Life has been subjected to many ingenious comparisons: and if we do not
understand it any better, it is not for want of what is called
"reasoning by illustration." Amongst other resemblances, there are
moments when, to a quiet contemplator, it suggests the image of one of
those rotatory entertainments commonly seen in fairs, and known by the
name of "whirligigs or roundabouts," in which each participator of the
pastime, seated on his hobby, is always apparently in the act of
pursuing some one before him, while he is pursued by some one behind.
Man, and woman too, are naturally animals of chase; the greatest still
finds something to follow, and there is no one too humble not to be an
object of prey to another. Thus, confining our view to the village of
Hazeldean, we behold in this whirligig Dr. Riccabocca spurring his hobby
after Lenny Fairfield; and Miss Jemima, on her decorous side-saddle,
whipping after Dr. Riccabocca. Why, with so long and intimate a
conviction of the villany of our sex, Miss Jemima should resolve upon
giving the male animal one more chance of redeeming itself in her eyes,
I leave to the explanation of those gentlemen who profess to find "their
only books in woman's looks." Perhaps it might be from the
over-tenderness and clemency of Miss Jemima's nature; perhaps it might
be that, as yet, she had only experienced the villany of man born and
reared in those cold northern climates; and in the land of Petrarch and
Romeo, of the citron and myrtle, there was reason to expect that the
native monster would be more amenable to gentle influences, less
obstinately hardened in his iniquities. Without entering farther into
these hypotheses, it is sufficient to say, that on Signor Riccabocca's
appearance in the drawing-room, at Hazeldean, Miss Jemima felt more than
ever rejoiced that she had relaxed in his favor her general hostility to
man. In truth, though Frank saw something quizzical in the old-fashioned
and outlandish cut of the Italian's sober dress; in his long hair, and
the _chapeau bras_, over which he bowed so gracefully, and then pressed
it, as if to his heart, before tucking it under his arm, after the
fashion in which the gizzard reposes under the wing of a roasted pullet;
yet it was impossible that even Frank could deny to Riccabocca that
praise which is due to the air and manner of an unmistakable gentleman.
And certainly as, after dinner, conversation grew more familiar, and the
Parson and Mrs. Dale, who had been invited to meet their friend, did
their best to draw him out, his talk, though sometimes a little too wise
for his listeners, became eminently animated and agreeable. It was the
conversation of a man who, besides the knowledge which is acquired from
books and life, had studied the art which becomes a gentleman--that of
pleasing in polite society. Riccabocca, however, had more than this
art--he had one which is often less innocent,--the art of penetrating
into the weak side of his associates, and of saying the exact thing
which hits it plump in the middle, with the careless air of a random
shot.
The result was, that all were charmed with him; and that even Captain
Barnabas postponed the whist-table for a full hour after the usual
time. The Doctor did not play--he thus became the property of the two
ladies, Miss Jemima and Mrs. Dale.
Seated between the two, in the place rightfully appertaining to Flimsey,
who this time was fairly dislodged, to her great wonder and discontent,
the Doctor was the emblem of true Domestic Felicity, placed between
Friendship and Love.
Friendship, as became her, worked quietly at the embroidered
pocket-handkerchief, and left Love to its more animated operations. "You
must be very lonely at the Casino," said Love, in a sympathizing tone.
"Madam," replied Riccabocca, gallantly, "I shall think so when I leave
you."
Friendship cast a sly glance at Love--Love blushed or looked down on the
carpet, which comes to the same thing. "Yet," began Love again--"yet
solitude, to a feeling heart--"
Riccabocca thought of the note of invitation, and involuntarily buttoned
his coat, as if to protect the individual organ thus alarmingly referred
to.
"Solitude, to a feeling heart, has its charms. It is so hard even for
us, poor ignorant women, to find a congenial companion--but for _you_!"
Love stopped short, as if it had said too much, and smelt confusedly at
its boquet.
Dr. Riccabocca cautiously lowered his spectacles, and darted one glance,
which, with the rapidity and comprehensiveness of lightning, seemed to
envelope and take in it, as it were, the whole inventory of Miss
Jemima's personal attractions. Now, Miss Jemima, as I have before
observed, had a mild and pensive expression of countenance, and she
would have been positively pretty had the mildness looked a little more
alert, and the pensiveness somewhat less lackadaisical. In fact, though
Miss Jemima was constitutionally mild, she was not _de natura_ pensive;
she had too much of the Hazeldean blood in her veins for that sullen and
viscid humor called melancholy, and therefore this assumption of
pensiveness really spoilt her character of features, which only wanted
to be lighted up by a cheerful smile to be extremely prepossessing. The
same remark might apply to the figure, which--thanks to the same
pensiveness--lost all the undulating grace which movement and animation
bestow on the fluent curves of the feminine form. The figure was a good
figure, examined in detail--a little thin, perhaps, but by no means
emaciated--with just and elegant proportions, and naturally light and
flexible. But that same unfortunate pensiveness gave the whole a
character of inertness and languor; and when Miss Jemima reclined on the
sofa, so complete seemed the relaxation of nerve and muscle, that you
would have thought she had lost the use of her limbs. Over her face and
form, thus defrauded of the charms Providence had bestowed on them, Dr.
