IN WHICH COLONEL ALTAMONT APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS.
[Illustration]
On the day appointed, Major Pendennis, who had formed no better
engagement, and Arthur, who desired none, arrived together to dine with
Sir Francis Clavering. The only tenants of the drawing-room when Pen
and his uncle reached it, were Sir Francis and his wife, and our friend
Captain Strong, whom Arthur was very glad to see, though the major
looked very sulkily at Strong, being by no means well pleased to sit
down to dinner with Clavering's d----d house-steward, as he irreverently
called Strong. But Mr. Welbore Welbore, Clavering's country neighbor and
brother member of Parliament, speedily arriving, Pendennis the elder was
somewhat appeased, for Welbore, though perfectly dull, and taking no
more part in the conversation at dinner than the footman behind his
chair, was a respectable country gentleman of ancient family and seven
thousand a year; and the major felt always at ease in such society. To
these were added other persons of note: the Dowager Lady Rockminster,
who had her reasons for being well with the Clavering family, and the
Lady Agnes Foker, with her son Mr. Harry, our old acquaintance. Mr.
Pynsent could not come, his parliamentary duties keeping him at the
House, duties which sate upon the two other senators very lightly. Miss
Blanche Amory was the last of the company who made her appearance. She
was dressed in a killing white silk dress, which displayed her pearly
shoulders to the utmost advantage. Foker whispered to Pen, who regarded
her with eyes of evident admiration, that he considered her "a stunner."
She chose to be very gracious to Arthur upon this day, and held out her
hand most cordially, and talked about dear Fairoaks, and asked for
dear Laura and his mother, and said she was longing to go back to the
country, and in fact, was entirely simple, affectionate, and artless.
Harry Foker thought he had never seen any body so amiable and
delightful. Not accustomed much to the society of ladies, and ordinarily
being dumb in their presence, he found that he could speak before Miss
Amory, and became uncommonly lively and talkative, even before the
dinner was announced and the party descended to the lower rooms. He
would have longed to give his arm to the fair Blanche, and conduct her
down the broad carpeted stair; but she fell to the lot of Pen upon this
occasion, Mr. Foker being appointed to escort Mrs. Welbore Welbore, in
consequence of his superior rank as an earl's grandson.
But though he was separated from the object of his desire during the
passage down stairs, the delighted Foker found himself by Miss Amory's
side at the dinner-table, and flattered himself that he had maneuvered
very well in securing that happy place. It may be that the move was not
his, but that it was made by another person. Blanche had thus the two
young men, one on each side of her, and each tried to render himself
gallant and agreeable.
Foker's mamma, from her place, surveying her darling boy, was surprised
at his vivacity. Harry talked constantly to his fair neighbor about the
topics of the day.
"Seen Taglioni in the Sylphide, Miss Amory? Bring me that souprame of
Volile again, if you please (this was addressed to the attendant near
him), very good: can't think where the souprames come from; what becomes
of the legs of the fowls, I wonder? She's clipping in the Sylphide,
ain't she?" and he began very kindly to hum the pretty air which
pervades that prettiest of all ballets, now faded into the past with
that most beautiful and gracious of all dancers? Will the young folks
ever see any thing so charming, any thing so classic, any thing like
Taglioni?
"Miss Amory is a Sylph herself," said Mr. Pen.
"What a delightful tenor voice you have, Mr. Foker," said the young
lady. "I am sure you have been well taught. I sing a little myself;
I should like to sing with you."
Pen remembered that words very similar had been addressed to himself by
the young lady, and that she had liked to sing with him in former days.
And sneering within himself, he wondered with how many other gentlemen
she had sung duets since his time? But he did not think fit to put this
awkward question aloud; and only said, with the very tenderest air which
he could assume, "I should like to hear you sing again, Miss Blanche.
I never heard a voice I liked so well as yours, I think."
"I thought you liked Laura's," said Miss Blanche.
"Laura's is a contralto: and that voice is very often out, you know,"
Pen said, bitterly. "I have heard a great deal of music in London," he
continued. "I'm tired of those professional people--they sing too loud,
or I have grown too old or too blase. One grows old very soon in London,
Miss Amory. And like all old fellows, I only care for the songs I heard
in my youth."
