MADEMOISELLE DE TRICOTRIN.
"The ladies took it heavily."
The excitement produced by the arrival of the Marquis de Tricotrin and
his daughter at the Court of Oneiria was only to be expected. It was
perfectly understood that the King must marry within the year, and it
would hardly describe the situation to say that the chances of
Mademoiselle de Tricotrin were discussed with greater animation than
those of any previous candidate for the "crown of kisses." For her case
was regarded as a certainty. But that only made the excitement to see
her more intense, and, perhaps, no royal ball in Oneiria was ever so
brilliantly attended as that at which the lady was to make her _début_
the day following her arrival at the capital.
It was a scene that it is difficult for us even to imagine. Costume in
Oneiria was as yet entirely untainted by revolutionary ideas. Rumours of
the new fashions had indeed reached the country, but they had been
ignored as the ridiculous affectations of low-bred fanatics. The
fantastic modes of the century were in the heyday of their glory, and
indeed had reached a degree of extravagance which it was natural to look
for in so advanced and elegant a court as that of Kophetua XIII. In no
other spot on earth perhaps could you have seen the vulgar handiwork of
Nature so completely effaced as in his ballroom to-night.
Under mountains of powdered curls, and forests of ribbons, in which
crouched large tropical birds, the women limped on tiny, high-heeled
shoes, as though their exquisite refinement could not endure the
comparatively crude ideas of their Creator; every characteristic of
their humanity was distorted or obliterated past all recognition with
yard-long stomachers, high-peaked stays, and hoops that mocked at
Heaven; and the men pursued them in every extravagance, with patch and
powder and paint, with stiff full skirts and grotesque headgear, as
though refinement were only to be found in effeminacy. It was a living
garden of artificial flowers, where the natural blossoms on figured
satins seemed to deride the unnatural bloom on disfigured faces.
Still it was a brilliant kaleidoscopic scene as the rooms filled up, and
coteries fell into groups to chat till the King appeared. For there was
an immense deal of gossip to be got through. On the question of the hour
nobody knew anything, and every one had something to tell. General
Dolabella was completely invested the moment he entered the rooms, and a
lisping fire was at once opened on him to compel him to surrender his
authoritative information.
For of course the General knew all about it. He was a minister, uniting
in his own person the offices of Commander-in-chief and Director of
Public Worship. It was said to have been the last act of the founder to
bring together these two portfolios. He looked upon the standing army
and the Church as the two great enemies of personal liberty, and it is
supposed his idea was that no one man would ever be able to develop both
to a dangerous degree of efficiency; or, as others conjectured, he hoped
by drawing the two departments into close proximity to increase the
chance of friction between them. In this the arrangement was very
successful, though it certainly led to some extraordinary results.
General Dolabella had held his place for many years, and was regarded
successful administrator. He was a man of two sides, as he often said
himself, and perhaps his success was due to that. It was undoubtedly
this gift which had won him the confidence of the Kallikagathist party
and placed him at its head. It had procured him, besides, advantages
such as few enjoy. Though a married man, with a growing family, he was a
professed misogynist. It was the tone which the King gave to the Court,
and the General was nothing if not fashionable. He spoke of his
marriage as an imprudence of his youth. But it did not stand in his way.
His wife, of whom it must be said he stood a little in awe, was so
entirely deceived by the tone of his conversation, that she never
interfered with his little flirtations, and it must be confessed he had
not a few. There was hardly a woman at Court whom he had not loved in
his time. To an ordinary man it would have been difficult to reconcile
such tastes with the character of a professed misogynist, but the dually
constituted General was not an ordinary man. He from the first made it
his mission to convert the women of the Court to the creed professed by
the men, beginning with the prettiest as being probably the most
dangerous heretics. If he had not as yet made many converts, he had
succeeded in vastly amusing himself and his little friends, and it was
with the satisfied smile of a popular cavalier that the General received
the broadside of questions his fair besiegers delivered.
"I protest, you should have declared war in proper form," said the
gallant warrior, as he balanced himself on his tight satin shoes, with
his elbows squeezed closely in to his pinched waist, and his white
hands, half hidden in lace, toying mincingly before him with his cane.
"This procedure is extremely uncanonical. Had you sent me a trumpet to
blow a formal citation I should have been prepared for you. But where
was ever a woman," he added, with the sweetest smile, "who would not
take a mean advantage if she could?"
"You are a vastly provoking man, General," said one of his oldest
experiments. "You know all about them, and could tell us if you chose."
"May I die," answered the Minister, "if I know more than yourselves."
"But we know nothing," they cried, in excited chorus.
"Well, then," said Dolabella, with an air of pity, "I suppose I must
tell you what I have heard, or your poor little hearts will ache with
curiosity."
"Dear General!" they responded, like a choir.
"You must know then, to begin with," he said, "the Marquis is an
_émigré_. Some two or three years past, having imbibed the principles
without the practice of the Revolution, he was obliged to leave his
country. At first, it is said, he went to England, and then, on the
advice of the doctors, he came to the Canaries."
