THE FIRST BALL.
Il est amiable, car on se sent toujours en danger avec lui.
Before Maud had been many weeks with the Vernons there was a Garrison
Ball, and at this it was fated that she should make her first public
appearance in Dustypore society. That night was certainly the most
eventful and exciting one that she had ever passed. To wake and find
one's self famous is no doubt an agreeable sensation; but to put on for
the first time in one's life a lovely ball-dress, bright, cloudlike,
ambrosial--to be suddenly elevated to a pinnacle to receive the homage
of mankind--to exercise a pleasant little capricious tyranny in the
selection of partners--to be seized upon by one anxious adorer after
another, all striving to please, each with a little flattering tale of
his own--to read in a hundred eyes that one is very pretty--to find at
last a partner who, from some mysterious reason, is not like other
partners, but just perfection--to know that one's views about him are
entirely reciprocated--it was, as Maud, on going to bed, acknowledged to
herself with a sigh, which was half fatigue and half the utterance of an
over-excited temperament, too much enjoyment for a single human soul to
carry!
In the first place, Sutton, all ablaze with medals, tall, majestic,
impressive, and as Maud had come to think with Felicia, undeniably
handsome, had begged her in the morning to keep several dances for him.
The prospect of this among other things had put her in a flutter. She
would have preferred some of the ensigns. It seemed a sort of alarming
familiarity. Could such a being valse and bend, as ordinary mortals do,
to the commonplace movements of a mere quadrille? It was one thing to go
spinning round with another school-girl, under the superintendence of
Madame Millville, to the accompaniment of her husband's violin: but to
be taken possession of by a being like Sutton--to have to write his name
down for two valses and a set of Lancers--to know that in five minutes
one will be whirling about under his guidance--the idea was delightful,
but not without a touch of awe! Sutton, however, quieted these alarms by
dancing in a rather ponderous and old-fashioned manner, and finally
tearing her dress with his spur. Maud had accordingly to be carried off,
in order that the damage might be repaired; and--her mind somewhat
lightened by the sense of responsibility discharged and the ice
satisfactorily broken--looked forward to the rest of the evening with
ummingled pleasure. While her torn dress was being set to rights she
scanned her card, saw Sutton's name duly registered for his promised
dances, and made up her mind, as she compared him with the rest, that
there was no one in the room she liked one-half as well.
But then she had not danced with Desvoeux; and Desvoeux was now waiting
at the door and imploring her not to curtail the rapture of a valse, the
first notes of which had already sounded. Desvoeux's dancing, Maud
speedily acknowledged to herself, bore about the same relation to
Sutton's that her Arab pony's canter did to the imposing movements of
the latter gentleman's first charger. His tongue, too, seemed as nimble
as his feet. He was in the highest possible spirits, and the careless,
joyous extravagance of his talk struck a sympathetic chord in his
companion's nature.
'There!' he cried, as the last notes of the music died away and he
brought his companion to a standstill at a comfortable sofa, 'Such a
valse as that is a joy for ever--a thing to dream of, is it not? Some
ladies, you know, Miss Vernon, dance in epic poems, some in the sternest
prose--Carlyle, for instance--some in sweet-flowing, undulating,
rippling lyrics: Yours is (what shall I say?) an ode of Shelley's or a
song from Tennyson, a smile from Paradise! Where can you have learnt
it?'
'Monsieur Millville taught us all at my school,' said Maud, prosaically
mindful of the many battles she had had in former days with that
gentleman: 'a horrid little wizened Frenchman, with a fiddle. We all
hated him. He was always going on at me about my toes.'
'Your toes!' cried Desvoeux, with effusion: 'He wanted to adore them, as
I do--sweet points where all the concentrated poetry of your being
gathers. Put out that fairy little satin shoe and let me adore them
too!'
'No, thank you!' cried Maud, greatly taken aback at so unexpected a
request, gathering her feet instinctively beneath her; 'it's not the
fashion!'
'You will not?' Desvoeux said, with a tone of sincere disappointment.
'Is not that unkind? Suppose it was the fashion to cover up your hands
in tulle and satin and never to show them?'
'Then,' Maud said, laughing, 'you would not be able to adore them
either; as it is, you see, you may worship them as much as you please!'
'I have been worshipping them all the evening. They are lovely--a little
pair of sprites.'
'Stop!' cried Maud, 'and let me see. My shoes are fairies, and my
dancing a poem, and my fingers sprites! How very poetical! And, pray, is
this the sort of way that people always talk at balls?'
'Not most people,' said Desvoeux, unabashed, 'because they are geese and
talk in grooves--about the weather and the last appointment and the
freshest bit of stale gossip; but it is the way _I_ talk, because I only
say what I feel and am perfectly natural.'
'Natural!' said Maud, in a tone of some surprise, for her companion's
romantic extravagance seemed to her to be the very climax of unreality.
'Yes,' said Desvoeux, coolly, 'and that is one reason why all women like
me; partly it is for my good looks, of course, and partly for my
dancing, but mostly because I am natural and tell the truth to them.'
'And partly, I suppose,' said Maud, who began to think her companion was
in great need of setting down, 'because you are so modest?'
'As to that, I am just as modest as my neighbours, only I speak out. One
knows when one is good-looking, does one not? and why pretend to be a
simpleton? You know, for instance, how very, very pretty you are looking
to-night!'
'We were talking about _you_, if you please,' said Maud, blushing
scarlet, and conscious of a truth of which her mirror had informed her.
