We continued our journey the next morning, but it was not without
considerable difficulty that I succeeded in maintaining my former place
in the cabriolet. That stupid old woman fancied that princes were born
to be bored, and suggested accordingly that I should travel inside with
her, leaving the macaw and the toy terriers to keep company with Miss
Herbert. It was only by insisting on an outside place as a measure of
health that I at last prevailed, telling her that Dr. Corvisart was
peremptory on two points regarding me. “Let him,” said he, “have
abundance of fresh air, and never be without some young companion.”
And so we were again in our little leathern tent, high up in the fresh
breezy atmosphere, above dusty roads, and with a glorious view over that
lovely country that forms the approach to the Black Forest. The road
was hilly, and the carriage-way a heavy one; but we had six horses, who
trotted along briskly, shaking their merry bells, and flourishing their
scarlet tassels, while the postilions cracked their whips or broke out
into occasional bugle performances, principally intended to announce to
the passing peasants that we were very great folk, and well able to pay
for all the noise we required.
I was not ashamed to confess my enjoyment in thus whirling along at
some ten miles the hour, remembering how that great sage Dr. Johnson had
confessed to a like pleasure, and, animated by the inspiriting air and
the lovely landscape, could not help asking Miss Herbert if she did not
feel it “very jolly.”
She assented with a sort of constrained courtesy that by no means
responded to the warmth of my own sensations, and I felt vexed and
chafed accordingly.
“Perhaps you prefer travelling inside?” said I, with some pique.
“No, sir.”
“Perhaps you dislike travelling altogether?”
“No, sir.”
“Perhaps--” But I checked myself, and with a somewhat stiff air, I said,
“Would you like a book?”
“If it would not be rude to read, sir, while you--”
“Oh, not at all, never mind me, I have more than enough to think of.
Here are some things by Dumas, and Paul Féval, and some guide-book
trash.” And with that I handed her several volumes, and sank back into
my corner in sulky isolation.
Here was a change! Ten minutes ago all Nature smiled on me; from
the lark in the high heavens to the chirping grasshopper in the tall
maize-field, it was one song of joy and gladness. The very clouds as
they swept past threw new and varied light over the scene, as though to
show fresh effects of beauty on the landscape,--the streams went by in
circling eddies, like smiles upon a lovely face,--and now all was sad
and crape-covered! “What has wrought this dreary change?” thought I; “is
it possible that the cold looks of a young woman, good-looking, I grant,
but no regular downright beauty after all, can have altered the aspect
of the whole world to you? Are you so poor a creature in yourself,
Potts, so beggared in your own resources, so barren in all the
appliances of thought and reflection, that if your companion, whoever
she or he may be, sulk, you must needs reflect the humor? Are you
nothing but the mirror that displays what is placed before it?”
I set myself deliberately to scan the profile beside me; her black veil,
drawn down on the side furthest from me, formed a sort of background,
which displayed her pale features more distinctly. All about the brow
and orbit was beautifully regular, but the mouth was, I fancied, severe;
there was a slight retraction of the upper lip that seemed to imply
over-firmness, and then the chin was deeply indented,--“a sign,” Lavater
says, “of those who have a will of their own.” “Potts,” thought I, “she
'd rule you,--that's a nature would speedily master yours. I don't think
there's any softness either, any of that yielding gentleness there, that
makes the poetry of womanhood; besides, I suspect she's worldly,--those
sharply cut nostrils are very worldly! She is, in fact,”--and here I
unconsciously uttered my thoughts aloud,--“she is, in fact, one to say,
'Potts, how much have you got a-year? Let us have it in figures.'”
“So you are still ruminating over the life of that interesting
creature,” said she, laying down her book to laugh; “and shall I
confess, I lay awake half the night, inventing incidents and imagining
situations for him.”
“For whom?” said I, innocently.
“For Potts, of course. I cannot get him out of my head such as I first
fancied he might be, and I see now, by your unconscious allusion to him,
that he has his place in your imagination also.”
“You mistake, Miss Herbert,--at least you very much misapprehend my
conception of that character. The Potts family has a high historic
tradition. Sir Constantine Potts was cup-bearer to Henry H., and I
really see no reason why ridicule should attach to one who may be, most
probably, his descendant.”
“I 'm very sorry, sir, if I should have dared to differ with you; but
when I heard the name first, and in connection with two such names as
Algernon Sydney, and when I thought by what strange accident did they
ever meet in the one person--”
“You are very young, Miss Herbert, and therefore not removed from the
category of the teachable,” said I, with a grand didactic look. “Let
me guard you, therefore, against the levity of chance inferences. What
would you say if a person named Potts were to make the offer of his
hand? I mean, if he were a man in all respects acceptable, a gentleman
captivating in manner and address, agreeable in person, graceful and
accomplished,--what would you reply to his advances?”