"But what about the daughter?" asked the ladies. "Is she a Girondist or
a Jacobin, or whatever they are?"
"I know no more," answered the General; "except that a long
correspondence between the Queen-mother and the Spanish Governor has
resulted in an invitation."
"Then it is an Agathist nomination," said the ladies, prepared to make
up their minds accordingly.
"I really cannot say," replied the Minister, "without breach of
confidence. But see, here comes his majesty. How well he looks!"
Everybody turned to see the King enter the ballroom with his mother. As
they passed down the room people remarked that she seemed pale and
weary, but that the King never looked better. It was always an
excitement to both girls and mothers to try and get a bow all to
themselves on these occasions. There was a saying amongst them in
Oneiria that where there is a bachelor there is hope. And, besides,
whatever may have been his motives, Turbo had been entirely successful
in his education of the Prince. He had grown to have a manner with women
which, combined with his personal beauty and the additional advantage of
a crown, was irresistible. In public it was one of extreme deference and
courtesy, which, as he was never tired of hinting in the most delicately
chosen phrases, arose from the duty he owed to himself, and not because
the objects of his attentions in any way deserved them. But it was when
alone with a woman that he shone the brightest. Then his deferential
manner was spiced with a charming effrontery. It never went as far as
disrespect, and yet it was so unlike his ordinary demeanour, that each
delighted victim thought he reserved it for herself alone. So it came
about as Turbo had promised himself, and many a girl looked eagerly that
night for one kind glance before her new rival should appear.
It was the subject of considerable remark that the guests of the evening
had not yet arrived. The women put it down to an elaborate toilet, and
consoled themselves with the prospect of something really fine, and
possibly new; though there was very little chance of that, seeing how
advanced and instructed the Court of Oneiria considered itself. The men
said it was a mere woman's trick to make a sensation.
It was not till the King had taken his seat on the daïs, and the
Chamberlain had cleared before him a wide space in the rustling throng
for the opening dance, that a loud voice from the top of the broad oak
steps, which descended to the ballroom, announced: "The Marquis and
Mademoiselle de Tricotrin."
Every eye was turned to them in a moment as they came down the steps,
and in another the whole assembly, oblivious of etiquette, was frankly
staring at them. Such a sensation had never been known at Court before
within the memory of the oldest Chamberlain. They had looked for a woman
like themselves, with hoops wider, waist longer, and head-dress more
extravagant, perhaps, than their own. That would not have surprised them
considering that she was fresh from Europe, although they seriously
doubted whether even a Frenchwoman could go further than themselves. But
for this they were quite unprepared. It took away their breath. Above a
beautiful face, unrouged, and without a single patch, they saw, instead
of a powdered and feathered mountain, a soft mass of flowing, almost
dishevelled, warm brown hair. But her dress! That was stranger still.
Whatever they might have thought of the rest, this was intolerable. It
was nothing but a simple robe of the softest primrose silk, which clung
about her perfect figure voluptuously, and frankly expressed every
graceful movement of her limbs. Close beneath her breast it was girdled
by a golden cord, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. Otherwise it was
unconfined, and yet so fashioned as to drape her closely in simple,
natural folds. It was, in a word, the beautiful but extravagantly
classic costume of the Revolution.
When she saw the ordeal before her, her colour heightened, and she
shrank closer to her father's arm, but she recovered directly, and
advanced down the lane they instinctively made for her, with the easy
complacency of one who knows she is the best dressed woman in the room.
Her father looked as proud as his daughter to see their wonder. He was
a tall, spare man, with an affectation of Spartan austerity in his face
and dress, and he smiled contemptuously on the rouged and bepatched men
about him, as with his lovely daughter on his arm he advanced towards
the King.
There was certainly a titter as they passed, for the wits were not to be
easily cowed, and whispered smart things to their fair neighbours. The
ladies, who had no wits to whisper to them, passed judgment for
themselves, without, of course, forgetting that they were in the
presence of a political event.
"La! what a ridiculous object," said a Kallist lady, with a golden
pheasant perching on her wig.
"I protest it is not decent," sniffed a widow of Agathist views and a
damaged reputation.
"It is vastly too pronounced to be either elegant or seemly," was the
opinion of a superior person's lady, with a turn for aphorism, and a
Kallikagathist salon.
But the only question after all was, What would the King think? On
tiptoe they watched her reach the daïs, and with a perfect grace salute
his hand. A few words passed between them; the King smiled as though
thoroughly amused; then, to the utter confusion of the cavillers, they
saw him give her his hand to open the ball, and many a sinking heart was
compelled to confess to itself that Mademoiselle de Tricotrin, in her
first stride, had come nearer the throne than any previous candidate in
her whole course.
