now I fly our silent hut,
Where desolation dwells,
To mourn upon this dreary bank,
And watch the wave and grave!'
'No longer grieve,' the stranger said,
'Thy heart shall ache no more;
A father and a brother too
To thee, poor lonely girl, I'll be!'
"He took her hand; he led her off;
In garments rich he clad the maid;
Before the altar promised love,
And blessed her life in happy home!"[A]
[Footnote A: This simple and popular ballad, known in the Campine as
_The Orphan_, is sung by all classes to an air which is full of touching
melody.]
As Lenora was about beginning the last verse of her song De Vlierbeck
appeared on the sill of the kitchen door, and the peasants instantly
rose in alarm at the freedom with which they were sitting in the
presence of their young mistress, listening to her songs; but the poor
gentleman at once understood the meaning of her action, and with a
gesture of approval signaled them to be quiet. As the last words died on
his ear,--"I'm glad to see you amusing yourselves," said he; "but, now
that the song is ended, I want your services in another quarter, my good
woman."
Followed by Bess, the farmer's wife, he ascended to the dining-room,
where the table-cloth was already laid and every thing in order for the
reception of the dishes. Bessy's son was already there in livery, with a
napkin over his arm; and De Vlierbeck immediately began to assign them
their several tasks during the service of dinner, and to repeat and
drill them in their tasks till he was perfectly satisfied with their
performances.
The hour for dinner was at length near at hand. Every thing was ready in
the kitchen, and all were at their posts. Lenora, in full dress and with
a palpitating heart, lingered in her chamber; while her father, with a
book which he appeared to be reading, sat beneath the _catalpa_ in the
garden.
It was about two o'clock when a splendid equipage, drawn by a pair of
superb English horses, entered the demesne of Grinselhof and drew up in
front of the portal. De Vlierbeck welcomed his guests courteously, and
Monsieur Denecker gave orders to the coachman to return precisely at
five o'clock, as matters of importance required his presence in Antwerp
before nightfall.
Denecker was a large, stout person, dressed rather extravagantly, but in
a style of studied carelessness which he evidently regarded as stylish.
The expression of his face, it must be owned, was rather vulgar, and
exhibited a compound of cunning and good-nature tempered by
indifference. But Gustave, his nephew, belonged to an entirely different
class of persons. His tall figure was graceful and easy, his countenance
frank and manly, and his whole demeanor denoted refined manners and high
cultivation. Blue eyes and blonde hair imparted a poetic air to his
head; but an energetic glance and lofty brow took from it every
expression of sentimental weakness.
No sooner had De Vlierbeck presented his guests to Lenora, in the
saloon, than Denecker broke forth in exclamations of undisguised
admiration--
"How charming, how beautiful she is! and yet so hidden in this
Grinselhof of yours, Monsieur de Vlierbeck! What a shame, sir! what a
shame!"
In the mean time Gustave and Lenora had moved off to a short distance
from the old gentlemen, and were busy in a chat of their own, inaudible
to the rest but evidently interesting to themselves, for they were
observed not only to blush but tremble. Denecker, in fact, could not
help observing the young people's emotion; and, as De Vlierbeck passed
down the saloon with him, remarked that the young beauty was evidently
turning his nephew's head. "He talks of her constantly," said he, "and I
don't know what may come of it; but I give you fair warning, Monsieur De
Vlierbeck, if you are unwilling to see something more than compliments
between these children you had better take time by the forelock. It will
soon be too late to reason with them; for my nephew, with all his calm
gentleness, is not the man to retreat before difficulties."
De Vlierbeck was secretly delighted by the merchant's counsels, but was
too wise to display anxiety.
"You are joking, Monsieur Denecker," said he: "I can't think there is a
particle of danger. They are both young, and there is nothing surprising
in mutual attraction under such circumstances. There can hardly be any
thing serious in their intercourse. But, come," added he, aloud; "I
perceive that dinner is served; and so let us adjourn to the table!"
Gustave led in the blushing girl, and the elders followed admiringly in
their rear, while the merchant shook his finger coquettishly at his
gallant nephew. De Vlierbeck placed Monsieur Denecker opposite him at
table, and made Gustave the _vis-à-vis_ of Lenora.
Bess brought in the dishes, while her son waited on the guests. The
viands were prepared with considerable skill, and Denecker took frequent
occasion to express his satisfaction with their exquisite flavor. In
truth, he was rather surprised at the sumptuousness of the repast; for
he had been prepared to expect lenten fare in a household which was
renowned throughout the neighborhood for its austere economy.
In a short time the conversation became general; and Lenora astonished
Monsieur Denecker by the extent of her information and the admirable
style in which she expressed herself and did the honors of the table.
But, notwithstanding her ease and freedom while conversing with the
uncle, an observer could not help detecting that she was shy, if not
absolutely embarrassed, when obliged to reply to some casual remark of
the nephew. Nor was Gustave more at ease than the maiden. In fact, they
were both happy at heart because fate had thrown them together; but they
would have been quite willing to enjoy that delicious silence which in
love is often more eloquent than in language.