“Really, sir, I am shocked to think of the humble opinion I may be
conveying of my sense and judgment, but I'm afraid I should tell him it
is impossible I could ever permit myself to be called Mrs. Potts.”
“But, in Heaven's name, why?--I ask you why?”
“Oh, sir! don't be angry with me; it surely does not deserve such a
penalty; at the worst, it is a mere caprice on my part.”
“I am not angry, young lady, I am simply provoked; I am annoyed to think
that a prejudice so unworthy of you should exercise such a control over
your judgment.”
“I am quite ashamed, sir, to have been the occasion of so much
displeasure to you. I hope and trust you will ascribe it to my ignorance
of life and the world.”
“If you are dissatisfied with yourself, Miss Herbert, I have no more
to say,” said I, taking up a book, and pretending to read, while I felt
such a disgust with myself that if I had n't been strapped up with
a leather apron up to my chin, I think I should have thrown myself
headlong down and let the wheel pass over me. “What is it, Potts, that
is corrupting and destroying the naturally fine and noble nature you
are certainly endowed with? Is it this confounded elevation to princely
rank? If you were not a Royal Highness, would you have dared to utter
such cruelties as these? Would you, in your most savage of moods, have
presumed to make that pale cheek paler, and forced a tear-drop into that
liquid eye? I always used to think that the greatest effort of a man was
to keep him on a level with those born above him. I now find it is far
harder to stoop than to stand on tiptoe. Such a pain in the back comes
of always bending, and it is so difficult to do it gracefully!”
I was positively dying to be what the French call _bon prince_, and
yet I didn't know how to set about it. I could not take off one of my
decorations,--a cross or a ribbon,--for I had none; nor give it, because
she, being a woman, could n't wear it. I could n't make her one of the
court ladies, for there was no court; and yet it was clear something
should be done, if one only knew what it was. “I suppose now,” said I to
myself, “a real R. H. would see his way here at once; the right thing to
do, the exact expression to use would occur as naturally to his mind
as all this embarrassment presents itself to mine. 'Whenever your head
cannot guide you,' says a Spanish proverb, 'ask your heart;' and so I
did, and my heart spoke thus: 'Tell her, Potts, who you are, and what;
say to her, “Listen, young lady, to the words of truth from one who
could tell you far more glibly, far more freely, and far more willingly,
a whole bushel of lies. It will sit light on his heart that he deceive
the old lady inside, but _you_ he cannot, will not deceive. Do not
deem the sacrifice a light one; it cost St. George far less to go out
dragon-hunting than it costs me to slay this small monster who ever
prompts me to feats of fancy.”'”
“I am very sorry to be troublesome, sir, but as we change horses here, I
will ask you to assist me to alight; the weather looks very threatening,
and some drops of rain have already fallen.”
These words roused me from my revery to action, and I got down, not very
dexterously either, for I slipped, and made the postilion laugh,
and then I helped her, who accomplished the descent so neatly, so
gracefully, showing the least portion of such an ankle, and accidentally
giving me such a squeeze of the hand! The next moment she was lost to
me, the clanking steps were drawn up, the harsh door banged to, and I
was alone,--all alone in the world.
Like a sulky eagle, sick of the world, I climbed up to my eyry. I
no longer wished for sunshine or scenery; nay, I was glad to see the
postboys put on their overcoats and prepare for a regular down-pour. I
liked to think there are some worse off than even Potts. In half an hour
_they_ will be drenched to the skin, and I 'll not feel a drop of it!
The little glass slide at my back was now withdrawn, and Miss Herbert's
pale, sweet face appeared at it. She was saying that Mrs. Keats urgently
entreated I would come inside, that she was so uneasy at my being
exposed to such a storm.
I refused, and was about to enter into an account of my ascent of Mont
Blanc, when the slide was closed and my listener lost to me.
“Is it possible, Potts,” said I, “that she has detected this turn of
yours for the imaginative line, and that she will not encourage it,
even tacitly? Has she said, 'There is a young man of genius, gifted
marvellously with the richest qualities, and yet such is the exuberance
of his fancy that he is positively its slave. Not content to let him
walk the earth like other men, she attaches wings to him and carries him
off into the upper air. I will endeavor, however hard the task, to clip
his feathers and bring him back to the common haunts of men'? Try it,
fair enchantress, try it!”