The King was certainly delighted, and he still wore a smile of complete
amusement as he took his place with her for the minuet. As the dance
proceeded his delight only became more obvious. And no wonder. There are
many beautiful sights under heaven, but none more beautiful than the
vision which filled the eyes of the enchanted King. He had never seen a
thing like that before. It was as though the very spirit of Nature had
taken shape before him. In her the formal bric-à-brac postures, to which
he had been accustomed, became transformed with the grace of a poising
bird. From one bewitching attitude to another she seemed to float like a
soft bright feather playing in a summer wind. Every movement was living
with the freedom which her yielding costume allowed. With the grace of
the wind-bent reeds her white arms moved in ever-flowing harmony. Now it
was to draw the soft silken folds across her daintily, as with one tiny
foot advanced she paused in the fitful measures of the dance; and now to
raise her little hand to meet the King's with a magic motion, which
seemed to waft her towards him. With each new figure the enchantment
increased. In the voluptuous movement and the throb of the tinkling
music she grew excited, and seemed to forget herself like a child at
play. Her ripe lips were parted, her cheeks softly flushed, and her wide
blue eyes were filled with an artless look of baby delight.
The whole patched and powdered throng crowded round to see, as close as
the hoops would allow. Soon each man and woman was as fascinated as the
King. Even the voice of envy was hushed, and some one said afterwards
that more than one gentleman who was regarded as a likely nomination for
the Parliamentary chair was distinctly seen to smack his lips, a report
perhaps which was quite unfounded, and arose merely out of the
undisguised admiration depicted on every face.
Yes, on every face, both of man and woman, except the one which the
Marquis de Tricotrin alone in all the room was scanning narrowly. Behind
the King's empty chair Turbo supported himself, watching the scene
uneasily. The Marquis marked with concern and quiet determination the
horrible snarl he wore.
"She is dancing, step by step, step by step, right into his heart," said
Turbo to himself, his words falling unconsciously in time with the
fiddlers, "and the fools made a lane for her to come to the throne--like
a queen. It was ominous, but I hardly thought him so unstable. The
simpleton is actually taking pains with his dancing."
His lips moved. M. de Tricotrin could hear nothing, but somehow he
smiled quietly to himself. It was at that moment that Turbo looked up to
see what the Marquis thought of it. Their eyes met, and with the
readiness of old diplomatists they advanced frankly to each other.
"Permit me, Marquis," said Turbo, smiling as nearly as he could, "to
trespass so far on really sacred grounds as to observe that your
daughter is charming."
"You must positively allow me, Chancellor," said the Marquis, "to tell
her what you say, at the risk of turning her head. It will be of
inestimable help to her. She really knows nothing, and is quite afraid
of her _gaucheries_."
"Indeed," answered Turbo, "and she seemed so instructed! It only shows
how rich an inheritance it is of itself to be the child of a man like
you, who knows everything."
"Nay, Chancellor," said the Marquis, with a bow, "you flatter me
monstrously. My knowledge is not what you think, but since you so
frankly declare yourself my friend, I will confess to a pretty trick of
guessing many things I have no means of knowing."
The dance ended, and with it their conversation. It had not been long,
but for those two it was enough to bring about a mutual understanding.
Each took it as a declaration of war, and began at once to look for
vantage-points.
Before the end of the evening the King had danced another minuet with
Mademoiselle de Tricotrin. She performed with even greater grace and
_abandon_ than before, and her success was complete. The ball of course
was a failure. It had promised exceedingly well, but then a great
misfortune had befallen it. There had been one woman present who far
outshone the rest. Nothing can be much more disastrous to a ball than
that. The nice women could not help feeling humbled, the others were
full of envy. As for the men, they were inattentive, preoccupied, and
discontented. For them it was an evening of disillusionment.
Mademoiselle de Tricotrin's radiance killed the prettiest face in the
room. It was impossible for them to disguise, even by the most desperate
attempts at gallantry, that the whole time they were thinking of the new
beauty. The women were pardonably resentful. Under these circumstances
gallantry is apt to lose much of its flavour, and the number of silent
couples was phenomenal.
Mademoiselle de Tricotrin left early, pleading fatigue. The King
followed almost immediately, and then the ball collapsed. Every one was
glad to get away. For the women life was a blank till they had a gown
like Mademoiselle de Tricotrin's. They had no interest in anything but
how to procure one with the utmost speed. No one seemed to doubt for a
moment that a complete change was to come over the Court, and the De
Tricotrins were to lead the fashion. Every man with any pretensions to
style went away registering a determination to suborn the Marquis's
valet; and as the two strangers were carried to their lodging in the
neighbourhood of the palace, perhaps there was no Oneirian so happy as
the Queen-mother.
"Well, my child?" said the Marquis interrogatively to his daughter, as
soon as they were alone.
"He is just the kind of man I expected to find," answered Mademoiselle
de Tricotrin dreamily, as she leant back in her chair and clasped her
hands behind her head.
"Then you will manage it?"
"I cannot tell, sir."
"But why not? Let me tell you, my child, I am pleased with you. You
never looked prettier. I am certain we shall succeed. Why, the King was
simply fascinated."
"Yes," she answered, a little wearily, "I know he was, but that goes a
very little way with a man like him."