LADY HESTER'S dinner of that day was a “grand one,” that is to say, it
was one of those great displays which, from time to time, are offered up
as sacrifices to the opinion of the world. Few of her own peculiar set
were present. Some she omitted herself; others had begged off of their
own accord. Midchekoff, however, was there; for, however accustomed to
the tone and habits of a life of mere dissipation, he possessed every
requirement for mixing with general society. It was true he was not fond
of meeting “Royal Highnesses,” before whom his own equivocal rank
sank into insignificance; nor did he love “Cardinals,” whose haughty
pretensions always over-topped every other nobility. To oblige Lady
Hester, however, he did come, and condescended, for “the nonce,” to
assume his most amiable of moods. The Marchesa Guardoni, an old coquette
of the days of the French Empire, but now a rigid devotee, and a most
exclusive moralist; a few elderly diplomates, of a quiet and cat-like
smoothness of manner, with certain notabilities of the Court, made up
the party. There were no English whatever; Jekyl, who made out the
list, well knowing that Florence offered none of a rank sufficiently
distinguished, except Norwood, whose temporary absence from the city
was rather a boon than the reverse; for the noble Viscount, when not
“slang,” was usually silent, and, by long intercourse with the Turf and
its followers, had ceased to feel any interest in topics which could not
end in a wager.
The entertainment was very splendid. Nothing was wanting which luxury or
taste could contribute. The wines were delicious; the cookery perfect.
The guests were courteous and pleasing; but all was of the quietest,
none of the witty sallies, the piquant anecdotes, the brilliant
repartees, which usually pattered like hail around that board.
Still less were heard those little histories of private life where
delinquencies furnish all the interest. The royal guest imposed a
reserve which the presence of the Cardinal deepened. The conversation,
like the cuisine, was flavored for fine palates; both were light,
suggestive, and of easy digestion. Events were discussed rather than the
actors in them. All was ease and simplicity; but it was a stately kind
of simplicity, which served to chill those that were unaccustomed to it.
So Kate Dalton felt it; and however sad the confession, we must own that
she greatly preferred the free and easy tone of Lady Hester's midnight
receptions to the colder solemnity of these distinguished guests.
Even to the Cardinal's whist-table, everything wore a look of state and
solemnity. The players laid down their cards with a measured gravity,
and scored their honors with the air of men discharging a high and
important function. As for the Archduke, he sat upon a sofa beside
Lady Hester, suffering himself to be amused by the resources of her
small-talk, bowing blandly at times, occasionally condescending to a
smile, but rarely uttering even a monosyllable. Even that little social
warmth that was kindled by the dinner-table seemed to have been chilled
by the drawing-room, where the conversation was maintained in a low,
soft tone, that never rose above a murmur. It may be, perhaps, some
sort of consolation to little folk to think that Princes are generally
sad-looking. The impassable barrier of reserve around them, if it
protect from all the rubs and frictions of life, equally excludes from
much of its genial enjoyment; and all those little pleasantries which
grow out of intimacy are denied those who have no equals.
It was in some such meditation as this Kate Dalton sat, roused
occasionally to bestow a smile or a passing word of acknowledgment in
return for some of those little morsels of compliment and flattery which
old courtiers pay as their rightful tribute to a young and handsome
woman. She was sufficiently accustomed to this kind of homage to accept
it without losing, even for an instant, any train of thought her mind
was pursuing. Nor did the entrance of any new guest, a number of whom
had been invited for the evening, distract her from her half revery.
The salons, without being crowded, now showed a numerous company, all of
whom exhibited in their demeanor that respectful reserve the presence of
royalty ever inspires. It seemed, indeed, as though all the conversation
that went forward was like a mere “aside” to that more important
dialogue which was maintained beside the Prince.