In the mean while De Vlierbeck rattled away, with the ease of a man of
the world, on all subjects that might interest his guests; yet he
listened, with equal good manners, to Denecker's conversation, and now
and then adroitly threw in such hints as allowed him to speak learnedly
upon commercial matters. The merchant was gratified by his deferential
civility, and was drawn toward his entertainer by a stronger bond than
that of mere social politeness.
Indeed, all went on swimmingly, and all were pleased with themselves.
De Vlierbeck was especially gratified to find that Bess and her boy
performed their tasks so well, and that the spoons and plates were so
quickly washed and brought back that it was impossible to notice the
deficiency of their number. One thing alone began to worry him. He saw
with pain that while Denecker was busy with his food and chat he was
equally busy with the wine, and that glass after glass disappeared with
more rapidity than was agreeable to his supply. Besides this, Gustave,
who was probably anxious for some excuse to have a word with Lenora upon
any pretext, constantly asked permission to fill her glass; so that,
very soon after the soup and meat had been disposed of, the first bottle
was entirely emptied.
Civility required that it should be immediately replaced; and, as De
Vlierbeck observed that the more Monsieur Denecker talked the more he
drank, he thought he might try whether less conversation would not
moderate the merchant's thirst. But, alas! he was disappointed; for at
that moment Denecker introduced the topic of wine, and, lauding the
generous juice of the grape, expressed surprise at the extraordinary
sobriety of his host. With this he redoubled his attack on the bottle,
and was in some degree, though less vigorously, seconded by Gustave. De
Vlierbeck's agony became more and more intense as he saw the rosy fluid
sink and sink in the second bottle, until at length the last drop was
drained into the merchant's glass.
"Yes," said Denecker, "your wine is both old and good; but I have
always found, in tasting liquors, that if we don't change them we lose
their flavor. I take it for granted that you have a first-rate cellar,
if I may judge by your first samples; so I propose that we now try a
bottle of your _Château-margaux_; and, if we have time, we can finish
with a bottle of _hochheimer_. I never drink _champagne_: it is a bad
liquor for wine-drinkers."
As the last words fell from Denecker, poor De Vlierbeck grew deadly
pale, as his frightened spirit went rummaging through the cracks and
crannies of his brain for some inspiration or expedient which might
extricate him from his deep perplexity.
"_Château-margaux?_" inquired he, with a calm smile. "Certainly, sir, if
you wish it." And then, turning to the lackey,--"John," said he, "bring
a bottle of _Château-margaux_: you will find it in the third cellar on
the left-hand side."
But the rustic stared at his master with gaping mouth, as if he had been
addressed in one of the dead languages. Seeing the predicament, and
mastering it rapidly,--
"Excuse me," said De Vlierbeck, rising; "he would not find it, I fear. I
will be back in a moment."
Rushing into the kitchen, he seized the third and last bottle and
descended to the cellar, where he stopped to draw breath and compose
himself.
"_Château-margaux! hochheimer! champagne!"_ exclaimed poor De
Vlierbeck, "and not another drop of wine in my house but what is in this
last bottle of claret! What _shall_ I do? what _can_ I do?" continued
he, as he held the cobwebbed bottle in one hand and stroked his chin
with the other. "But no matter: there's no time for reflection: the die
is cast, and may God help me in my need!"
He ascended the stair, entered the dining-room with the corkscrew in the
last cork, and found that during his absence Lenora had ordered fresh
glasses on the table.
"This wine," said De Vlierbeck, holding the bottle knowingly to the
light, "is at least twenty years old, Monsieur Denecker, and I sincerely
hope it will please your palate." So saying, he filled the glasses of
uncle and nephew, and gazed anxiously in their faces for the verdict.
Denecker tasted the wine, drop by drop, like an epicure, and, shaking
his head disappointedly,--
"There's a mistake, doubtless," said he; "for it's the identical wine we
had before."
De Vlierbeck feigned surprise admirably, tasted the wine in turn, and
replied,--
"I _believe_ you are right, and that I _have_ made a mistake; yet, as
the bottle is opened and not bad, suppose we drink it before I make
another descent to the cellar' There's abundance of time."
"I've no objection," answered the merchant, "provided you help us, so as
to get through it the quicker." And so the column in the third and last
bottle diminished more rapidly than its predecessors, till two or three
glasses alone remained at the bottom to crown the festival.
Poor De Vlierbeck could no longer conceal his agitation. He tried to
keep his eyes off the fatal bottle; but a sort of fascination drew him
back to it, and each time with increased anxiety. That dreadful word
'_Château-margaux_' rang in his ears. His face blushed and grew pale,
and a cold, clammy sweat stood in big beads on his forehead. Yet he felt
that he had not entirely exhausted his resources, and resolved to fight
the battle of humiliation to the end. He wiped his brow and cheeks,
coughed, and turned aside as if about to sneeze. By dint of these
manoeuvres he continued to conceal his nervousness till Denecker grasped
the bottle to pour out its last drop. As he clasped the neck, a chill
seized the hysterical frame of the poor gentleman, a deadly paleness
overspread his features, and his head fell with a groan against the tall
back of the chair. Was it in truth a fainting-fit, or did the sufferer
take advantage of his emotion to play a part and escape the
embarrassment of his situation?
