KATE found Lady Hester, the Prince, and Mr. Jekyl awaiting her as she
entered the drawing-room, all looking even more bored and out of sorts
than people usually do who have been kept waiting for their dinner.
“Everybody has sworn to be as tiresome and disagreeable as possible
to-day,” said Lady Hester. “George said he'd dine here, and is
not coming; Lord Norwood promised, and now writes me word that an
unavoidable delay detains him; and here comes Miss Dalton, the mirror
of punctuality when all else are late, a full half-hour after the time.
There, dear, no excuses nor explanations about all you have been doing,
the thousand calls you 've made, and shops you 've ransacked. I 'm
certain you 've had a miserable day of it.”
Kate blushed deeply, and dreaded to meet Jekyl' s eye; but when she
did, that little glassy orb was as blandly meaningless as any that ever
rattled in the head of a Dutch doll. Even as he gave his arm to lead
her in to dine, nothing in his manner or look betrayed anything like a
secret understanding between them. A bystander might have deemed him a
new acquaintance.
“Petits diners” have, generally, the prerogative of agreeability; they
are the chosen reunions of a few intimates, who would not dilute their
pleasantry even by a single bore. They are also the bright occasions for
those little culinary triumphs which never can be attempted in a wider
sphere. Epigrams, whether of lamb or language, require a select and
special jury to try them; but just in the same proportion as the success
of such small parties is greater, so is their utter failure, when by any
mischance there happens a breakdown in the good spirits or good humor of
the company.
We have said enough to show that the ladies, at least, might be excused
for not displaying those thousand attractions of conversation which all
centre on the one great quality, ease of mind. The Prince was more than
usual out of sorts, a number of irritating circumstances having occurred
to him during the morning. A great sovereign, on whom he had lavished
the most profuse attentions, had written him a letter of thanks, through
his private secretary, enclosing a snuff-box, instead of sending him
an autograph, and the first class of the national order. His glover, in
Paris, had forgotten to make his right hand larger than the left, and a
huge packet that had just arrived was consequently useless. His chef
had eked out a salmi of ortolans by a thrush; and it was exactly that
unlucky morsel the Cardinal had helped himself to at breakfast, and
immediately sent his plate away in disappointment. Rubion, too, his
ninth secretary, had flatly refused to marry a little danseuse that had
just come out in the ballet, a piece of insolence and rebellion on
his part not to be tolerated; and when we add to these griefs an
uncomfortable neckcloth, and the tidings of an insurrection in a
Russian province where he owned immense property in mines, his state of
irritability may be leniently considered.
Jekyl, if truth were told, had as many troubles of his own to confront
as any of the rest. If the ocean he sailed in was not a great Atlantic,
his bark was still but a cockleshell; his course in life required
consummate skill and cleverness, and yet never could be safe even
with that. Notwithstanding all this, he alone was easy, natural, and
agreeable, not as many an inferior artist would have been agreeable, by
any over-effort to compensate for the lack of co-operation in others,
and thus make their silence and constraint but more palpable, his
pleasantry was tinged with the tone of the company, and all his little
smartnesses were rather insinuated than spoken. Quite satisfied if the
Prince listened, or Lady Hester smiled, more than rewarded when they
once both laughed at one of his sallies, he rattled on about the Court
and the town talk, the little scandals of daily history, and the petty
defections of those dear friends they nightly invited to their houses.
While thus, as it were, devoting himself to the amusement of the others,
his real occupation was an intense study of their thoughts, what was
uppermost in their minds, and in what train their speculations were
following. He had long suspected the Prince of being attracted by Kate
Dalton; now he was certain of it. Accustomed almost from childhood to
be flattered on every hand, and to receive the blandest smiles of beauty
everywhere, Midchekoff's native distrust armed him strongly against
such seductions; and had Kate followed the path of others, and exerted
herself to please him, her failure would have been certain. It was her
actual indifference her perfect carelessness on the subject was the
charm to his eyes, and he felt it quite a new and agreeable sensation
not to be made love to.
