Daniel looked up. In the box which Maxime had pointed out to him he saw
a girl of such rare and dazzling beauty, that he could hardly retain
a cry of admiration. She was leaning forward, resting on the velvet
cushion of her box, in order to hear better.
Her hair, perfectly overwhelming in its richness, was so carelessly
arranged, that no one could doubt it was all her own; it was almost
golden, but with such a bright sheen, that at every motion sparks seemed
to start from its dark masses. Her large, soft eyes were overshadowed by
long lashes; and as she now opened them wide, and now half closed them
again, they changed from the darkest to the lightest blue.
Her lips smiled in all the freshness and innocence of merry youth,
displaying now and then two rows of teeth, matchless in their beauty and
regularity.
“Can that be,” said Daniel to himself, “the wretched creature whose
portrait Maxime has just given me?”
A little behind her, and half-hid in the shade of the box, appeared
a large bony head, adorned with an absurd bunch of feathers. Her eyes
flashed indignation; and her narrow lips seemed to say perpetually,
“Shocking!” That was Mrs. Brian.
Still farther back, barely discernible after long examination, arose a
tall, stiff figure, a bald, shining head, two dark, deep-sunk eyes, a
hooked nose, and a pair of immense streaming whiskers. That was the Hon.
Thomas Elgin, commonly known as Sir Thorn.
As Daniel was persistently examining the box, with the smiling girl,
the stern old woman, and the placid old man in the background, he felt
doubts of all kinds creeping into his mind.
Might not Maxime be mistaken? Did he not merely repeat the atrocious
slanders of the envious world?
These thoughts troubled Daniel; and he would have mentioned his doubts
to Maxime; but his neighbors were enthusiasts about music, and, as soon
as he bent over to whisper into his friend’s ear, they growled, and, if
he ventured to utter a word, they forced him to be silent. At last the
curtain fell. Many left the house; others simply rose to look around;
but Maxime and Daniel remained in their seats. Their whole attention was
concentrated upon Miss Brandon’s box, when they saw the door open, and
a gentleman enter, who, at the distance at which they sat, looked like
a very young man. His complexion was brilliantly fair, his beard jet
black, and his curly hair most carefully arranged. He had his opera-hat
under his arm, a camellia in his button-hole; and his light-yellow kid
gloves were so tight, that it looked as if they must inevitably burst
the instant he used his hands.
“Count Ville-Handry!” said Daniel to himself.
Somebody touched his shoulder slightly; and, as he turned round, he
found it was Maxime, who said with friendly irony,--
“Your old friend, is it not? The happy lover of Miss Brandon?”
“Yes, it is so. I have to confess it.”
He was just in the act of explaining the reasons for his silence, when
M. de Brevan interrupted him, saying,--
“Just look, Daniel; just look!”
The count had taken a seat in the front part of the box, by Miss
Brandon’s side, and was talking to her with studied affectation, bending
over her, gesticulating violently, and laughing till he showed every
one of the long yellow teeth which were left him. He was evidently on
exhibition, and desired to be seen by everybody. Suddenly, however,
after Miss Brandon had said a few words to him, he rose, and went out.
The bell behind the scenes was ringing, and the curtain was about to
rise again.
“Let us _go_,” said Daniel to M. de Brevan: “I am suffering.”
He was really suffering, mortified by the ridiculous scene which
Henrietta’s father was playing. But he entertained no longer any doubts;
he had clearly seen how the adventuress was spurring on the old man, and
fanning his feeble flame.
“Ah! it will be hard work to rescue the count from the wiles of this
witch,” said Maxime.
Having left the house, they were just turning into the narrow street
which leads to the boulevards, when they saw a tall man, wrapped up in
a huge cloak, coming towards them, and behind him a servant with a whole
armful of magnificent roses. It was Count Ville-Handry. Coming suddenly
face to face upon Daniel, he seemed at first very much embarrassed;
then, recovering himself, he said,--
“Why, is this you? Where on earth do you come from?”
“From the theatre.”
“And you run away before the fifth act? That is a crime against the
majesty of Mozart. Come, go back with me, and I promise you a pleasant
surprise.”