"HOW WELL YOU KNEW!"
It was necessary also that some communication should be made to
Phineas, so that he might not come across Madame Goesler unawares.
Lady Chiltern was more alive to that necessity than she had been to
the other, and felt that the gentleman, if not warned of what was to
take place, would be much more likely than the lady to be awkward at
the trying moment. Madame Goesler would in any circumstances be sure
to recover her self-possession very quickly, even were she to lose it
for a moment; but so much could hardly be said for the social powers
of Phineas Finn. Lady Chiltern therefore contrived to see him alone
for a moment on his arrival. "Who do you think is here?"
"Lady Laura has not come!"
"Indeed, no; I wish she had. An old friend, but not so old as Laura!"
"I cannot guess;--not Lord Fawn?"
"Lord Fawn! What would Lord Fawn do here? Don't you know that Lord
Fawn goes nowhere since his last matrimonial trouble? It's a friend
of yours, not of mine."
"Madame Goesler?" whispered Phineas.
"How well you knew when I said it was a friend of yours. Madame
Goesler is here,--not altered in the least."
"Madame Goesler!"
"Does it annoy you?"
"Oh, no. Why should it annoy me?"
"You never quarrelled with her?"
"Never!"
"There is no reason why you should not meet her?"
"None at all;--only I was surprised. Did she know that I was coming?"
"I told her yesterday. I hope that I have not done wrong or made
things unpleasant. I knew that you used to be friends."
"And as friends we parted, Lady Chiltern." He had nothing more to
say in the matter; nor had she. He could not tell the story of what
had taken place between himself and the lady, and she could not keep
herself from surmising that something had taken place, which, had she
known it, would have prevented her from bringing the two together at
Harrington.
Madame Goesler, when she was dressing, acknowledged to herself that
she had a task before her which would require all her tact and all
her courage. She certainly would not have accepted Lady Chiltern's
invitation had she known that she would encounter Phineas Finn at the
house. She had twenty-four hours to think of it, and at one time had
almost made up her mind that some sudden business should recall her
to London. Of course, her motive would be suspected. Of course Lady
Chiltern would connect her departure with the man's arrival. But even
that, bad as it would be, might be preferable to the meeting! What a
fool had she been,--so she accused herself,--in not foreseeing that
such an accident might happen, knowing as she did that Phineas Finn
had reappeared in the political world, and that he and the Chiltern
people had ever been fast friends! As she had thought about it, lying
awake at night, she had told herself that she must certainly be
recalled back to London by business. She would telegraph up to town,
raising a question about any trifle, and on receipt of the answer she
could be off with something of an excuse. The shame of running away
from the man seemed to be a worse evil than the shame of meeting him.
She had in truth done nothing to disgrace herself. In her desire
to save a man whom she had loved from the ruin which she thought
had threatened him, she had--offered him her hand. She had made
the offer, and he had refused it! That was all. No; she would not
be driven to confess to herself that she had ever fled from the face
of man or woman. This man would be again in London, and she could
not always fly. It would be only necessary that she should maintain
her own composure, and the misery of the meeting would pass away
after the first few minutes. One consolation was assured to her.
She thoroughly believed in the man,--feeling certain that he had
not betrayed her, and would not betray her. But now, as the time
for the meeting drew near, as she stood for a moment before the
glass,--pretending to look at herself in order that her maid might
not remark her uneasiness, she found that her courage, great as
it was, hardly sufficed her. She almost plotted some scheme of a
headache, by which she might be enabled not to show herself till
after dinner. "I am so blind that I can hardly see out of my eyes,"
she said to the maid, actually beginning the scheme. The woman
assumed a look of painful solicitude, and declared that "Madame did
not look quite her best." "I suppose I shall shake it off," said
Madame Goesler; and then she descended the stairs.
[Illustration: "I suppose I shall shake it off."]
The condition of Phineas Finn was almost as bad, but he had a much
less protracted period of anticipation than that with which the lady
was tormented. He was sent up to dress for dinner with the knowledge
that in half an hour he would find himself in the same room with
Madame Goesler. There could be no question of his running away, no
possibility even of his escaping by a headache. But it may be doubted
whether his dismay was not even more than hers. She knew that she
could teach herself to use no other than fitting words; but he was
almost sure that he would break down if he attempted to speak to her.