A slow but measured tide of persons passed before him, bowing with
respectful deference as they went. With some he deigned to speak a few
words, others had a smile or a little nod of recognition, and some
again one of those cold and vacant stares with which great people are
occasionally wont to regard little ones. His Royal Highness was not one
of those accomplished princes whose pride it is to know the name, the
family, the pursuits, and predilections of each new presentee. On the
contrary, he was absent, and forgetful to a degree scarcely credible;
his want of memory betraying him into innumerable mistakes, from which,
even had he known, no adroitness of his own could have extricated
him. On this evening he had not been peculiarly fortunate; he had
complimented a minister who had just received his recall in disgrace; he
had felicitated a young lady on her approaching marriage, which had
been broken off; while the burden of his talk to Lady Hester was in
disparagement of those foreigners who brought a scandal upon his
court by habits and manners which would not be tolerated in their own
countries. Divorce, or even separation, met his heavy reprobation;
and while his code of morality, on the whole, exhibited very merciful
dispositions, he bestowed unmitigated severity upon all that could shock
the world's opinion.
To this Lady Hester had to listen as best she might, a task not the
less trying and difficult from the ill-suppressed looks of malice and
enjoyment she saw on every side. From all these causes put together,
the occasion, however flattering to her vanity, was far from being
pleasurable to her feelings, and she longed for it to be over. The
Prince looked wearied enough, but somehow there is nothing like royalty
for endurance; their whole lives would seem to teach the lesson, and
so he sat on, saying a stray word, bowing with half-closed lids, and
looking as though very little more would set him fast asleep.
It was the very culminating point of the whole evening's austerity; one
of those little pauses which now and then occur had succeeded to the
murmur of conversation. The whist party had been broken up, and the
Cardinal was slowly advancing up the room, the company, even to the
ladies, rising respectfully as he passed, when the folding-doors were
thrown wide, and a servant announced Mr. Scroope Purvis.
If the name was unknown to the assembled guests, there was one there
at least who heard it with a sensation of actual terror, and poor Kate
Dalton sank back into her chair with a kind of instinctive effort at
concealment. By this time the door had closed behind him, leaving Mr.
Purvis standing with an expression of no small bewilderment at the
gorgeous assembly into which he had intruded.
Lady Hester's quick ear had caught the name, even from the furthest end
of the room; but while she attributed it to the mispronunciations of
which foreign servants are so liberal, looked out with some curiosity
for him who owned it.
Nor had she to look long, for, his first moment of surprise over, Purvis
put up his double eye-glass and commenced a tour of the rooms, in that
peculiarly scrutinizing way for which he was distinguished. The fact
that all the faces were unknown to him seemed to impart additional
courage to his investigations, for he stared about with as little
concern as he might have done in a theatre.
Most men in his situation would have been egoist enough to have thought
only of themselves and the awkwardness of their own position. Purvis,
on the contrary, had an eye for everything; from the chandeliers on the
walls to the crosses on the dress-coats, from the decorations of the
salons to the diamonds, he missed nothing; and with such impartial
fairness did he bestow his glances, that the Cardinal's cheeks grew red
as his own stockings as Scroope surveyed him. 'At last he reached the
end of the great drawing-room, and found himself standing in front of
the canopied seat where the Archduke sat with Lady Hester. Not heeding,
if he even remarked, the little circle which etiquette had drawn in
front of the Prince, Purvis advanced within the charmed precincts and
stared steadily at the Duke.
[Illustration: 420]
“I perceive that one of your friends is most anxious to pay his respects
to you, Lady Hester,” said the Prince, with a very peculiar smile.
“I beg to assure you, sir, that the gentleman is unknown to me; his
presence here is an honor for which I am totally unprepared.”
“My name is Purvis, madam, Sc-Sc-Scroope Purvis. Miss Dalton knows me;
and my sister is Mrs. Ricketts.”
“You will find Miss Dalton yonder, sir,” said Lady Hester, all whose
efforts were barely sufficient to restrain her temper.
“I see her!” cried Purvis, putting his glass up; “but she 's trying to
escape me. She 's got a man with a re-re-red beard before her, but it
won't do, I'm too sh-sh-sharp for that.”
The Archduke laughed, and heartily, too, at this sally; and Purvis,
emboldened by the complaisance, edged more closely towards him to point
out the lady in question. “She has a droll kind of sc-sc-scarf in her
hair. There! don't you see her now? Have you ever seen the pictures in
the Pitti Palace?”
The question was a little startling, as the personage to whom it was
addressed had his residence there. The Archduke, however, merely bowed
in acquiescence, and Purvis went on: “My sister Zoe copied one and I
like it better than the Ti-Tit-Titian itself. We smoked it, too, and
made it look so brown, you'd never guess it to be mo-mo-mo-modern.”