Riccabocca's eye glanced rapidly; and then moving nearer to Mrs.
Dale--"Defend me" (he stopped a moment, and added,) "from the charge of
not being able to appreciate congenial companionship."
"Oh, I did not say that!" cried Miss Jemima.
"Pardon me," said the Italian, "if I am so dull as to misunderstand you.
One may well lose one's head, at least, in such a neighborhood as this."
He rose as he spoke, and bent over Frank's shoulder to examine some
Views of Italy, which Miss Jemima (with what, if wholly unselfish, would
have been an attention truly delicate) had extracted from the library in
order to gratify the guest.
"Most interesting creature, indeed," sighed Miss Jemima, "but too--too
flattering!"
"Tell me," said Mrs. Dale gravely, "do you think, love, that you could
put off the end of the world a little longer, or must we make haste in
order to be in time?"
"How wicked you are!" said Miss Jemima, turning aside.
Some few minutes afterwards, Mrs. Dale contrived it so that Dr.
Riccabocca and herself were in a farther corner of the room, looking at
a picture said to be by Wouvermans.
_Mrs. Dale._--"She is very amiable, Jemima, is she not?"
_Riccabocca._--"Exceedingly so. Very fine battle-piece!"
_Mrs. Dale._--"So kind-hearted."
_Riccabocca._--"All ladies are. How naturally that warrior makes his
desperate cut at the runaway!"
_Mrs. Dale._--"She is not what is called regularly handsome, but she has
something very winning."
_Riccabocca_, with a smile.--"So winning, that it is strange she is not
won. That gray mare in the foreground stands out very boldly!"
_Mrs. Dale_, distrusting the smile of Riccabocca, and throwing in a more
effective grape charge.--"Not won yet; and it _is_ strange!--she will
have a very pretty fortune."
_Riccabocca._--"Ah!"
_Mrs. Dale._--"Six thousand pounds, I dare say--certainly four."
_Riccabocca_, suppressing a sigh, and with his wonted address.--"If Mrs.
Dale were still single, she would never need a friend to say what her
portion might be; but Miss Jemima is so good that I am quite sure it is
not Miss Jemima's fault that she is still--Miss Jemima!"
The foreigner slipped away as he spoke, and sat himself down beside the
whist-players.
Mrs. Dale was disappointed, but certainly not offended.--"It would be
such a good thing for both," muttered she, almost inaudibly.
"Giacomo," said Riccabocca, as he was undressing, that night, in the
large, comfortable, well-carpeted English bedroom, with that great
English four-posted bed in the recess which seems made to shame folks
out of single-blessedness--"Giacomo, I have had this evening the offer
of probably six thousand pounds--certainly of four thousand."
"_Cosa meravigliosa!_" exclaimed Jackeymo--"miraculous thing!" and he
crossed himself with great fervor. "Six thousand pounds English! why,
that must be a hundred thousand--blockhead that I am!--more than a
hundred and fifty thousand pounds Milanese!" And Jackeymo, who was
considerably enlivened by the Squire's ale, commenced a series of
gesticulations and capers, in the midst of which he stopped and cried,
"But not for nothing?"
"Nothing! no!"
"These mercenary English!--the Government wants to bribe you."
"That's not it."
"The priests want you to turn heretic."
"Worse than that," said the philosopher.
"Worse than that! O Padrone! for shame!"
"Don't be a fool, but pull off my pantaloons--they want me never to wear
_these_ again!"
"Never to wear what!" exclaimed Jackeymo, staring outright at his
master's long legs in their linen drawers--"never to wear--"
"The breeches," said Riccabocca, laconically.
"The barbarians!" faltered Jackeymo.
"My nightcap!--and never to have any comfort in this," said Riccabocca,
drawing the cotton head-gear; "and never to have any sound sleep in
that," pointing to the four-posted bed. "And to be a bondsmen and a
slave," continued Riccabocca, waxing wroth; "and to be wheedled and
purred at, and pawed, and clawed, and scolded, and fondled, and blinded,
and deafened, and bridled, and saddled--bedevilled and--married."
"Married!" said Jackeymo, more dispassionately--"that's very bad,
certainly; but more than a hundred and fifty thousand _lire_, and
perhaps a pretty young lady, and--"
"Pretty young lady!" growled Riccabocca, jumping into bed and drawing
the clothes fiercely over him. "Put out the candle, and get along with
you--do, you villainous old incendiary!"