Too proud of her own Dalton blood to feel any elevation by the marked
notice of the great Russian, she merely accorded him so much of her
favor as his personal agreeability seemed to warrant; perhaps no
designed flattery could have been so successful. Another feeling, also,
enhanced his admiration of her. It was a part of that barbaric instinct
which seemed to sway all his actions, to desire the possession of
whatever was unique in life. Those forms or fancies of which nature
stamps but one, and breaks the die, these were a passion with him. To
possess a bluer turquoise than any king or kaiser, to own an arab of
some color never seen before, to have a picture by some artist who never
painted but one; but whether it were a gem, a vase, a weapon, a diamond,
or a dog, its value had but one test, that it had none its exact equal.
Now, Kate Dalton realized these conditions more than any one he had
ever met. Her very beauty was peculiar; combining, with much of feminine
softness and delicacy, a degree of determination and vigor of character
that to Midchekoff smacked of queenly domination. There was a species of
fierte about her that distinguished her among other women. All that he
had seen done by an illustrious title and a diamond tiara, she seemed
capable of effecting in the simplest costume and without an effort. All
these were wonderful attractions to his eyes; and if he did not fall in
love, it was simply because he did not know how. He, however, did what
to him served as substitute for the passion; he coveted an object which
should form one of the greatest rarities of his collection, and the
possession of which would give him another title to that envy, the most
delicious tribute the world could render him.
There were some drawbacks to his admiration; her birth was not
sufficiently illustrious. His own origin was too recent to make an
alliance of this kind desirable, and he wished that she had been a
princess; even de la main, gauche of some royal house. Jekyl had done
his best, by sundry allusions to Irish greatness, and the blood of
various monarchs of Munster and Conuaught, in times past; but the Prince
was incredulous as to Hibernian greatness; probably the remembrance of
an Irish diamond once offered him for sale had tinged his mind with this
sense of disparagement as to all Irish magnificence. Still Kate rose
above every detracting influence, and he thought of the pride in which
he should parade her through Europe as his own.
Had she been a barb or a bracelet, an antique cup or a Sevres jar, he
never would have hesitated about the acquisition. Marriage, however, was
a more solemn engagement; and he did not quite fancy any purchase that
cost more than mere money. Nothing but the possibility of losing her
altogether could have overcome this cautious scruple; and Jekyl had
artfully insinuated such a conjuncture. “George Onslow's attentions
were,” he said, “quite palpable; and although up to this Miss Dalton
did not seem to give encouragement, who could tell what time and daily
intercourse might effect? There was Norwood, too, with the rank of
peeress in his gift; there was no saying how an ambitious girl might
be tainted by that bait.” In fact, the Prince had no time to lose; and,
although nothing less accorded with his tastes than what imposed haste,
he was obliged to bestir himself on this occasion.
If we have dwelt thus long upon the secret thoughts of the company,
it is because their conversation was too broken and unconnected for
recording. They talked little, and that little was discursive. An
occasional allusion to some social topic, a chance mention of their
approaching departure from Florence, some reference to Como and its
scenery, formed the whole; and then, in spite of Jekyl, whose functions
of “fly-wheel” could not keep the machine a-moving, long pauses would
intervene, and each lapse into a silence apparently more congenial than
conversation. All this while Jekyl seemed to be reading the complex
scheme of doubt, irresolution, and determination that filled
Midchekoff's mind. The stealthy glances of the Russian's eyes towards
Kate, the almost painful anxiety of his manner, to see if she noticed
him while speaking, his watchful observance of her in her every accent
and gesture, told Jekyl the struggle that was then passing within him.
He had seen each of these symptoms before, though in a less degree,
when the coveted object was a horse or a picture; and he well knew how
nothing but the dread of a competition for the prize would rouse him
from this state of doubt and uncertainty.
The evening dragged slowly over, and it was now late, when Lord Norwood
made his appearance. With a brief apology for not coming to dinner, he
drew Jekyl to one side, and, slipping an arm within his, led him into an
adjoining room.
