LE REDOUTE MONSTRE.
Alison found herself in a great oblong saloon, brilliantly lighted by
crystal gaseliers, decorated by lofty mirrors, surrounded by a
colonnade of elegant pillars and overlooked by a balustraded
orchestra occupied by the fine band of the Garde Municipale. The
centre of this saloon, the floor of which was carefully waxed, was
specially reserved for dancers; but a platform on four sides of it,
and without the lines of pillars, was occupied by promenaders, for
whom there were seats and lounges.
One end was closed by the proscenium and green curtain of the Théâtre
des Variétés.
The majority of the male dancers were in evening costume, though a
few wore fancy dresses, and there were spider-waisted Belgian
officers from the adjacent Caserne St. Georges, with loose gold
epaulets, dark blue tunics, and baggy light grey pantaloons.
Many of the ladies were in fancy costume--some a little _prononcé_,
being almost that of the Corps de Ballet, though their dresses were
often trimmed with rich, old, coffee-coloured Flemish lace; but the
majority wore dominoes of black satin or silk, and all had black
velvet masks and thin black lace veils, or head-dresses, like the
Spanish mantilla, so commonly worn by the women in some parts of
Belgium--a relic of the days of the Duke of Alva--the 'Castigator de
los Flamencos.'
Many were hovering about in corners, or near certain pillars,
evidently waiting to keep appointments made elsewhere with those who
would recognise them--though masked to the upper lip--by a particular
flower worn in the breast, by the rosettes on their white kid boots,
a little patch on the chin, or so forth; and while the round
dances--waltzes, polkas, and mazurka--were in progress, Alison, to
whom the scene was entirely new, watched the lovers--for such she
supposed they must be, and no doubt many were--and, with an interest
in which her own heart shared, saw many a glad meeting, a smile, a
pressure of the hand interchanged; and then by tacit consent they
whirled into the gay and fast-increasing throng, while overhead the
music of Straus or Chopin came pealing from the lofty orchestra.
Alison felt her little feet beating time to the music, the
'Soldatenlieder' of Herr Gung'l, 'Je t'aime' of Waldteufel, and so
forth. How she longed, sealskin jacket and all, to join in the then
delicious waltzes! She was very young, and life would indeed be
wretched were it a blank at her years. The whole scene was a novel
and brilliant one; most strange to her eyes, and, if her situation
was an anxious one in Antwerp, it was not without its sad romance;
but for a time, as she looked around her, she forgot even that, or
was only recalled to it when Lord Cadbury addressed her.
And, meanwhile, the parvenu peer, pleased with the delicate beauty of
his companion, in whose pale cheeks a little rose-leaf tint now came,
with a sparkle in her usually quiet eyes, felt very vain of the
handsome girl who leant on his arm, and attracted the admiration of
many a passing and many a lingering man, who hovered near to admire
her.
Among these were two Englishmen, Sir Jasper Dehorsey (a sporting
baronet) and his friend, Mr. Tom Hawksleigh, also well-known, and not
very reputably, on various racecourses. They seemed to know no one
there, and were mere spectators, though doubtless amid that vast
throng they might have introduced themselves to some of the fair
dominoes without being severely repulsed.
Both were in full evening-dress, with loose, light dust coat worn
open, and crush hat under the arm; both were gentlemanly in bearing
and appearance, and their faces would have been good but for the
sinister, rakish, and _blasé_ expression of their eyes, and the
sensual and sneering curve of their lips. Sir Jasper, the taller of
the two by half a head, stuck his glass in his right eye, and said,
'Tom, look at that girl with the blue velvet hat; she is
English--I'll swear she is.'
'And a regular beauty, by Jove!'
'Doocid curious place for her to be, this. She is all right, I
suppose; what do you think?'
'I think it doubtful--hails from the latitude of Regent Street, I
should say,' replied the other, who thought evil of everyone and
everything.
'Who is that _moyen-âge_ individual with the white horse-shoe shaped
moustache and coarse ears, who seems to regard her with such a
proprietary air?'
'By Jove, it is old Cadbury!' exclaimed Mr. Hawksleigh.
'Cadbury--it is!' added the baronet; 'the little party can't be
particular to a shade if she is with _him_. She'll not set much
store on the whole duty of woman.'
'What is that?' asked Hawksleigh.
'Why, to get married--to get well married, if possible, but anyhow,
to get married on any terms.'
'He is a lord; but a silk purse can't be made out of a sow's ear.'
'I am too poor a devil just now to sneer at his money or position,
or, by Jove, I would do so at both. His father was "something" in
the city, whatever that means. Let us take the girl from him.'
'All right--I am your man,' exclaimed Hawksleigh.
'He doesn't seem to have even an old woman to play propriety or act
chaperon.'