To judge from the bewildered look of the Duke, the whole of this speech
was pure Chaldee to him; and when he turned to Lady Hester for an
explanation, he discovered that she had left her seat. Whether mistaking
the motion as an invitation to be seated, or merely acting by his own
impulses, Scroope crossed over and sat down on the sofa with a degree of
self-satisfaction that lighted up all his features.
“You 're not one of the fa-family, are you?” asked he.
“I have not that honor,” said the Prince, with a bow.
“I thought not. I suspected that there was a tw-tw-twang in your English
that looked foreign, but I know your face quite well.”
The Duke bowed again.
“Pretty rooms, these,” said Purvis, with his glass to his eye; “what
a d-d-deal of money they must have cost! They 're going it fast, these
Onslows.”
“Indeed!” said the Prince, who only half understood the remark.
“I know it,” said Scroope, with a confidential wink. “Their butcher
se-se-serves us, and he won't give anything till they have sent their
orders; and as for wine, they drink Bordeaux in the servants' hall.
I don't know what you have, but a d-d-deuced sight better than ever I
get.”
“Good wine, however, can be had here, I hope,” said the Duke, blandly.
“Yes, if you sm-sm-smuggle it,” said Scroope, with a knowing cackle;
while, to add poignancy to the remark, he nudged the Prince with his
elbow. “That's the only way to have it. The st-stupid Government sees
nothing.”
“Is that the case, sir?” asked the Prince, with a degree of interest he
had not manifested before.
“To be sure it is. My sister Zoe never pays duty on anything; and if
you like your c-c-cigars cheap, just t-t-tell me, that 's all. The
G-G-Grand-Duke never got a sixpence of my money yet, and if I kn-know
myself, he never shall.”
“Do you bear him any grudge, sir, that you say this so emphatically?”
“No; not at all. They tell me that he's good-hearted, although somewhat
we-weak in the a-a-attic story,” and here Scroope tapped his forehead
significantly, “but that 's in the family. My sister Zoe could tell you
such st-stories about them you 'd die of laughing; and then there
's Jekyl takes them off so well! It's c-c-capital fun. He gives a
dia-dia-dialogue between the Grand-Duke and the Pope's Nuncio that's
better than a farce.”
How far Mr. Purvis might have been carried in his zeal to be agreeable
there is no saying, when Lady Hester came up, with Kate leaning on her
arm.
“This gentleman claims acquaintance with you, Miss Dalton,” said she,
haughtily.
“Oh, to be sure, she knows me; and I have a letter from her her
fa-father,” said Purvis, drawing forth a packet like a postman's.
“Miss Dalton would prefer being seated, sir,” said Lady Hester, while
she motioned towards another part of the room.
“Yes, yes, of course; we'll find out a snug co-corner somewhere for a
chat. Just take my arm, will you? Let us get away from all these great
'Dons,' with their stars and crosses.” And, without waiting for Kate's
reply, he drew her arm within his own, and set out in that little
shuffling trot which he always assumed when he fancied he had business
on hand.
The ridicule of being associated with such a companion would at any
other moment have overwhelmed Kate Dalton with shame; but now, whether
from the few words which Lady Hester had whispered in her ear, whether
the fact of his unauthorized appearance, or whether it were the dread of
some greater disgrace to follow, she actually felt a sense of relief in
the continuous flow of twaddle which he kept up as they passed down the
room.
“Who was that smiled as we passed?” asked he.
“Prince Midchekoff.”
“Oh, that was he, was it? You must introduce me.”
“Not now, pray, not now; at any other time,” cried she, in perfect
terror.
“Well, but don't forget it. Zoe would never forgive me if I told her
that I lost the op-op-opportunity; she wants to know him so very much.”
“Of course, at another time,” said Kate, hurrying him along with
increasing speed.
“Who's he?” asked Purvis, as a tall and stately personage bowed blandly
to Kate.
“The Austrian Minister.”
“Not the fellow that st-st-strangled the Emperor? Oh, I forgot; he was a
Russian, wasn't he? They got him down and ch-ch-choked him, ha, ha, ha!
There 's a man with a red moustache, so like the fellow who sells the
boubou-bouquets at the Casciui.”
“A Hungarian magnate,” whispered Kate.
