THE LAST CHANCE OF JACQUES.
While Mowbray and Philippa were holding their singular colloquy in one
portion of the laughing and animated crowd, our friend Sir Asinus,
with that perseverance which characterized his great intellect, was
endeavoring to make an impression on the heart of the maiden of his
love. But it was all in vain.
In vain did Sir Asinus dance minuets without number, execute bows
beyond example--the little maiden obstinately persisted in bestowing
her smiles on her companion, Bathurst.
That young gentleman finally bore her off triumphantly on his arm.
Sir Asinus stood still for a moment, then sent these remarkable words
after the little damsel:
"You have crushed a faithful heart--you have spurned a deep affection,
beautiful and fascinating maiden. Inured to female charms, and weary
of philosophy, I found in thee the ideal of my spirit--truth and
simplicity: the fates forbid, and henceforth I am nought! Never again
look up, O maiden, to my window, when the morning sun shines on it, as
you pass to school--expect to see me in those fair domains no more!
Henceforth I am a wanderer, and am homeless. In my bark, named in past
days the Rebecca, I will seek some foreign clime, and nevermore return
to these shores. I'll buy me a fiddle in Italy, and hobnob with
gondoliers, singing the songs of Tasso on Venetian waters. Never again
expect to see my face at the window as you go on merrily--I leave my
native shore to-morrow, and am gone!"
With which words--words which terrified the little damsel
profoundly--Sir Asinus folded his arms, and in this position, with a
sad scowl upon his face, passed forth into the night.
As he reached the door of the Raleigh, he perceived Mrs. Wimple and
one or two elderly ladies getting into a chariot; and behind them
Jacques leading Belle-bouche triumphantly toward his small two-seated
vehicle.
Jacques was radiant, and this the reader may possibly understand, if
he will recollect the scheme of this gentleman--to address
Belle-bouche where no fate could interrupt him.
As Sir Asinus passed on, frowning, Jacques cast upon that gentleman a
look which expressed triumphant happiness.
"You won't interrupt me on my way back, will you?" he said, smiling;
"eh, my dear Sir Asinus?"
Sir Asinus ground his teeth.
Belle-bouche was safely stowed into the vehicle--Jacques gathered up
the reins, was about to get in--when, disastrous fate! the voice of
Mrs. Wimple was heard, declaring that the night had grown too cool for
her beloved niece to ride in the open air.
Sir Asinus lingered and listened with sombre pleasure.
In vain did Jacques remonstrate, and Belle-bouche declare the night
delightful: Aunt Wimple, strong in her fears of night air, was
inexorable.
So Belle-bouche with a little pout got down, and Jacques cursing his
evil stars, assisted her into the chariot.
Would he not come in, and spend the night at Shadynook?--they could
make room for him by squeezing, said Aunt Wimple.
No, no, he could not inconvenience them--he would not be able to stay
at Shadynook--he hoped they would have a pleasant journey; and as the
chariot rolled off, the melancholy Jacques gazed after it with an
expression of profound misery.
He felt a hand upon his shoulder; he turned and saw Sir Asinus. But
Sir Asinus was not deriding him--he was groaning.
"Let us commit suicide," said the knight, in gloomy tones.
Jacques started.
"Suicide!"
"The night is favorable, and my hopes are dead, like yours," said Sir
Asinus, gloomily.
"That is enough to kill at one time," said the melancholy Jacques;
"mine are not--animation is only suspended. On the whole, my dear
friend, I am opposed to your proposition. Good night!"
And Jacques, with a melancholy smile, departed.
Sir Asinus, with a gesture of despair, rushed forth into the night.
Whether that gentleman had been reading romances or not, we cannot
say; but as he disappeared, he bore a strong resemblance to a
desperate lover bent on mischief.
Within, the reel had now begun--that noble divertisement, before which
all other dances disappear, vanquished, overwhelmed, driven from the
field, and weeping their departed glories. For the reel is a high
mystery--it is superior to all--it cannot be danced beyond the borders
of Virginia--as the Seville orange of commerce loses its flavor, and
is nothing. The reel ends all the festivities of the old Virginian
gatherings, and crowns with its supreme merriment the pyramid of
mirth. When it is danced properly,--to proper music, by the proper
persons, and with proper ardor,--all the elements break loose. Mirth
and music and bright eyes respectively shower, thunder and lighten. In
the old days, it snowed too--for the powder fell in alabaster dust and
foamy clouds, and crammed the air with fragrance.
As for the reel which they danced at the Raleigh tavern, in the Apollo
room, upon the occasion we allude to, who shall speak of it with
adequate justice? Jacques lost it--tulip-like, the king of
grace--Belle-bouche was with him; and a thousand eyes were on the
maze,--the maze which flashed, and buzzed, and rustled, ever
merrier--and glittered with its diamonds and far brighter eyes--and
ever grew more tangled and more simple, one and many, complicate and
single, while the music roared above in flashing cadences and grand
ambrosial grace.
And merrier feet were never seen. The little maidens seemed to pour
their hearts out in the enchanting divertisement, and the whole
apartment, with its dazzling lights and flowers, was full of laughter,
mirth, and holiday from end to end. When the final roar of the violins
dropped into silence, and so crumbled into nothing, all was ended.
Cavaliers offered their arms--ladies put on their hoods--chariots
drove up and received their burdens; and in another hour, the joyous
festival was but a recollection. After the reel--nothingness.
The Apollo room was still again--waiting for other men than youthful
gallants, other words than flattering compliments.
And Mowbray went home with a wounded heart, which all the smiles of
Philippa could not heal--for Hoffland was his rival. Denis went home
with a happy heart, for Lucy had smiled on him. Sir Asinus was
miserable--boy Bathurst was happy. The ball at the Raleigh was a true
microcosm, where John smiled and James sighed, and all played on, and
went away miserable or the reverse.
And so it ended.