“I say, Jekyl,” whispered he, as they retired out of earshot of the
others, “here's a pretty mess Onslow's got in. There has been a fracas
in the street about Miss Dalton. How she came there at such a time, and
alone, is another matter; and George has struck Guilmard, knocked him
down, by Jove! and no mistake; and they're to meet tomorrow morning. Of
course, there was nothing else for it; a blow has but one reparation,
George will have to stand the fire of the first shot in Europe.”
Jekyl hated a duel. Had he been a member of the Peace Congress, he could
not have detested the arbitrament of arms more heartily. 'It involved
partisanship, it severed intimacies, it barred general intercourse, and
often closed up for a whole season the pleasantest houses of a town. The
announcement of a strict blockade never struck a mercantile community
with more terror. To Norwood the prospect was directly the opposite. Not
only an adept in all the etiquette and ceremonial of such meetings, he
liked to see his name circulated in these affairs as a kind of guarantee
of his readiness to seek a similar reparation for injury. He had trusted
for many a year on his dexterity at twelve paces, and he never missed an
opportunity of sustaining the prestige of a “dead shot.”
It was, then, with an ardor of amateurship that he narrated the various
little preliminary steps which had already been taken. Merkheim, the
Austrian secretary, had called on him, on the part of Guilmard; and as,
in a case so clear, there was little to arrange, the only difficulty lay
in the choice of weapons.
“The Frenchman claims the sword,” said Norwood; “and it is always
awkward to decline that proposition for a soldier. But I suppose George
has about as much chance with one weapon as the other.”
“You think he 'll kill him, my Lord?”
“I think so. If the offence had been less flagrant or less public,
possibly not. But a blow! to be struck down in the open street! I don't
see how he can do less.”
“What a break-up it will cause here!” said Jekyl, with a nod of his
head in the direction of the drawing-room.
“It will send them all back to England, I suppose.”
“I suppose it will,” added Jekyl, mournfully.
“What a bore! It's particularly unpleasant for me, for I hold some
half-dozen of George's acceptances, not due yet; and, of course, the
governor will never think of acquitting them.”
“I conclude it is inevitable the meeting, I mean?” said Jekyl.
“To be sure it is. Onslow took care of that! By the way, Jekyl, how came
she there at such an hour, and alone, too?”
“She had been shopping, I fancy, and missed the carriage. There was some
blunder, I have heard, about the coachman drawing up at the wrong door.”
“No go, Master Jekyl. Don't try it on with me, old fellow. You know all
about it, if you like to tell.”
“I assure you, my Lord, you give me a credit I don't deserve.”
“You know the whole story from beginning to end, Jekyl. I 'd back you
against the field, my boy.”
The other shook his head with an air of supreme innocence.
“Then George knows it?” added Norwood, half asserting, half asking the
question.
“He may, my Lord, for aught I can tell.”
“If so, he's treating me unfairly,” said Norwood, rising and pacing
the room. “As his friend in this affair, there should be no reserve or
concealment with me. You can surely say that much, Jekyl, eh? What a
close fellow you are!”
“It is so easy not to blab when one has nothing to tell,” said Jekyl,
smiling.
“Come, there is something you can tell me. Where does that small
corridor behind George's apartment lead to? There is a door at the end
of it, and, I fancy, a stair beyond it.”
“That, if I mistake not, leads up to Lady Hester. No, I remember now; it
leads to Miss Dalton's room.”
“Just so; I could have sworn it.”
“Why so, my Lord?” asked Jekyl, whose curiosity was now excited to the
utmost.
“That 's my secret, Master Jekyl.”
“But the door is always locked and bolted from within,” said Jekyl, “and
there is no keyhole on the outside.”
“I'll not stand pumping, Jekyl. If you had been frank with me, perhaps I
should have been as open with you.”
For an instant Jekyl hesitated what course to follow. It might be that
Norwood really knew something of great importance. It might be that his
discovery was valueless. And yet, if it concerned Kate in any way, the
information would be all-important, his great game being to make her a
princess, and yet preserve such an ascendancy over her as would render
her his own slave.
