THE MAGICIAN.
No more brilliant spectacle than this masked ball could be
imagined. Among other _salons_ and galleries, thrown open, was
the enormous perspective of the "Grande Galerie des Glaces,"
lighted up on that occasion with no less than four thousand wax
candles, reflected and repeated by all the mirrors, so that the
effect was almost dazzling. The grand suite of _salons_ was
thronged with masques, in every conceivable costume. There was
not a single room deserted. Every place was animated with music,
voices, brilliant colours, flashing jewels, the hilarity of
extemporized comedy, and all the spirited incidents of a cleverly
sustained masquerade. I had never seen before anything, in the
least, comparable to this magnificent _fête_. I moved along,
indolently, in my domino and mask, loitering, now and then, to
enjoy a clever dialogue, a farcical song, or an amusing
monologue, but, at the same time, keeping my eyes about me, lest
my friend in the black domino, with the little white cross on his
breast, should pass me by.
I had delayed and looked about me, specially, at every door I
passed, as the Marquis and I had agreed; but he had not yet
appeared.
While I was thus employed, in the very luxury of lazy amusement,
I saw a gilded sedan chair, or, rather, a Chinese palanquin,
exhibiting the fantastic exuberance of "Celestial" decoration,
borne forward on gilded poles by four richly-dressed Chinese; one
with a wand in his hand marched in front, and another behind; and
a slight and solemn man, with a long black beard, a tall fez,
such as a dervish is represented as wearing, walked close to its
side. A strangely-embroidered robe fell over his shoulders,
covered with hieroglyphic symbols; the embroidery was in black
and gold, upon a variegated ground of brilliant colours. The robe
was bound about his waist with a broad belt of gold, with
cabalistic devices traced on it, in dark red and black; red
stockings, and shoes embroidered with gold, and pointed and
curved upward at the toes, in Oriental fashion, appeared below
the skirt of the robe. The man's face was dark, fixed, and
solemn, and his eyebrows black, and enormously heavy--he carried
a singular-looking book under his arm, a wand of polished black
wood in his other hand, and walked with his chin sunk on his
breast, and his eyes fixed upon the floor. The man in front waved
his wand right and left to clear the way for the advancing
palanquin, the curtains of which were closed; and there was
something so singular, strange, and solemn about the whole thing,
that I felt at once interested.
I was very well pleased when I saw the bearers set down their
burthen within a few yards of the spot on which I stood.
The bearers and the men with the gilded wands forthwith clapped
their hands, and in silence danced round the palanquin a curious
and half frantic dance, which was yet, as to figures and
postures, perfectly methodical. This was soon accompanied by a
clapping of hands and a ha-ha-ing, rhythmically delivered.
While the dance was going on a hand was lightly laid on my arm,
and, looking round, a black domino with a white cross stood
beside me.
"I am so glad I have found you," said the Marquis; "and at this
moment. This is the best group in the rooms. _You_ must speak to
the wizard. About an hour ago I lighted upon them, in another
_salon_, and consulted the oracle, by putting questions. I never
was more amazed. Although his answers were a little disguised it
was soon perfectly plain that he knew every detail about the
business, which no one on earth had heard of but myself, and two
or three other men, about the most cautious persons in France. I
shall never forget that shock. I saw other people who consulted
him, evidently as much surprised, and more frightened than I. I
came with the Count St. Alyre and the Countess."
He nodded toward a thin figure, also in a domino. It was the
Count.
"Come," he said to me, "I'll introduce you."
I followed, you may suppose, readily enough.
The Marquis presented me, with a very prettily-turned allusion to
my fortunate intervention in his favour at the Belle Etoile; and
the Count overwhelmed me with polite speeches, and ended by
saying, what pleased me better still:
"The Countess is near us, in the next _salon_ but one, chatting with her
old friend the Duchesse d'Argensaque; I shall go for her in a few
minutes; and when I bring her here, she shall make your acquaintance;
and thank you, also, for your assistance, rendered with so much courage
when we were so very disagreeably interrupted."
"You must, positively, speak with the magician," said the Marquis
to the Count de St. Alyre, "you will be so much amused. _I_ did
so; and, I assure you, I could not have anticipated such answers!
I don't know what to believe."
"Really! Then, by all means, let us try," he replied.
We three approached, together, the side of the palanquin, at
which the black-bearded magician stood.
A young man, in a Spanish dress, who, with a friend at his side,
had just conferred with the conjuror, was saying, as he passed us
by:
"Ingenious mystification! Who is that in the palanquin. He seems
to know everybody."
The Count, in his mask and domino, moved along, stiffly, with us,
toward the palanquin. A clear circle was maintained by the
Chinese attendants, and the spectators crowded round in a ring.
One of these men--he who with a gilded wand had preceded the
procession--advanced, extending his empty hand, palm upward.
"Money?" inquired the Count.
"Gold," replied the usher.
The Count placed a piece of money in his hand; and I and the
Marquis were each called on in turn to do likewise as we entered
the circle. We paid accordingly.
The conjuror stood beside the palanquin, its silk curtain in his
hand; his chin sunk, with its long, jet-black beard, on his
chest; the outer hand grasping the black wand, on which he
leaned; his eyes were lowered, as before, to the ground; his face
looked absolutely lifeless. Indeed, I never saw face or figure so
moveless, except in death.
The first question the Count put, was--
"Am I married, or unmarried?"
The conjuror drew back the curtain quickly, and placed his ear
toward a richly-dressed Chinese, who sat in the litter; withdrew
his head, and closed the curtain again; and then answered--
"Yes."
The same preliminary was observed each time, so that the man with
the black wand presented himself, not as a prophet, but as a
medium; and answered, as it seemed, in the words of a greater
than himself.
Two or three questions followed, the answers to which seemed to
amuse the Marquis very much; but the point of which I could not
see, for I knew next to nothing of the Count's peculiarities and
adventures.
"Does my wife love me?" asked he, playfully.
"As well as you deserve."
"Whom do I love best in the world?"
"Self."
"Oh! That I fancy is pretty much the case with every one. But,
putting myself out of the question, do I love anything on earth
better than my wife?"
"Her diamonds."
"Oh!" said the Count.
The Marquis, I could see, laughed.
"Is it true," said the Count, changing the conversation
peremptorily, "that there has been a battle in Naples?"
"No; in France."
"Indeed," said the Count, satirically, with a glance round. "And
may I inquire between what powers, and on what particular
quarrel?"
"Between the Count and Countess de St. Alyre, and about a
document they subscribed on the 25th July, 1811."
The Marquis afterwards told me that this was the date of their
marriage settlement.
The Count stood stock-still for a minute or so; and one could
fancy that they saw his face flushing through his mask.
Nobody, but we two, knew that the inquirer was the Count de St.
Alyre.
I thought he was puzzled to find a subject for his next question;
and, perhaps, repented having entangled himself in such a
colloquy. If so, he was relieved; for the Marquis, touching his
arm, whispered--
"Look to your right, and see who is coming."
I looked in the direction indicated by the Marquis, and I saw a
gaunt figure stalking toward us. It was not a masque. The face
was broad, scarred, and white. In a word, it was the ugly face of
Colonel Gaillarde, who, in the costume of a corporal of the
Imperial Guard, with his left arm so adjusted as to look like a
stump, leaving the lower part of the coat-sleeve empty, and
pinned up to the breast. There were strips of very real
sticking-plaster across his eyebrow and temple, where my stick
had left its mark, to score, hereafter, among the more honourable
scars of war.