She would be safe from blushing, but he would assuredly become as
red as a turkey-cock's comb up to the roots of his hair. Her blood
would be under control, but his would be coursing hither and thither
through his veins, so as to make him utterly unable to rule himself.
Nevertheless, he also plucked up his courage and descended, reaching
the drawing-room before Madame Goesler had entered it. Chiltern was
going on about Trumpeton Wood to Lord Baldock, and was renewing his
fury against all the Pallisers, while Adelaide stood by and laughed.
Gerard Maule was lounging on a chair, wondering that any man could
expend such energy on such a subject. Lady Chiltern was explaining
the merits of the case to Lady Baldock,--who knew nothing about
hunting; and the other guests were listening with eager attention.
A certain Mr. Spooner, who rode hard and did nothing else,
and who acted as an unacknowledged assistant-master under Lord
Chiltern,--there is such a man in every hunt,--acted as chorus, and
indicated, chiefly with dumb show, the strong points of the case.
"Finn, how are you?" said Lord Chiltern, stretching out his left
hand. "Glad to have you back again, and congratulate you about the
seat. It was put down in red herrings, and we found nearly a dozen of
them afterwards,--enough to kill half the pack."
"Picked up nine," said Mr. Spooner.
"Children might have picked them up quite as well,--and eaten them,"
said Lady Chiltern.
"They didn't care about that," continued the Master. "And now
they've wires and traps over the whole place. Palliser's a friend of
yours--isn't he, Finn?"
"Of course I knew him,--when I was in office."
"I don't know what he may be in office, but he's an uncommon bad sort
of fellow to have in a county."
"Shameful!" said Mr. Spooner, lifting up both his hands.
"This is my first cousin, you know," whispered Adelaide, to Lady
Baldock.
"If he were my own brother, or my grandmother, I should say the
same," continued the angry lord. "We must have a meeting about it,
and let the world know it,--that's all." At this moment the door was
again opened, and Madame Goesler entered the room.
When one wants to be natural, of necessity one becomes the reverse of
natural. A clever actor,--or more frequently a clever actress,--will
assume the appearance; but the very fact of the assumption renders
the reality impossible. Lady Chiltern was generally very clever in
the arrangement of all little social difficulties, and, had she
thought less about it, might probably have managed the present affair
in an easy and graceful manner. But the thing had weighed upon her
mind, and she had decided that it would be expedient that she should
say something when those two old friends first met each other again
in her drawing-room. "Madame Max," she said, "you remember Mr. Finn."
Lord Chiltern for a moment stopped the torrent of his abuse. Lord
Baldock made a little effort to look uninterested, but quite in vain.
Mr. Spooner stood on one side. Lady Baldock stared with all her
eyes,--with some feeling of instinct that there would be something to
see; and Gerard Maule, rising from the sofa, joined the circle. It
seemed as though Lady Chiltern's words had caused the formation of a
ring in the midst of which Phineas and Madame Goesler were to renew
their acquaintance.
"Very well indeed," said Madame Max, putting out her hand and looking
full into our hero's face with her sweetest smile. "And I hope Mr.
Finn will not have forgotten me." She did it admirably--so well that
surely she need not have thought of running away.
But poor Phineas was not happy. "I shall never forget you," said he;
and then that unavoidable blush suffused his face, and the blood
began to career through his veins.
"I am so glad you are in Parliament again," said Madame Max.
"Yes;--I've got in again, after a struggle. Are you still living in
Park Lane?"
"Oh, yes;--and shall be most happy to see you." Then she seated
herself,--as did also Lady Chiltern by her side. "I see the poor
Duke's iniquities are still under discussion. I hope Lord Chiltern
recognises the great happiness of having a grievance. It would be a
pity that so great a blessing should be thrown away upon him." For
the moment Madame Max had got through her difficulty, and, indeed,
had done so altogether till the moment should come in which she
should find herself alone with Phineas. But he slunk back from the
gathering before the fire, and stood solitary and silent till dinner
was announced. It became his fate to take an old woman into dinner
who was not very clearsighted. "Did you know that lady before?" she
asked.
"Oh, yes; I knew her two or three years ago in London."
"Do you think she is pretty?"
"Certainly."
"All the men say so, but I never can see it. They have been saying
ever so long that the old Duke of Omnium means to marry her on his
deathbed, but I don't suppose there can be anything in it."
"Why should he put it off for so very inopportune an occasion?" asked
Phineas.