In a moment the whole party were on their feet, while Lenora screamed
and ran to her father.
"It's nothing," said De Vlierbeck, striving, after a minute or two, to
rally himself. "I am faint; the confined air of this room overcame me.
Let me walk a while in the garden and I will soon be better."
As he said this he staggered to his feet, and, supported by Lenora and
Gustave, moved toward the garden, followed by Denecker with an
expression of the deepest concern. A short rest in the open air beneath
the shade of a noble chestnut-tree quickly restored a faint color to De
Vlierbeck's cheek and enabled him to tranquillize their anxiety about
his sudden attack.
"I will rest here a while out of doors," said he, "for fear the fit
might return; and perhaps a slow walk in the garden might hasten my
recovery."
"It will do both of us good," answered Denecker; "and, besides, as I
have to quit you at five o'clock, I don't want to leave Grinselhof
without seeing its garden. Let us take a turn through your walks, and
afterward we shall have time enough to finish another bottle."
As he said this he passed Lenora's arm within his own, and, casting a
coquettish glance at Gustave, began their promenade. By degrees De
Vlierbeck rallied sufficiently to take part in the chat; and gardening,
agriculture, sporting, and a hundred different country topics, were
fully discussed. Lenora recovered her spirits and charmed their
commercial guest by the mingled charms of her intellectual cleverness
and innocent gayety. Wild as a deer, she dared him to run a race with
her, and danced along the paths by his side full of mirth and
sportiveness. In truth, Denecker was altogether captivated by the
ingenuous girl, and, as he looked on her radiant face, could not help
thinking that the future had some happy days in store for his gallant
nephew. After a while Lenora strayed off in advance with Gustave, while
the two elders lingered lazily along the path. Gustave was charmed with
the flowers, the plants, the gold-fish, which Lenora pointed out to him;
nor was he at all desirous to shorten their delicious flirtation by
returning to the table. This chimed precisely with the anxiety of De
Vlierbeck, who employed every stratagem he could conceive to keep his
guest in the open air. He told stories, repeated jokes, appealed to
Denecker's commercial knowledge, and even quizzed him a little when he
found their conversation beginning to flag. In fact, he was rejoicing
that five o'clock, and, of course, the carriage, were rapidly
approaching, when Denecker suddenly recalled his nephew from a distant
quarter of the garden where he was strolling with Lenora.
"Come, Gustave; come," said he; "if you wish to drink a parting glass
with us let us get in, for the coach will be here in a moment."
De Vlierbeck instantly became pale as a sheet, and, trembling from head
to foot, stared silently at Denecker, who could no longer restrain his
surprise at these exhibitions.
"Are you ill, sir?" said he.
"My stomach is a singular one, Monsieur Denecker, and I suffer spasms if
you even mention _wine!_ It is a strange malady; but--Oh, I hear your
coach, Monsieur Denecker; and there it is, drawing up, I see, at the
gateway."
Of course Denecker spoke no more of wine; but, as he could not help
noticing the alacrity with which De Vlierbeck hailed the prospect of his
departure, he would have been deeply mortified, if not offended, had not
the previous hospitality of his host satisfied him of their welcome. He
thought, perhaps, that he ought to attribute his entertainer's conduct
to some singular nervous disease which he masked under an antipathy for
wine; and accordingly he took leave with a warm and friendly farewell.
"I have passed a delightful afternoon with you, Monsieur De Vlierbeck,"
said he. "We have found ourselves, I am sure, extremely happy in your
and your daughter's charming society. It is a pleasure added to my life
to have made your acquaintance; and I hope that further intimacy may
assure me your friendship. In the mean while, let me thank you from the
bottom of my heart for your kind reception."
As he finished the sentence, Lenora and Gustave joined them.
"My nephew," continued Denecker, "will confess, as I have done, that he
has spent few happier hours than those that are just gone. I hope,
Monsieur de Vlierbeck, that you and your charming daughter will return
our visit and dine with us. Yet I shall have to ask your pardon for
postponing the pleasure it will afford us till I return from Frankfort,
where I am summoned, the day after to-morrow, on urgent business. It is
probable I may be detained away a couple of months; but if my nephew
should be allowed to visit you in my absence let me hope he will be
welcome."
De Vlierbeck reiterated his professions of delight at the new
acquaintance; Lenora was silent; and Denecker moved off toward the
coach.
"But the parting glass, uncle!" exclaimed Gustave. "Let us go in for a
moment and drink it."
"No, no," said Denecker, interrupting him tartly. "I believe we would
never get hence at all if we listened to you. It is time to be off, and
I can delay no longer. Adieu!"
Gustave and Lenora exchanged a long and anxious look, full of regret at
separation and of hope for speedy reunion. In a moment the uncle and
nephew were in the vehicle and the spirited horses in motion; but, as
long as the group was in sight at the gate, a couple of white-gloved
hands might have been seen waving farewells from the coach-window.