On the same day in which Graham dined with the Savarins, M. Louvier
assembled round his table the elite of the young Parisians who
constituted the oligarchy of fashion, to meet whom he had invited his new
friend the Marquis de Rochebriant. Most of them belonged to the
Legitimist party, the noblesse of the faubourg; those who did not,
belonged to no political party at all,--indifferent to the cares of
mortal States as the gods of Epicurus. Foremost among this _Jeunesse
doree_ were Alain's kinsmen, Raoul and Enguerrand de Vandemar. To these
Louvier introduced him with a burly parental bonhomie, as if he were the
head of the family. "I need not bid you, young folks, to make friends
with each other. A Vandemar and a Rochebriant are not made friends,--
they are born friends." So saying he turned to his other guests.
Almost in an instant Alain felt his constraint melt away in the cordial
warmth with which his cousins greeted him. These young men had a
striking family likeness to each other, and yet in feature, colouring,
and expression, in all save that strange family likeness, they were
contrasts. Raoul was tall, and, though inclined to be slender, with
sufficient breadth of shoulder to indicate no inconsiderable strength of
frame. His hair worn short and his silky beard worn long were dark; so
were his eyes, shaded by curved drooping lashes; his complexion was pale,
but clear and healthful. In repose the expression of his face was that
of a somewhat melancholy indolence, but in speaking it became singularly
sweet, with a smile of the exquisite urbanity which no artificial
politeness can bestow; it must emanate from that native high breeding
which has its source in goodness of heart.
Enguerrand was fair, with curly locks of a golden chestnut. He wore no
beard, only a small mustache rather darker than his hair. His complexion
might in itself be called effeminate, its bloom was so fresh and
delicate; but there was so much of boldness and energy in the play of his
countenance, the hardy outline of the lips, and the open breadth of the
forehead, that "effeminate" was an epithet no one ever assigned to his
aspect. He was somewhat under the middle height, but beautifully
proportioned, carried himself well, and somehow or other did not look
short even by the side of tall men. Altogether he seemed formed to be a
mother's darling, and spoiled by women, yet to hold his own among men
with a strength of will more evident in his look and his bearing than it
was in those of his graver and statelier brother.
Both were considered by their young co-equals models in dress, but in
Raoul there was no sign that care or thought upon dress had been
bestowed; the simplicity of his costume was absolute and severe. On his
plain shirt-front there gleamed not a stud, on his fingers there sparkled
not a ring. Enguerrand, on the contrary, was not without pretension in
his attire; the broderie in his shirt-front seemed woven by the Queen of
the Fairies. His rings of turquoise and opal, his studs and wrist-
buttons of pearl and brilliants, must have cost double the rental of
Rochebriant, but probably they cost him nothing. He was one of those
happy Lotharios to whom Calistas make constant presents. All about him
was so bright that the atmosphere around seemed gayer for his presence.
In one respect at least the brothers closely resembled each other,--in
that exquisite graciousness of manner for which the genuine French noble
is traditionally renowned; a graciousness that did not desert them even
when they came reluctantly into contact with _roturiers_ or republicans;
but the graciousness became _egalite, fraternite_, towards one of their
caste and kindred.
"We must do our best to make Paris pleasant to you," said Raoul, still
retaining in his grasp the hand he had taken.
"_Vilain cousin_," said the livelier Enguerrand, "to have been in Paris
twenty-four hours, and without letting us know."
"Has not your father told you that I called upon him?"
"Our father," answered Raoul, "was not so savage as to conceal that fact;
but he said you were only here on business for a day or two, had declined
his invitation, and would not give your address. _Pauvre pere_! we
scolded him well for letting you escape from us thus. My mother has not
forgiven him yet; we must present you to her to-morrow. I answer for
your liking her almost as much as she will like you."
Before Alain could answer dinner was announced. Alain's place at dinner
was between his cousins. How pleasant they made themselves! It was the
first time in which Alain had been brought into such familiar
conversation with countrymen of his own rank as well as his own age. His
heart warmed to them. The general talk of the other guests was strange
to his ear; it ran much upon horses and races, upon the opera and the
ballet; it was enlivened with satirical anecdotes of persons whose names
were unknown to the Provincial; not a word was said that showed the
smallest interest in politics or the slightest acquaintance with
literature. The world of these well-born guests seemed one from which
all that concerned the great mass of mankind was excluded, yet the talk
was that which could only be found in a very polished society. In it
there was not much wit, but there was a prevalent vein of gayety, and the
gayety was never violent, the laughter was never loud; the scandals
circulated might imply cynicism the most absolute, but in language the
most refined. The Jockey Club of Paris has its perfume.
Raoul did not mix in the general conversation; he devoted himself
pointedly to the amusement of his cousin, explaining to him the point of
the anecdotes circulated, or hitting off in terse sentences the
characters of the talkers.
Enguerrand was evidently of temper more vivacious than his brother, and
contributed freely to the current play of light gossip and mirthful
sally.
Louvier, seated between a duke and a Russian prince, said little except
to recommend a wine or an entree, but kept his eye constantly on the
Vandemars and Alain.
Immediately after coffee the guests departed. Before they did so,
however, Raoul introduced his cousin to those of the party most
distinguished by hereditary rank or social position. With these the name
of Rochebriant was too historically famous not to insure respect of its
owner; they welcomed him among them as if he were their brother.
The French duke claimed him as a connection by an alliance in the
fourteenth century; the Russian prince had known the late Marquis, and
trusted that the son would allow him to improve into friendship the
acquaintance he had formed with the father.
Those ceremonials over, Raoul linked his arm in Alain's and said: "I am
not going to release you so soon after we have caught you. You must come
with me to a house in which I at least spend an hour or two every
evening. I am at home there. Bah! I take no refusal. Do not suppose I
carry you off to Bohemia,--a country which, I am sorry to say, Enguerrand
now and then visits, but which is to me as unknown as the mountains of
the moon. The house I speak of is _comme il faut_ to the utmost. It is
that of the Contessa di Rimini,--a charming Italian by marriage, but by
birth and in character _on ne peut plus Francaise_. My mother adores
her."
That dinner at M. Louvier's had already effected a great change in the
mood and temper of Alain de Rochebriant; he felt, as if by magic, the
sense of youth, of rank, of station, which had been so suddenly checked
and stifled, warmed to life within his veins. He should have deemed
himself a boor had he refused the invitation so frankly tendered.
But on reaching the _coupe_ which the brothers kept in common, and seeing
it only held two, he drew back.
"Nay, enter, mon cher," said Raoul, divining the cause of his hesitation;
"Enguerrand has gone on to his club."