“Is he, though? Then let's have another look at him. He has as many gold
chains about him as a shop on the Ponte Vecchio. Zoe would like him, he
's so odd.”
At last, but not without great efforts, Kate succeeded in reaching a
small chamber, where two others already were seated, and whose figures
were undistinguishable in the obscurity of a studiously shaded lamp.
“Isn't it strange, she never asked for Zoe?” said Purvis, as he took
his seat on a sofa; “not to inquire for a person sick under her own
r-r-roof?”
“Lady Hester is not acquainted with Mrs. Ricketts.”
“Well, but sh-sh-she ought to be. Zoe made a party for her, a d-d-d-iner
party, and had Hagg-Haggerstone and Foglass, and the rest of them. And
after all, you know, they are only b-bankers, these Onslows, and need
n't give themselves airs.”
“You have a letter for me, Mr. Purvis? Will you pardon my impatience--”
“Yes, to be sure. I 've a letter, and an enclosure in it, too; at least,
it feels crisp like a note, a bank-note; that 's the reason you 're
impatient. Perhaps the re-reremittance was long a-coming, eh?”
Kate made no reply to this speech, but her cheek grew scarlet as she
heard it.
Purvis, meanwhile, spread his packet of papers before him, and began his
search for Dalton's letter.
“No, that ain't it; that's from Foglass, all about Norwood, and his
N-N-Newmarket affair. That 's a letter from Lord Gullston's valet, with
such a droll ac-account of the whole family. Zoe recom-mended him; and
the poor fellow 's very grateful, for he writes about all that goes on
in the house. Lady G., it seems, has the temper of a f-f-fiend. Well,
don't be im-impatient; I'll find your father's letter in a minute. He
writes such a cr-cr-cramp old hand, one should detect it at once. I
ta-take it that he 's a bit of a character, the old gen-gentleman. I 'm
sure he is; but what have I done with his letter? Oh, here it is! here
it is! and 'with haste' written on the corner, too.”
Kate caught the letter impatiently, and, without any thought for Purvis
or the place, tore it open at once. In doing so, the enclosure fell to
the ground without her perceiving it; and, stranger still, it escaped
the attention of Purvis; but that worthy man, not exactly venturing
to read over her shoulder, had established himself directly in front,
where, with his double eye-glass, he scanned every change in her
features during the perusal.
“All well at home, I hope, eh? How she changes color,” muttered he to
himself. “Nobody ill; nobody dead, eh?” asked he, louder. “It must be
something serious, though; she 's trembling like ague. Let me give you
a chair, that is, if I can f-find one in this little den; they 've got
nothing but d-divans all round it.” And he hurried forth into the larger
salon in search of a seat.
It was not without considerable trouble to himself and inconvenience to
various others that he at last succeeded, and returned to the boudoir
with a massive arm-chair in his hands. But what was his dismay to find
that Miss Dalton had made her escape in the mean while? In vain did
he seek her through the salons, which now were rapidly thinning; the
distinguished guests having already departed.
A stray group lingered here and there, conversing in a low tone; and
around the fires were gathered little knots of ladies muffled and
cloaked, and only waiting for the carriages. It was like a stage, when
the performance was over. Scarcely deigning to notice the little man,
who, with palpable keenness of scrutiny, pursued his search in every
quarter, they gradually moved off, leaving Purvis alone to tread the
“banquet-hall deserted.” The servants, as they extinguished the
lights, passed and repassed him without remark; so that, defeated and
disappointed, he was obliged at last to retire, sorrowfully confessing
to his own heart how little success had attended his bold enterprise.
As he passed along the galleries and descended the stairs, he made
various little efforts to open a conversation with some one or other of
the servants; but these dignified officials responded to his questions
in the dryest and shortest manner; and it was only as he reached the
great gate of the palace that he chanced upon one courteous enough to
hear him to the end in his oft-repeated question of “Who was th-th-that
with the large st-st-star on his breast, and a wh-wh-white beard?”
The porter stared at the speaker, and said respectfully, “The signor
probably means the Archduke?”
“Not the Archduke Fr-Fr-Fr--”
“Yes, sir,” said the man; and closed the heavy door after him, leaving
Purvis in a state of astonishment, and as much shame as his nature
permitted him to feel. Neither upon himself nor his sensations have we
any intention to dwell; and leaving him to pursue his way homeward, we
beg to return once more within those walls from which he had just taken
his departure.