"I like English music best. I don't care for foreign songs much. Get me
some saddle of mutton," said Mr. Foker.
"I adore English ballads, of all things," said Miss Amory.
"Sing me one of the old songs after dinner, will you?" said Pen, with an
imploring voice.
"Shall I sing you an English song after dinner?" asked the Sylphide,
turning to Mr. Foker. "I will, if you will promise to come up soon," and
she gave him a perfect broadside of her eyes.
"_I'll_ come up after dinner, fast enough," he said, simply. "I don't
care about much wine afterward--I take my whack at dinner--I mean my
share, you know; and when I have had as much as I want I toddle up to
tea. I'm a domestic character, Miss Amory--my habits are simple--and
when I'm pleased I'm generally in a good humor, ain't I, Pen?--that
jelly, if you please--not that one, the other with the cherries inside.
How the doose _do_ they get those cherries inside the jellies?" In this
way the artless youth prattled on; and Miss Amory listened to him with
inexhaustible good humor. When the ladies took their departure for the
upper regions, Blanche made the two young men promise faithfully to quit
the table soon, and departed with kind glances to each. She dropped her
gloves on Foker's side of the table, and her handkerchief on Pen's. Each
had some little attention paid to him: her politeness to Mr. Foker was
perhaps a little more encouraging than her kindness to Arthur; but the
benevolent little creature did her best to make both the gentlemen
happy. Foker caught her last glance as she rushed out of the door; that
bright look passed over Mr. Strong's broad white waistcoat, and shot
straight at Harry Foker's. The door closed on the charmer: he sate down
with a sigh, and swallowed a bumper of claret.
* * * * *
As the dinner at which Pen and his uncle took their places was not one
of our grand parties, it had been served at a considerably earlier hour
than those ceremonial banquets of the London season, which custom has
ordained shall scarcely take place before nine o'clock; and, the company
being small, and Miss Blanche anxious to betake herself to her piano in
the drawing-room, giving constant hints to her mother to retreat--Lady
Clavering made that signal very speedily, so that it was quite
daylight yet when the ladies reached the upper apartments, from the
flower-embroidered balconies of which they could command a view of the
two parks, of the poor couples and children still sauntering in the one,
and of the equipages of ladies and the horses of dandies passing through
the arch of the other. The sun, in a word, had not set behind the elms
of Kensington Gardens, and was still gilding the statue erected by the
ladies of England in honor of his grace the Duke of Wellington, when
Lady Clavering and her female friends left the gentlemen drinking wine.
The windows of the dining-room were opened to let in the fresh air,
and afforded to the passers-by in the street a pleasant, or, perhaps,
tantalizing view of six gentlemen in white waistcoats, with a quantity
of decanters and a variety of fruits before them--little boys, as they
passed and jumped up at the area-railings, and took a peep, said to one
another, "Mi hi, Jim, shouldn't you like to be there, and have a cut of
that there pine-apple?"--the horses and carriages of the nobility and
gentry passed by, conveying them to Belgravian toilets: the policeman,
with clamping feet, patrolled up and down before the mansion: the shades
of evening began to fall: the gas-man came and lighted the lamps before
Sir Francis's door: the butler entered the dining-room, and illuminated
the antique Gothic chandelier over the antique carved oak dining-table:
so that from outside the house you looked inward upon a night scene of
feasting and wax candles; and from within you beheld a vision of a calm
summer evening, and the wall of St. James's Park, and the sky above, in
which a star or two was just beginning to twinkle.
Jeames, with folded legs, leaning against the door-pillar of his
master's abode, looked forth musingly upon the latter tranquil sight;
while a spectator, clinging to the railings, examined the former scene.
Policeman X passing, gave his attention to neither, but fixed it upon
the individual holding by the railings, and gazing into Sir Francis
Clavering's dining-room, where Strong was laughing and talking away,
making the conversation for the party.
