THE FANCY BALL.
The result of Mrs. Mason's latest reconciliation with the man she
honestly believed to be her husband, was soon made visible in more
lavish expenditure, and a display in her entertainments never attempted
before.
An exuberant taste kept her always on the alert. The constant suggestion
of some extravagant novelty became an habitual stimulant, now that home
affection had become a hopeless thing with her.
During the season of moroseful discontent which we have described,
Nelson had checked this wanton craving for display by less liberal
supplies of money; but now that he was grateful and generous again, the
fever burst forth in new vigor. One of her fashionable friends had just
given a fancy ball, where the flowers alone cost a little fortune. Mrs.
Nelson was not to be distanced thus in extravagance. She would give an
entertainment before which that of her rival should wither into
insignificance, like the roses swept from her banqueting hall the
morning after that great triumph. This had been a leading motive for the
interview described in another chapter. With a few smiles and caressing
words she had won a new hold upon the purse, which opened grudgingly
only when she grew neglectful or insolent by a repletion of her wishes.
Mrs. Nelson's rival had given a fancy ball at one of the principal
watering-places, which certainly had proved the great success of the
season. She would do something better than that. Her ball should rival
royalty. It should be quoted in our republican society as the charming
entertainments of Maria Antoinette, in her little palace in the Park at
Versailles, became the conversation of all France.
The weather was lovely. Summer had just melted into the golden autumn.
The atmosphere was delicious with fruity odors, in which the breath of
late flowers mingled in sensuous richness. This was the season for her
grand effort. Society had just come back from the springs and the
fashionable watering-places, eager for something new. Her friends should
be gratified; nay, astonished. She would throw that entire mansion open.
Its rich draperies, its statues and bronzes, the frescoed ceilings, and
rare pictures. All should flash upon the world at once. She would
illuminate the grounds, weigh down the old forest trees with a fruitage
of lights, build pavilions and rustic bridges. Nothing should be omitted
to turn her residence into a paradise.
This was all accomplished. As if to crown her triumph, a moon, just
swelling from its crescent, came out among the bright stars, and shone
with peculiar radiance that evening. Every thing smiled upon this woman.
Officious menials in livery crowded her halls--her supper room was one
bower of blossoms; delicious fruits nestled in them, and mingled still
more ruddy tints with their bloom; cut-glass shone through their leaves
like gushes of water; silver glittered through them like frost work; and
heavy garlands clambered up the pillars that supported the frescoed
ceiling, forming light colonnades on each side, where mirrors reflected
every thing, as lovely landscapes are seen sleeping in a lake--the
shadows more beautiful than the substance.
Down from her dressing-room, rustling in white silk, embroidered with
silver flowers, that shimmered like moonlight among the heavy folds,
came the mistress of this festival, superb in her own beauty, with
jewels flashing on her bare neck and arms, and lighting up her heavy
tresses like clustering stars.
Nelson met her on the broad staircase. He was grave and sad. These
ostentatious entertainments were against his taste, and always
displeased him. This evening a heavier weight than usual fell upon his
spirits; even the rare loveliness of his wife failed to win a smile to
his lips.
She held out her hand, smiling radiantly upon him. Her triumph was
certain. Nothing like the scene that broke upon her through the open
door had met her eye before. She could afford to smile on the man whose
gold had opened this paradise to her ambition. He made no response, but
sighing heavily, turned at her request and walked by her side through
the sumptuous rooms. She was exultant; the effect surpassed her
expectations. The tread of her silken-clad feet on the marble floor and
moss-like carpets was like that of an empress, but it annoyed her that
Nelson took no part in her joy. She observed that he turned away with
uneasiness whenever she lifted her arm to point out a beautiful object
or some peculiar effect. She did not know that the flash of those jewels
which clasped her snow-white arm was like the glitter of a serpent to
him. A thousand times he had wished those diamonds at the bottom of the
ocean.
Those jewels reminded him of so much that he would have given worlds to
forget. They brought to his mind that palace home at Port au Prince,
where he had stolen at night in search of the treasures which, in the
end, tempted that woman to become his wife. He remembered the horrid
scene in that cellar. He remembered the descent of Captain Mason upon
him just as he was breaking open the vault where the wealth of many a
rich man lay buried--the honest indignation of that noble face--the cold
protest. Then the crowd of negro fiends that rushed upon them, reeling
with drunkenness, gnashing their white teeth, and emitting gleams of
hatred from their bloodshot eyes. He remembered how the crowbar had
fallen from his hands, and felt anew the thrill with which he had
pointed out Captain Mason to the vengeance of these demons.
No wonder he shuddered and turned away sick with loathing of the jewels.
By eternal tortures, such as pressed upon him now, he had bought them,
and, through them, the woman whose cold beauty they adorned.
They were the embodiment of his crimes. Why would she wear them? Could
she not guess that every rainbow flash that came from her person filled
his brain with pictures of blood? Would she never permit him to forget
the riot of that awful night, when the brave man, whose wife she had
been, was dragged lifeless along the muddy floor of the cellar, and
carried off to be flung in the heaps of slain humanity which blocked up
the streets of Port au Prince after the carnage which makes men shudder
yet, even in remembrance?
She wanted him to be happy, and yet persisted in wearing those things.
True, he had never dared to object, they were hers. He had bought her
with them; what excuse could he make for the loathing with which he
regarded their display?
She saw the pallor of his countenance and laughed.
"How strange," she said, surveying herself in a mirror, and changing one
of the ornaments in her hair, "how strange, Nelson, that you never can
accustom yourself to society. The very expectation of doing the honors
of your own house to a fashionable crowd makes a coward of you; while
I--well, it is true we ladies do adapt ourselves to circumstances better
than men. Confess this, husband, and I will permit you to tie the laces
of this slipper; see, they have broken loose."
Nelson, still grave and sad, dropped on one knee, and tied the laces
around that exquisitely turned ankle. She laughed at his awkwardness,
and spurned him playfully with her foot when the task was done.
"Come, now, I hear a carriage. It is early, but our guests are
impatient, I suppose. No wonder; it is not often they will see any thing
like this. Come, you must help me receive, or people will think I am
ashamed of my husband."