“She's a strange girl, that Dalton,” said Norwood. “I wish she had about
forty thousand pounds.”
“She may have more than that yet, my Lord,” said Jekyl, dryly.
“How do you mean, Jekyl? Is there any truth in that story about the
Irish property? Has she really a claim on the estate? Tell me all you
know, old fellow, and I 'll be on the square with you throughout.”
Jekyl, who in his remark had darkly alluded to the prospect of Kate's
marriage with Midchekoff, now saw that Norwood had totally misconceived
his meaning, and like a shrewd tactician, determined to profit by the
blunder.
“Come, Jekyl, be frank and aboveboard. What are her prospects?”
“Better than I have told you, my Lord,” replied he, coolly. “If I
cannot--for I am not at liberty to explain why--I am quite ready to
pledge my word of honor to the truth of what I say, or, what your
Lordship will think more of, to back my opinion by a bet.”
“By Jove! that is news!” said the Viscount, leaning his head on the
chimney to reflect. “You are such a slippery dog, Master Jekyl, you have
so many turnings and windings in you, one is never quite sure with you;
but supposing now, for argument's sake, that one thought of making this
fair damsel a peeress, is there no hitch in the affair no screw loose
that one ought to look to?”
“In her birth, my Lord?”
“No; d--n her birth! I mean about the tin.”
“I believe, my Lord, that I can save you all speculation on the subject
when I say that pursuit would be hopeless there. The Midchekoff has
gained the start, and must win in a canter.”
“That Tartar fellow! nonsense, man; I know better than that. He 'll
never marry anything under royalty; the fellow's mother was a serf, and
he must wash that spot out of his blood whenever he can.”
“You are mistaken, my Lord. He only waits to be certain of being
accepted, to offer himself.”
“Refuse him!” said Norwood, laughing, “there's not that girl in Europe
would refuse him. If every decoration he wore on his breast were a
stripe of the knout upon his back, his wealth would cover all.”
“The Prince would give half his fortune to be assured of all you say, my
Lord,” said Jekyl, gravely.
“By Jove! one might make a good thing of it, even that way,” said
Norwood, half aloud. “I say, Jekyl,” added he, louder, “how much are you
to have? nay, nay, man, there 's no impertinence in the question, we are
both too much men of the world for that. It 's quite clear that this is
your scheme. Now, what 's the damage?”
“My Lord, you are as flattering to my abilities as unjust to my
character.”
“We 'll suppose all that said,” broke in Norwood, impatiently; “and now
we come back to the original question, whether I cannot afford to be
as liberal as the Russian. Only be explicit, and let us understand each
other.”
“My Lord, I will not insult myself by believing I comprehend you;” said
Jekyl, calmly.
And before Norwood could detain him he left the room.
“Jekyl, come back, man! just hear me out you've mistaken me! Confound
the cur,” muttered the Viscount, “with his hypocritical affectation as
if I did not know his metier as well as I know my bootmaker's.”
Norwood walked noiselessly to the door of the salon and peeped in.
Lady Hester, the Prince, and Jekyl were in earnest conversation in
one quarter; while Kate sat apart, apparently engaged with her
embroidery-frame, but in reality too deeply sunk in thought to notice
the bright tints before her. Norwood entered listlessly, and strolling
across the room, took a place beside her. She moved slightly as he drew
forward his chair, and, then, as she drew back her flounce, Norwood
saw that it was of deep black lace. He coolly took out his pocket-book
wherein he had deposited the torn fragment, and, regarding it with
attention, saw that it perfectly corresponded with the dress. So
leisurely and with such circumspection did he proceed that several
minutes elapsed before he looked up.
“You are meditative, my Lord, to-night,” said Kate, at last, making
an effort to relieve an awkward situation; “what are you thinking of,
pray?”
“Admiring your dress, Miss Dalton, which strikes me as singularly
beautiful and becoming.”