The man at the railings was very gorgeously attired with chains,
jewelry, and waistcoats, which the illumination from the house lighted
up to great advantage; his boots were shiny; he had brass buttons to his
coat, and large white wristbands over his knuckles; and indeed looked so
grand, that X imagined he beheld a member of parliament, or a person
of consideration before him. Whatever his rank, however, the M.P.,
or person of consideration, was considerably excited by wine; for he
lurched and reeled somewhat in his gait, and his hat was cocked over
his wild and blood-shot eyes in a manner which no sober hat ever could
assume. His copious black hair was evidently surreptitious, and his
whiskers of the Tyrian purple.
As Strong's laughter, following after one of his own _gros mots_, came
ringing out of window, this gentleman without laughed and sniggered
in the queerest way likewise, and he slapped his thigh, and winked at
Jeames pensive in the portico, as much as to say, "Plush, my boy, isn't
that a good story?"
Jeames's attention had been gradually drawn from the moon in the
heavens to this sublunary scene; and he was puzzled and alarmed by
the appearance of the man in shiny boots. "A holtercation," he remarked
afterward in the servants'-hall--a "holtercation with a feller in the
streets is never no good; and indeed he was not hired for any such
purpose." So, having surveyed the man for some time, who went on
laughing, reeling, nodding his head with tipsy knowingness, Jeames
looked out of the portico, and softly called "Pleaceman," and beckoned
to that officer.
X marched up resolute, with one Berlin glove stuck in his belt-side,
and Jeames simply pointed with his index finger to the individual
who was laughing against the railings. Not one single word more than
"Pleaceman," did he say, but stood there in the calm summer evening,
pointing calmly: a grand sight.
X advanced to the individual and said, "Now, sir, will you have the
kindness to move hon?"
The individual, who was in perfect good humor, did not appear to hear
one word which Policeman X uttered, but nodded and waggled his grinning
head at Strong, until his hat almost fell from his head over the area
railings.
"Now, sir, move on, do you hear?" cries X, in a much more peremptory
tone, and he touched the stranger gently with one of the fingers
inclosed in the gauntlets of the Berlin woof.
He of the many rings instantly started, or rather staggered back, into
what is called an attitude of self-defense, and in that position began
the operation which is entitled "squaring" at Policeman X, and showed
himself brave and warlike, if unsteady. "Hullo! keep your hands off a
gentleman," he said, with an oath which need not be repeated.
"Move on out of this," said X, "and don't be a blocking up the pavement,
staring into gentlemen's dining-rooms."
"Not stare--ho, ho!--not stare--that is a good one," replied the other,
with a satiric laugh and sneer. "Who's to prevent me from staring,
looking at my friends, if I like? not you, old highlows."
"Friends! I dessay. Move on," answered X.
"If you touch me, I'll pitch into you, I will," roared the other. "I
tell you I know 'em all--that's Sir Francis Clavering, Baronet, M.P.--I
know him, and he knows me--and that's Strong, and that's the young chap
that made the row at the ball. I say, Strong, Strong!"
"It's that d---- Altamont," cried Sir Francis within, with a start and a
guilty look; and Strong also, with a look of annoyance, got up from the
table, and ran out to the intruder.
A gentleman in a white waistcoat, running out from a dining-room
bare-headed, a policeman, and an individual decently attired, engaged in
almost fistycuffs on the pavement, were enough to make a crowd, even in
that quiet neighborhood, at half-past eight o'clock in the evening, and
a small mob began to assemble before Sir Francis Clavering's door. "For
God's sake, come in," Strong said, seizing his acquaintance's arm. "Send
for a cab, James, if you please," he added, in an under voice to that
domestic; and carrying the excited gentleman out of the street, the outer
door was closed upon him, and the small crowd began to move away.
Mr. Strong had intended to convey the stranger into Sir Francis's
private sitting-room, where the hats of the male guests were awaiting
them, and having there soothed his friend by bland conversation, to have
carried him off as soon as the cab arrived; but the new comer was in a
great state of wrath at the indignity which had been put upon him, and
when Strong would have led him into the second door, said, in a tipsy
voice, "_That_ ain't the door: that's the dining-room door, where the
drink's going on: and I'll go and have some, by Jove; I'll go and have
some." At this audacity the butler stood aghast in the hall, and placed
himself before the door: but it opened behind him, and the master of the
house made his appearance, with anxious looks.