If Lady Hester's grand company had gone, the business of the evening
was by no means over; on the contrary, it was the hour of her night
receptions, and now the accustomed guests of those favored precincts
came dropping in from theatres, and operas, and late dinners. These men
of pleasure looked jaded and tired, as usual; and, except the little
tinkling sounds of Jekyl's small treble, no other voice sounded as they
walked along the corridors.
[Illustration: 426]
When they entered Lady Hester's boudoir, they found that lady recounting
to Midchekoff the whole circumstances of the morning's adventure, a
recital which she continued without other interruption than a smile or
a nod, or a little gesture of the hand to each of the new arrivals as
he came in. If the lady's manner was devoid of all ceremony, that of the
gentlemen was less ceremonious still; for they stretched themselves on
divans, rested their legs upon chairs, and stood back to the fire, with
a degree of careless ease that bespoke them thoroughly at home, Jekyl,
perhaps, the only one present who mingled with this freedom a certain
courteous respect that no familiarity made him ever forget.
“And they are still here?” asked the Prince. “Actually in the house at
this moment?”
“At this very moment!” responded she, emphatically.
“The whole thing passes belief,” exclaimed he.
And now the listless loungers drew their chairs closer to hear the
story, and laugh, as men do, who are seldom moved to mirth save when
ridicule or malice are the provocatives.
“But you haven't heard the worst yet,” said Midchekoff. “Pray tell them
of your visitor of this evening.”
And Lady Hester narrated the appearance of Mr. Purvis, who, having
secured his entrance by a visit to his sister, had so unceremoniously
presented himself in the drawing-room.
“Heaven knows what he said to his Royal Highness when I was away. To
judge from his face, it must have been something atrocious; and the last
thing he said on leaving was, 'I must try and not forget your agreeable
friend's name.'”
“You might as well have invited me as have had your 'friend' Purvis,
after all,” said a young Italian noble, whose political opinions found
no favor at court.
“But what do you mean to do, my Lady?” asked Midchekoff. “Is the enemy
to hold undisputed possession of the fortress?”
“It is precisely on that point I want advice. Prince.”
“What if we form ourselves into a council of state?” said an Austrian
general.
“By all means,” said the others, who now formed a semicircle in front of
Lady Hester's sofa.
“The youngest officer always speaks first,” said the Austrian.
“Then that duty is mine,” said a little man of about eighty-two or
three, and who had represented France at half the courts of Europe.
“I should advise a protocol in the form of a protest. It is a palpable
invasion of territory, but, followed by an ample apology and a speedy
evacuation, may be forgiven. There are historical warrants for such
transgressions being accepted as acts almost of compulsion.”
“The case of Anspach, for instance,” said the Austrian, with a malicious
smile.
“Precisely, General, precisely a case in point,” rejoined the old
diplomate, with a bow and a smile that almost seemed grateful. “The
shortest road to victory is ever the best.”
“Let's try a fever, or a fire. By Jove! the sacrifice of a few chairs
and window-curtains would be a cheap alternative,” said George Onslow.
“Why not essay a compromise, my Lady?” interposed a young German
secretary of legation; “a mixed garrison, like that of Rastadt?”
“Lady Hester's troops to mount guard alternately with the Rickettses'.
Downright treason, base treason!” exclaimed another.
“What would you think of a special mission, my Lady?” simpered Jekyl.
“It would at least serve to enlighten us as to the views of the enemy.
The discussion of the past often throws much light on the future.”
“Jekyl wants to earn a decoration,” said another, laughing. “He intends
to be the envoy himself.”
“I'll wager that I know Midchekoff's policy,” said a young Sicilian,
who always spoke with a frank fearlessness that is most rare with other
Italians.
“Well, let us hear it,” said the Prince, gravely.
“You would counsel the national expedient of retiring before the enemy,
and making the country too cold to hold them?”
“How absurd!” said Lady Hester, half angrily; “give up one's house to
a set of people who have had the impertinence to intrude themselves
unasked?”
“And yet Giasconi is right,” said the Prince. “It is the best suggestion
we have heard yet. Hostilities imply, to a certain extent, equality;
negotiation is an acknowledgment of acquaintanceship; a dignified
retreat, however, avoids either difficulty.”