“Great praise this, from such an acknowledged judge as Lord Norwood,”
said she, smiling.
“I prefer it to antique lace, which in general is too heavy and cumbrous
for my taste; I like these fine and delicate tissues, so frail and
gossamer-like, not but their frailty, like all other frailty, incurs
occasionally a heavy penalty; as here, for instance, you see this has
been torn.”
“So it has,” said Kate, with confusion, “and I never noticed it. What a
quick eye you must have, my Lord!”
“And a sharp ear, too, Miss Dalton,” said he, significantly; “in fact,
I am one of those people whose every-day faculties do duty for what in
others goes by the name of cleverness. It 's a great pity,” said he,
looking down at the dress; “you see, Miss Dalton, what a false step can
do.”
“And yet I cannot remember when this occurred,” said she, assuming to
misunderstand his equivocal expression.
“Not recall it, not a clew to the mishap?” asked he, shrewdly.
“None,” said she, blushing at the pertinacity with which he clung to the
theme; “but it's of no consequence.”
“Would Miss Dalton think it very singular if I should be able to assist
her memory? Would she accept the service as kindly as it was proffered,
too?”
“Really, my Lord, you begin to speak in riddles,” said she, more than
ever piqued at his persistence.
“And yet,” said he, following out the thread of his own thoughts, “I am
assuredly as safe a counsellor as Albert Jekyl.”
Kate grew deadly pale, but never replied to this speech.
“And certainly,” resumed he, “the man who speaks in his own name should
ever take precedence of an envoy.”
“My Lord,” said she, firmly, “the very little which I can understand of
your words implies a pretension to knowledge and influence over me which
I disdain to accept; but still I cannot believe that you seriously mean
to insult me.”
“Of course not,” said he; “I have come on a very different errand. If I
did passingly allude to bygones, it was to show you that you can afford
to be candid when I am frank. We two, united, would walk over the
course, and no mistake, that 's what I was coming to. I don't mean to
say that the Russian is not richer egad! there 's no disputing that,
still, as to rank, a peer of Great Britain, I take it, is the equal of
any man. Not to remind you of the old adage about 'a bird in the hand' I
speak frankly, because you are your own mistress.”
“Kate, if Lord Norwood will excuse you, come to me for one instant,”
cried Lady Hester.
“Just say yes, before you go, or, if not yes, tell me that I have ground
for hope,” whispered Norwood. But she arose without speaking.
[Illustration: 484]
“I'll not stand a 'hedge,' by Jove!” said Norwood, sulkily; “play or
pay, nothing else for me.”
“Allow me to pass you, my Lord,” said Kate, courteously.
“One word, off or on, Miss Dalton,” said he, rising, and affecting to
make way, while he still barred the passage. A proud, disdainful smile
was all the reply she vouchsafed.
“All right,” said he, insolently; “only remember how we stand, Miss
Dalton, and whenever you want to repair the mischance of your lace
flounce, don't forget the piece is in my keeping;” and he opened the
pocket-book as he spoke, and exhibited the fragment before her. Sick
with a terror she could neither explain nor realize, she lay back again
in her chair, unable to move, while Norwood glided quietly away and left
the room.
“Dear Kate, have you forgotten me all this time?” said Lady Hester, whom
Kate now perceived was alone on the sofa, Midchekoff and Jekyl having
retired into an adjoining gallery, where they walked slowly along, side
by side, deep in conversation.
“You shouldn't have suffered Norwood to engross your attention in that
manner, my dear. The Prince has been quite put out by it, and at such a
moment, too, and how flushed you are! What has he been saying?”
“I can scarcely remember,” said Kate, confusedly.
“Well, it's of no consequence, dear, because I have got something to
tell you that would speedily make you forget it. You know, Kate, how
I always prophesied wonderful things for you, just as I did before for
poor Georgina Elderton, and she married a Rajah afterwards, and died
Begum of something ending in 'Bad.' Indeed, I might say it ended in bad
for herself, poor dear, for I believe she was poisoned. But, to come
back, I always said that you also would have astonishing luck. I told
Sir Stafford so. The first day I saw you, 'She 'll be like Georgina,' I
said. 'You 'll see that girl in a wonderful position one of these days.'