"I _will_ have some--by ---- I will," the intruder was roaring out, as
Sir Francis came forward. "Hullo! Clavering, I say I'm come to have some
wine with you; hay! old boy--hay! old corkscrew? Get us a bottle of the
yellow seal, you old thief: the very best--a hundred rupees a dozen, and
no mistake."
The host reflected a moment over his company. There is only Welbore,
Pendennis, and those two lads, he thought; and with a forced laugh and a
piteous look, he said, "Well, Altamont, come in. I am very glad to see
you, I'm sure."
Colonel Altamont, for the intelligent reader has doubtless long ere this
discovered in the stranger His Excellency the Embassador of the Nawaub
of Lucknow, reeled into the dining-room, with a triumphant look toward
Jeames, the footman, which seemed to say, "There, sir, what do you think
of that? _Now_, am I a gentleman or no?" and sank down into the first
vacant chair. Sir Francis Clavering timidly stammered out the colonel's
name to his guest Mr. Welbore Welbore, and his excellency began drinking
wine forthwith, and gazing round upon the company, now with the most
wonderful frowns, and anon with the blandest smiles, and hiccupped
remarks encomiastic of the drink which he was imbibing.
"Very singular man. Has resided long in a native court in India,"
Strong said, with great gravity, the chevalier's presence of mind never
deserting him; "in those Indian courts they get very singular habits."
"Very," said Major Pendennis, dryly, and wondering what in goodness'
name was the company into which he had got.
Mr. Foker was pleased with the new comer. "It's the man who would sing
the Malay song at the Back-Kitchen," he whispered to Pen. "Try this
pine, sir," he then said to Colonel Altamont; "it's uncommonly fine."
"Pines! I've seen 'em feed pigs on pines," said the colonel.
"All the Nawaub of Lucknow's pigs are fed on pines," Strong whispered to
Major Pendennis.
"O, of course," the major answered. Sir Francis Clavering was, in the
mean while, endeavoring to make an excuse to his brother guest, for the
new comer's condition, and muttered something regarding Altamont, that
he was an extraordinary character, very eccentric, very--had Indian
habits--didn't understand the rules of English society; to which old
Welbore, a shrewd old gentleman, who drank his wine with great
regularity, said, "that seemed pretty clear."
Then the colonel seeing Pen's honest face, regarded it for a while with
as much steadiness as became his condition, and said, "I know you, too,
young fellow. I remember you. Baymouth ball, by Jingo. Wanted to fight
the Frenchman. _I_ remember you;" and he laughed, and he squared with
his fists, and seemed hugely amused in the drunken depths of his mind,
as these recollections passed, or, rather, reeled across it.
"Mr. Pendennis, you remember Colonel Altamont, at Baymouth?" Strong
said; upon which Pen, bowing rather stiffly, said, "he had the pleasure
of remembering that circumstance perfectly."
"_What's_ his name?" cried the colonel. Strong named Mr. Pendennis
again.
"Pendennis!--Pendennis be hanged!" Altamont roared out, to the surprise
of every one, and thumping with his fist on the table.
"My name is also Pendennis, sir," said the major, whose dignity was
exceedingly mortified by the evening's events--that he, Major Pendennis,
should have been asked to such a party, and that a drunken man should
have been introduced to it. "My name is Pendennis, and I will be obliged
to you not to curse it too loudly."
The tipsy man turned round to look at him, and as he looked, it appeared
as if Colonel Altamont suddenly grew sober. He put his hand across his
forehead, and in doing so, displaced somewhat the black wig which he
wore; and his eyes stared fiercely at the major, who, in his turn, like
a resolute old warrior as he was, looked at his opponent very keenly and
steadily. At the end of the mutual inspection, Altamont began to button
up his brass-buttoned coat, and rising up from his chair, suddenly,
and to the company's astonishment, reeled toward the door, and issued
from it, followed by Strong: all that the latter heard him utter was,
"Captain Beak! Captain Beak, by jingo!"
There had not passed above a quarter of an hour from his strange
appearance to his equally sudden departure. The two young men and
the baronet's other guest wondered at the scene, and could find no
explanation for it. Clavering seemed exceeding pale and agitated, and
turned with looks of almost terror toward Major Pendennis. The latter
had been eying his host keenly for a moment or two. "Do you know him?"
asked Sir Francis of the major.