“In that case, let 's starve them out,” said George. “Suffer no
supplies to be thrown into the place, and exact the most humble terms of
submission.”
“Then, where to go? that 's another question,” said Lady Hester.
“His Eminence expects to see you in Rome,” whispered the Abbe, who had
waited for an opportunity for the suggestion. “I believe he relies on a
promise.”
“Very true; but not just yet. Besides, the season is almost over,” said
Lady Hester, with a slight degree of confusion.
“Don't be frightened, Abbe,” whispered Jekyl in D'Esmonde's ear. “Her
Ladyship is assuredly 'going to Rome' later on.”
The priest smiled, with an expression that told how fully he
comprehended the phrase.
“There 's a little villa of mine, on the Lake of Como, very much at your
service,” said Midchekoff, with the easy indifference of one suggesting
something perfectly indifferent to him.
“Do you mean La Rocca, Prince?” added the Sicilian.
“Yes. They tell me it is prettily situated, but I 've never seen it.
The Empress passed a few weeks there last year, and liked it,” said
Midchekoff, languidly.
“Really, Prince, if I don't know how to accept, I am still more at a
loss for power to refuse your offer.”
“When will you go?” said he, dryly, and taking out his memorandum-book
to write.
“What says Mr. Jekyl?” said Lady Hester, turning to that bland
personage, who, without apparently attending to what went forward, had
heard every syllable of it.
“This is Tuesday,” said Jekyl. “There 's not much to be done; the villa
wants for nothing: I know it perfectly.”
“Ah, it's comfortable, then?” said the Prince, with a slight degree of
animation.
“La Rocca is all that Contarete's taste could make it,” replied Jekyl.
“Poor Contarete! he was an excellent maitre d'hotel,” said Midchekoff.
“He's still with me, somewhere; I rather believe in Tartary, just now.”
“Your Ladyship may leave this on Thursday,” said Jekyl, who well knew
that he was paying the most flattering compliment to Midchekoff in
naming the shortest possible time for preparation.
“Will this be inconvenient, Prince?” asked Lady Hester.
“No; not in the least. If Jekyl will precede you by a couple of hours, I
trust all will be ready.”
“With your permission, then, we will say Thursday,” said she, who, with
her habitual delight in novelty, was already wild with pleasure at the
whole scheme.
“Perhaps I'll come and visit you,” said Midchekoff. “I shall have to go
to Vienna soon.”
Lady Hester bowed and smiled her acknowledgments for this not
over-gracious speech.
“May we follow you, too, Lady Hester?” asked the Sicilian.
“We expect that much from your loyalty, gentlemen. Our exile will test
your fidelity.”
“There 's something or other inconvenient about the stables,” said
Midchekoff, “but I forget what it is; they are up a mountain, or down
in a valley. I don't remember it, but the Emperor said it was wrong, and
should be changed.”
“They are on the opposite side of the lake, Prince,” interposed Jekyl,
“and you must cross over to your carriage by boat.”
“Oh, delightful, quite delightful!” exclaimed Lady Hester, with childish
joy, at the novelty.
“La Rocca is on a little promontory,” said Jekyl, “only approachable
from the water, for the mountain is quite inaccessible.”
“You shall have a road made, if you wish it,” said the Prince,
languidly.
“On no account. I would n't for the world destroy the isolation of the
spot.”
“Do you happen to remember, Mr. Jekyl, if there be any pictures there?”
“There are some perfect gems, by Greuze.”
“Oh! that's where they are, is it? I could never call to mind where they
were left.”
The conversation now became general, in discussing Lady Hester's change
of abode, the life they should all lead when on the lake, and the
innumerable stories that would be circulated to account for her sudden
departure. This same mystery was not the least agreeable feature of the
whole, and Lady Hester never wearied in talking of all the speculations
her new step was certain to originate; and although some of the company
regretted the approaching closure of a house which formed the resource
of every evening, others were not sorry at the prospect of anything
which offered a change to the monotony of their lives.
“You'll come to breakfast to-morrow, Mr. Jekyl,” said Lady Hester, as he
followed the departing guests. “I shall want you the whole day.”
He bowed with his hand to his heart, and never did features of like
mould evince a deeper aspect of devotion.