It is not that men care for their wives more than formerly, I rather
fancy the reverse, but they have got a most intense passion just now for
beauty. Wealth and good blood were once the only requisites, but they
are both disregarded now, in comparison with good looks. I suppose the
fashion won't last, it would be very absurd if it should, but while it
is the mode one ought to profit by it. Just as I am wearing all those
horrid old brocades of my great-grand-aunt's, with odious flowers of
crimson and yellow, now that the taste in dress is 'rococo,' but of
course in a year or two people will recover their senses again, and
pretty girls without portions be left for sub-alterns in the line, as
Providence intended they should. Don't you think so, dear?”
The brief question at the end of this long rambling speech would
possibly have puzzled Kate to reply to, had not Lady Hester been far too
much occupied in her own speculations to care for a rejoinder.
“You'll hear people talk a deal of nonsense about unequal marriages,
and they'll quote Heaven knows what instances of girls, generally Irish
ones, picking up princes and royal dukes, and all ending unhappily.
Don't believe a word of it, dearest; there 's never misery where there
's large fortune. The people who cry in velvet always shed rose-water
tears, that don't hurt the skin or spoil the complexion. Not that I can
say so of myself,” added she, with a deep sigh; “but I am a creature
apart. I fervently trust nature does not often form similar ones.
Buccellini told me that I had a fifth pair of nerves, I assure you he
did. It was a very shocking thing, and probably he ought never to have
mentioned it to me; but it perfectly explains the excessive sensibility
of my whole nature, does n't it, dear?”
Kate smiled assent, and Lady Hester went on:
“Then, as to religion, my dear, I'm afraid, indeed, we all think too
little about it. I 'm sure I 'm quite shocked at what I see in society.
It was only the other night Lady Grace Morton kept her seat when the
Cardinal was speaking to her. I apologized to him for it afterwards, and
he said, with such a sweet smile, 'If these Protestants would only give
us back our churches, we 'd forgive their keeping their chairs.' The mot
was very pretty, in French, and well turned was n't it? Of course, then,
you 'll make no obstacle about the Greek Church, which I believe is
exactly like your own, only that the priest has a beard, which I think
more becoming. It looks affectionate, too; it always gives one the idea
of devotion, a girl changing her faith for her husband; and really, in
this tiresome age we live in, a new religion is the only new thing one
ever hears of. Your excellent family that sweet sister and the dear old
papa will probably make a fuss about it; but you know, after all, how
absurd that is, and if you were to marry a Chinese, there 's no saying
what strange creatures you 'd have to pray to. You 'll have to go to
Russia, but only for presentation; that over, the Prince will obtain a
renewal of his permission to reside abroad; still, if you have to pass
a winter at St. Petersburg, it will be far from disagreeable. The women
are too fond of caviare and high play; but they dress just as well as
in Paris, and wear better diamonds. Midchekoff's jewels are unequalled;
and, now that I think of it, there 's one thing I 've set my heart on,
and you must positively promise to give me, a little stiletto with an
emerald hilt and handle. I have pined for it there 's no other word
these three years. He wore it in London, and I have never had it out of
my thoughts since. You can afford to be very generous, dearest. How I
envy you that pleasure! and the delight you 'll feel in providing for
poor papa and Mary no, Elizabeth, I mean how absurd! I should say Ellen.
It was something about that tale of Elizabeth, the Exile of Siberia,
was running in my mind. The Prince will do whatever you suggest, and,
indeed, he has already hinted about your brother Frank joining the
Russian service. He 'll have him named an officer in the Emperor's
Guard. You must insist, too, upon La Rocca being your own settled upon
yourself. They tell me it 's the sweetest spot in the world; and I
'll always live there when you don't want it. I mention this about the
settlement, because there 's no saying how men will behave. I 'm sure I
never could have anticipated such a return as I have met with from Sir
Stafford. And then, you know, with a Russian, one cannot be too guarded.