'Agreeable topic,' said the other gaily; 'let us return to it by all
means! Well, now, I pique myself on being natural. When I am bored I
yawn or go away; when I dislike people I show my teeth and snarl; and
when I lose my heart I don't suffer in silence, but inform the fair
purloiner of that valuable organ of the theft without hesitation. That
is honest, at any rate. For instance, I pressed your hand to-night, when
you came in first, to tell you how delighted I was that you were come to
be the belle of the party. You did not mind it, you know!'
'I thought you very impertinent,' said Maud, laughing in spite of
herself; 'and so I think you now, and very conceited into the bargain.
Will you take me to have some tea, please?'
'With all my heart,' said the other; 'but we can go on with our talk.
How nice it is that we are such friends, is it not?'
'I did not know that we were friends,' said Maud, 'and I have not even
made up my mind if I like you.'
'Hypocrite!' answered her companion; 'you know you took a great fancy to
me the first morning I came to call on you, and Mrs. Vernon scolded you
for it after my departure.'
'It is not true,' said Maud, with a stammer and a blush, for Desvoeux's
shot was, unfortunately, near the mark; 'and anyhow, first impressions
are generally wrong.'
'Wrong!' cried the other, 'never, never! always infallible. Mrs. Vernon
abused me directly I was gone. She always does; it is her one fault,
that prevents her from being absolute perfection. She does not like me,
and is always putting me down. It is a great shame, because she has been
till now the one lady in India whom I really admire. But let us
establish ourselves on this nice ottoman, and I will show you some of
our celebrities. Look at that handsome couple talking so mysteriously on
the sofa: that is General Beau and Mrs. Vereker, and they are talking
about nothing more mysterious than the weather; but it is the General's
fancy to look mysterious. Do you see how he is shrugging his shoulders?
Well, to that shrug he owes everything in life. Whatever happens, he
either shrugs his shoulders, or arches his eyebrows, or says "Ah!"
Beyond these utterances he never goes; but he knows exactly when to do
each, and does it so judiciously that he has become a great man. He is
great at nothing, however, but flirtation; and Mrs. Vereker is just now
the reigning deity.'
'No wonder,' cried Maud. 'How lovely she is! such beautiful violet
eyes!'
'Yes,' said the other, with a most pathetic air, 'most dangerous eyes
they are, I assure you. You don't feel it, not being a man, but they go
through and through me. She always has a numerous following, especially
of boys, and has broken a host of hearts, which is all the more unfair,
as she does not happen to possess one of her own.'
'She must have a heart, with those eyes and such a smile,' objected
Maud.
'Not the least atom, I assure you,' said the other. 'Nature, in
lavishing every other grace and charm upon her, made this single
omission, much, no doubt, to the lady's own peace of mind. It is all
right in the present instance, because Beau does not happen to have any
heart either.'
'I don't believe you in the least,' said Maud, 'and I shall get my
cousin to take me to call upon her.'
'You are fascinated, you see, already,' said Desvoeux, 'though you are a
woman. You will find her a perfect Circe. Her drawing-room is an
enchanted cell hung round with votive offerings from former victims. She
lives on the gifts of worshippers, and will accept everything, from a
sealskin jacket to a pair of gloves. I used to be an adorer once, but I
could not afford it. Now I will introduce you.' Thereupon he presented
Maud in due form.
General Beau arched his handsome brow, and said, 'Ah! how dy'e do, Miss
Vernon?' in his inscrutable way; and Mrs. Vereker, who, as a reigning
beauty, felt an especial interest in one who seemed likely to endanger
her ascendency, was bent on being polite. She gave Maud the sweetest of
smiles, scolded Desvoeux with the prettiest little pout for not having
been to see her for an age; and, if she felt jealous, was determined, at
any rate, not to show it. She observed, however, with the eye of a
connoisseur, how Maud's hair was done, and took a mental note of a
little mystery of lace and feathers, just then the fashionable
head-dress, which she thought would be immensely becoming to herself.
She pressed Maud affectionately to come some day to lunch and inwardly
resolved to spoil the pretty _ingénue_ of her novelty.
Mrs. Vereker was a type of character which Indian life brings into
especial prominence and develops into fuller perfection than is to be
found in less artificial communities. Herself the child of Indian
parents, whom she had scarcely ever seen, with the slenderest possible
stock of home associations, accustomed from the outset to have to look
out for herself, she had come to India while still almost a child, and
in a few months, long before thought or feeling had approached
maturity, had found herself the belle of a Station, and presently a
bride. Then circumstances separated her frequently from her husband, and
she learnt to bear separation heroically. The sweet incense of flattery
was for ever rising about her, and she learnt to love it better every
day. Any number of men were for ever ready to throw themselves at her
feet and proclaim her adorable, and she came to feel it right that they
should do so. She found that she could conjure with her eyes and mouth
and exercise a little despotism by simply using them as Nature told her.
The coldness of her heart enabled her to venture with impunity into
dangers where an ardent temperament could scarcely but have gone astray:
she, however, was content so long as she lived in a stream of flattery
and half-a-dozen men declared themselves heartbroken about her; strict
people called her a flirt, but friends and foes alike declared her
innocence itself.
Beau was devoting himself to her partly because her good looks gave him
a slight sense of gratification, partly because he considered it the
proper thing to be seen on confidential terms with the handsomest woman
in the room, partly to have the pleasure of holding his own against the
younger men.
Desvoeux, delighted with his new-found treasure, was only too happy to
leave a quondam rival in possession of the field, and to have a decent
excuse for abandoning a shrine at which it was no longer convenient to
worship.