The rain was now coming down in torrents, and with such swooping gusts
of wind that I was forced to fasten the leather curtain in front of me,
and sit in utter darkness, denied even the passing pleasure of seeing
the drenched postboys bobbing up and down on the wet saddles. I grew
moody and sad. Every Blue Devil of my acquaintance came to pay his visit
to me, and brought a few more of his private friends. I bethought me
that I was hourly travelling away further and further from my home; that
all this long road must surely be retraced one day or other, though not
in a carriage and post, but probably in a one-horse cart, with a mounted
gendarme on either side of it, and a string to my two wrists in their
bridle hands. I thought of that vulgar herd of mankind so ready to weep
over a romance, and yet send the man who acts one to a penal
settlement. I thought how I should be described as the artful knave,
the accomplished swindler. As if I was the first man who ever took an
exaggerated estimate of his own merits! Go into the House of Commons,
visit the National Gallery, dine at a bar or a military mess, frequent,
in one word, any of the haunts of men, and with what _pièces pour servir
à l'histoire_ of self-deception will you come back loaded!
The sliding window at my back was again drawn aside, and I heard Miss
Herbert's voice,--
“If I am not giving you too much trouble, sir, would you kindly see if I
have not dropped a bracelet--a small jet bracelet--in the _coupé?_”
“I 'm in the dark here, but I'll do my best to find it.”
“We are very nearly so, too,” said she; “and Mrs. Keats is fast asleep,
quite unmindful of the thunder.”
With some struggling I managed to get down on my knees, and was soon
engaged in a very vigorous search. To aid me, I lighted a lucifer match,
and by its flickering glare I saw right in front of me that beautiful
pale face, enclosed as it were in a frame by the little window. She
blushed at the fixedness of my gaze, for I utterly forgot myself in my
admiration, and stared as though at a picture. My match went out, and I
lit another. Alas! there she was still, and I could not force myself to
turn away, but gazed on in rapture.
“I'm sorry to give you this trouble, sir,” said she, in some confusion.
“Pray never mind it. It will doubtless be found this evening when we
arrive.”
Another lucifer, and now I pretended to be in most eager pursuit; but
somehow my eyes would look up and rest upon her sweet countenance.
“A diamond bracelet, you said?” muttered I, not knowing what I was
saying.
“No, sir, mere jet, and of no value whatever, save to myself. I am
really distressed at all the inconvenience I have occasioned you. I
entreat you to think no more of it.”
My match was out, and I had not another. “Was ever a man robbed of such
ecstasy for a mere pennyworth of stick and a little sulphur? O Fortune!
is not this downright cruelty?”
As I mumbled my complaints, I searched away with an honest zeal, patting
the cushions all over, and poking away into most inscrutable pockets
and recesses, while she, in a most beseeching tone, apologized for her
request and besought me to forget it.
“Found! found!” cried I, in true delight, as I chanced upon the treasure
at my feet.
“Oh, sir, you have made me so happy, and I am so much obliged, and so
grateful to you!”
“Not another word, I beseech you,” whispered I; “you are actually
turning my head with ecstasy. Give me your hand, let me clasp it on your
arm, and I am repaid.”
“Will you kindly pass it to me, sir, through the window?” said she,
timidly.
“Ah!” cried I, in anguish, “your gratitude has been very fleeting.”
She muttered something I could not catch, but I heard the rustle of her
sleeve against the window-frame, and dark as it was, pitch dark, I knew
her hand was close to me. Opening the bracelet, I passed it round her
wrist as reverently as though it were the arm of a Queen of Spain, one
touch of whom is high treason. I trembled so, that it was some
seconds before I could make the clasp meet. This done, I felt she was
withdrawing her hand, when, with something like that headlong impulse
by which men set their lives on one chance, I seized the fingers in my
grasp, and implanted two rapturous kisses on them. She snatched her hand
hastily away, closed the window with a sharp bang, and I was alone once
more in my darkness, but in such a flutter of blissful delight that even
the last reproving gesture could scarcely pain me. It mattered little to
me that day that the lightning felled a great pine and threw it across
the road, that the torrents were so swollen that we only could pass
them with crowds of peasants around the carriage with ropes and poles
to secure it, that four oxen were harnessed in front of our leaders to
enable us to meet the hurricane, or that the postboys were paid treble
their usual fare for all their perils to life and limb. I cared for none
of these, Enough for me that, on this day, I can say with Schiller,
“Ich habe genossen das irdische Gluck,
Ich habe gelebt and geliebt!”