'When did he ever study Mrs. Grundy? But to see such a girl as this
with him reminds me of Beauty and the Beast.'
'Her wisdom is no doubt in her dressing-case, and her modesty--well,
ah--in her pocket, I suppose. Well, here goes----'
'Stop, don't be too hasty. Ah! the old rip, he doesn't care about
acting lotus-eater at Cadbury Court, and so has come abroad with
"somebody's luggage." _Who_ can the little girl be?'
'Not much, when she is with him, as I said before,' responded the
_blasé_ baronet. 'We'll soon find out. Like the conspirators in a
burlesque, who turn up the collars of their coats, we must say, "Let
us dissemble!"'
What their precise plans were they perhaps scarcely knew, but
half-past ten was announced as the time when, as the programme had
it, the curtain was to rise on the _Rideau de Séparation de la Scène,
et commencement de la Kermesse_, when the stage appeared with a
landscape and busy groups in peasant costume, showing the whole
business of a Flemish fair; the dancing ceased, and an immediate rush
towards the proscenium took place from all parts of the saloon, the
refreshment-rooms, and adjacent passages.
The Belgians are not famous for their politeness, and many of those
present on this occasion were of the bourgeois class; thus when the
curtain rose there was instantly a rough, unceremonious, and furious
crowding towards the proscenium, and in the crush the hand of Alison
was torn from the arm of Cadbury, and they were hopelessly separated
by a crowd of more than a thousand persons, tightly wedged together.
So far were they apart that he totally failed to see anything of her
or where she was, and nearly an hour elapsed before the follies of
the Kermesse were over, and a resumption of the dancing dispersed the
crowd about the greater space of the saloon. Immediately on this
taking place, Cadbury began a search on every hand, amid all the
groups and in all the adjacent rooms and corridors--even between the
wings of the now open stage--for Alison, but she was nowhere to be
seen.
He questioned the waiters, the door-keeper, and other officials, but
none had seen any lady, who answered to the description given, leave
the hall.
Midnight was past now, and as the _bal masqué_ would last till four
in the morning hundreds of more ticket-holders came crowding in, and
Cadbury became at last convinced--and with no small alarm--that
Alison must have quitted the place, and missing him, or indifferent
as to what he might think, had got a voiture and driven home to their
hotel.
When he quitted the theatre and got a similar vehicle snow was
falling heavily, and when he reached the Hôtel St. Antoine great was
his alarm and dismay to find from the _concierge_ and waiters that
she had not returned!
Not returned--snow falling and the cathedral bell tolling one in the
morning.
Her room was searched; she was evidently not there--not with her
father or in any part of the house. No doubt remained of that.
With all his selfishness, Cadbury was dismayed and enraged. Where
was she--with whom?
The snow was still falling, and the storm showed no sign of
abatement. The vast space of the Place Verte was one sheet of white,
across which the lights from the hotel windows and the street lamps
cast long lines of radiance, and high in the tall spire jangled the
merry carillons.
'Out in a night like this--in a foreign city, more than half the
inhabitants of which speak nothing but Flemish, where can she be?' he
thought. 'Why does she not make an effort to get back to the hotel?'
He drove back to the Théâtre des Variétés, where the music and the
dancing were still in full progress, to repeat his inquiries in vain;
when morning dawned the snow had ceased, but there was no appearance
of Alison.
'This will kill her father!' was now Cadbury's thought.
Had an accident befallen her? With earliest dawn he had messengers
despatched to all the hospitals and gendarme stations, but in vain.
No accident had happened, nor had anyone answering to the description
of Alison been seen.
Her absence could no longer be concealed from her horrified father,
who at once concluded that she must have eloped with Goring, of whose
predicament and whereabouts Cadbury had kept him ignorant, so he was
not ill-pleased to let him think so.
Rage at the adventurer, as he deemed Goring, acted like a spur on Sir
Ranald. He left his sick couch and seemed to make a struggle to get
well that he might join in the search and trace _them_ out.
Cadbury had not been without daring ideas of luring Alison away from
Sir Ranald and compromising her; but now she was he knew not where,
and in the hands of a man perhaps more unscrupulous than himself!
His memory was now full of the hundred terrible stories he had read
in the public prints of English girls entrapped to Belgium and never
heard of again, and, though his mind was always prone to evil, he was
exasperated as well as dismayed when days passed and no tidings were
heard of the lost one.
It was winter in earnest now. The banks of the Scheldt were fringed
by masses of ice, and ice covered all the great bassins of Antwerp,
while stainless snow shrouded all the surrounding country, and the
stone Madonnas at the street corners had a chill and deadly aspect,
for it was weather to make hands blue and noses red, as the frost was
keen and strong.