"I am sure I have seen the fellow," the major replied, looking as if
he, too, was puzzled. "Yes, I have it. He was a deserter from the Horse
Artillery who got into the Nawaub's service. I remember his face quite
well."
"Oh!" said Clavering, with a sigh which indicated immense relief of
mind, and the major looked at him with a twinkle of his sharp old eyes.
The cab which Strong had desired to be called, drove away with the
chevalier and Colonel Altamont; coffee was brought to the remaining
gentlemen, and they went up-stairs to the ladies in the drawing-room,
Foker declaring confidentially to Pen that "this was the rummest go he
ever saw," which decision Pen said, laughing, "showed great discrimination
on Mr. Foker's part."
Then, according to her promise, Miss Amory made music for the young men.
Foker was enraptured with her performance, and kindly joined in the
airs which she sang, when he happened to be acquainted with them. Pen
affected to talk aside with others of the party, but Blanche brought him
quickly to the piano, by singing some of his own words, those which we
have given in a previous number, indeed, and which the Sylphide had
herself, she said, set to music. I don't know whether the air was hers,
or how much of it was arranged for her by Signor Twankidillo, from whom
she took lessons; but good or bad, original or otherwise, it delighted
Mr. Pen, who remained by her side, and turned the leaves now for her
most assiduously. "Gad! how I wish I could write verses like you, Pen,"
Foker sighed afterward to his companion. "If I could do 'em, wouldn't I,
that's all? But I never was a dab at writing, you see, and I'm sorry I
was so idle when I was at school."
No mention was made before the ladies of the curious little scene which
had been transacted below stairs; although Pen was just on the point of
describing it to Miss Amory, when that young lady inquired for Captain
Strong, who she wished should join her in a duet. But chancing to look
up toward Sir Francis Clavering, Arthur saw a peculiar expression of
alarm in the baronet's ordinarily vacuous face, and discreetly held
his tongue. It was rather a dull evening. Welbore went to sleep, as he
always did at music and after dinner: nor did Major Pendennis entertain
the ladies with copious anecdotes and endless little scandalous stories,
as his wont was, but sat silent for the most part, and appeared to be
listening to the music, and watching the fair young performer.
The hour of departure having arrived, the major rose, regretting that so
delightful an evening should have passed away so quickly, and addressed
a particularly fine compliment to Miss Amory upon her splendid talents
as a singer. "Your daughter, Lady Clavering," he said to that lady,
"is a perfect nightingale--a perfect nightingale, begad! I have scarcely
ever heard any thing equal to her, and her pronunciation of every
language--begad! of every language--seems to me to be perfect; and the
best houses in London must open before a young lady who has such
talents, and, allow an old fellow to say, Miss Amory, such a face."
Blanche was as much astonished by these compliments as Pen was to whom
his uncle, a little time since, had been speaking in very disparaging
terms of the Sylph. The major and the two young men walked home
together, after Mr. Foker had placed his mother in her carriage, and
procured a light for an enormous cigar.
The young gentleman's company or his tobacco did not appear to be
agreeable to Major Pendennis, who eyed him askance several times, and
with a look which plainly indicated that he wished Mr. Foker would
take his leave; but Foker hung on resolutely to the uncle and nephew,
even until they came to the former's door in Bury-street, where the
major wished the lads good-night.
"And I say, Pen," he said, in a confidential whisper, calling his nephew
back, "mind you make a point of calling in Grosvenor-place to-morrow.
They've been uncommonly civil: mons'ously civil and kind."
Pen promised and wondered, and the major's door having been closed upon
him by Morgan, Foker took Pen's arm, and walked with him for some time
silently, puffing his cigar. At last, when they had reached Charing
Cross on Arthur's way home to the Temple, Harry Foker relieved himself,
and broke out with that eulogium upon poetry, and those regrets
regarding a misspent youth which have just been mentioned. And all the
way along the Strand, and up to the door of Pen's very staircase, in
Lamb-court, Temple, young Harry Foker did not cease to speak about
singing and Blanche Amory.
END OF VOL. 1.