Don't you agree with me? Well, never mind, you 'll perhaps come round to
my opinion later. But here comes the Prince, and it will be as well you
should retire, dearest. I'll see you in your dressing-room, and tell you
everything.”
And with this assurance Kate retired, with a head and heart as full as
ever young lady's felt.
Kate was hastening to her room, when a short, quick step behind her made
her turn round, and she saw Purvis endeavoring to overtake her.
“Oh! I have you at last,” said he, puffing for breath; “and what a
ch-chase I 've had for it! I 've been in five rooms already, and nearly
had a f-f-fight with that Frenchwoman of Lady Hester's. She 's a regular
T-T-Tartar, she is, and almost boxed my ears for looking into a small
case where my Lady's r-ringlets are kept ha! ha! ha! I saw them, though,
two long and two short, and a pl-pl-plait for the back of the head. How
she m-m-makes up at night!”
“I must say that you have the strangest mode of requiting hospitality,”
said Kate, haughtily.
“It 's all very well to talk of hospi-hospi-hospi--” Here a fit of gaping
brought on coughing, which, after a violent struggle, ended in the
forced utterance of the last syllable of the word, but with such fatigue
and exhaustion that he seemed scarcely able to continue; at last,
however, he did resume. “It's all very well to talk of that, but we got
in here by our own cl-cl-cleverness; at least by Zoe's.”
“Less good-natured persons would find another word for it, Mr. Purvis.”
“So they would. Haggerstone called it a Ricketty stratagem. No
matter; we 're in ha! ha! ha! and he 's out. The pr-pr-proof of the
pu-pu-pudding--”
“Will you excuse me, sir, if I say I must leave you?”
“Don't go, don't go; I've something very important to to tell you.
And first, Zoe my sister Zoe wants to see you. The cook has been
most im-im-impertinent to her. She says it was ginger she put in the
maca-maca-roni, instead of P-P--Parmesan; all his truffles are only
Piedmontese. That is n't all: don't be in such a h-hurry. They 've
changed the wine, too. We had Ch-Ch-Chambertin yesterday, and they 've
given us P-Pomard to-day. How is that to be borne?”
“I really see but one remedy for it, sir,” said Kate, scornfully.
“So Zoe said; that 's exactly her opinion. They must be sent away. Zoe
knows a very ti-ti-tidy cook. He 's not a a top-sawyer, you know, but he
can r-roast a bit of beef, and make a c-capital rice-pudding, and he 'll
come for six dollars a month. Wouldn't that be a sa-saving? Zoe told him
to c-call to-day, and speak to La-Lady Hester.”
“He will find that difficult, sir,” said Kate, dryly.
“And as for the b-butler, such a j-j-jackanapes I never saw; and Zoe
would advise you to take little Pierrette, the fellow you see every
day at the Pergola; he sells the tickets outside the door. He looks
r-r-ragged enough now, but when he 's dressed--”
“You must see, sir,” interposed Kate, “that these are all details in
which it would be both indelicate and impertinent for me to intrude an
opinion about.”
“Not when you li-live in the house; not when you're
dome-dome-domesticated with the family. We 're all in the same bo-boat
now; and Zoe says somebody must steer it. Now Lizetta, Zoe's maid, would
keep the k-keys herself.”
“Pray remember, sir, this is Lady Hester Onslow's house.”
“Egad! it w-won't be long so, if she goes on as she's d-doing. Martha
saw the meat-cart come in this morning, and I had a p-p-peep into the
servants' hall when the fl-flunkeys were feeding, and such w-w-waste,
such re-reckless--”
“Good-evening, Mr. Purvis; I cannot stay longer,” said Kate. And, before
he could interpose a word, she hastened from the spot, and, passing
rapidly up the stairs, gained her own room, leaving Purvis to bethink
him over the mass of things he had not touched upon, and on which he had
mainly intended to debate.