"IS any body dead?"
"Yes, somebody dies every second."
"So they say. But I don't mean that. Why are you looking so solemn?"
"I am not aware that I look so very solemn."
"You do, then, as solemn as the grave."
"Then I must be a grave subject." The young man affected to smile.
"You smile like a death's head, Abel. What is the matter?"
Abel Lee took his interrogator by the arm, and drew him aside. When
they were a little apart from the company, he said in a low voice--
"You know that I have taken a fancy to Arabella Jones?"
"Yes, you told me that a month ago."
"She is here to-night."
"So I see."
"And is as cold to me as an icicle."
"For a very plain reason."
"Yes, too plain."
"Whiskers and moustaches are driving all before them. The man is
nothing now; hair is every thing. Glover will carry off the prize
unless you can hit upon some plan to win back the favour of Miss
Arabella. You must come forward with higher attractions than this
rival can bring."
Lee drew his fingers involuntarily over his smooth lip and chin, a
movement which his friend observed and comprehended.
"Before the hair can grow Arabella will be won," he said.
"Do you think I would make such a fool of myself."
"Fool of yourself! What do you mean by that? You say you love
Arabella Jones. If you wish to win her, you must make yourself
attractive in her eyes. To make yourself attractive, you have only
to cultivate whiskers, moustaches, and an imperial, and present a
more luxuriant crop than Glover. The whole matter is very simple,
and comprised in a nut-shell. The only difficulty in the way is the
loss of time consequent upon the raising of this hairy crop. It is
plain, in fact, that you must take a shorter way; you must purchase
what you haven't time to grow. Hide yourself for a week or two, and
then make your appearance with enough hair upon your face to conceal
one-half or two-thirds of your features, and your way to the heart
of Miss Jones is direct."
"I feel too serious on the subject to make it a matter of jesting,"
said Lee, not by any means relishing the levity of his friend.
"But, my dear sir," urged the friend, "what I propose is your only
chance. Glover will have it all his own way, if you do not take some
means to head him off. The matter is plain enough. In the days of
chivalry, a knight would do almost any unreasonable thing--enter
upon almost any mad adventure--to secure the favour of his
lady-love; and will you hesitate when nothing of more importance
than the donning of false whiskers and moustaches is concerned? You
don't deserve to be thought of by Miss Jones."
"Jest away, Marston, if it is so pleasant to you," remarked Lee,
with a slightly offended air.
"No, but my dear fellow, I am in earnest. I really wish to serve
you. Still if the only plan at all likely to succeed is so repugnant
to your feelings, you must let the whole matter go. Depend upon it,
there is no other chance for you with the lady."
"Then she must go. I would not make a fool of myself for the Queen
of Sheba. A man who sacrifices his own self-respect in order to
secure the love of a woman becomes unworthy of her love."
"Well said, Abel Lee! That is the sentiment of a right mind, and
proves to me that Arabella Jones is unworthy of you. Let her go to
the whiskers, and do you try to find some one who has soul enough to
love the man."
The young men separated, to mingle with the company. Marston could
not help noticing Miss Arabella Jones more particularly than before,
and perceived that she was coldly polite to all the young men who
ventured to approach her, but warm and smiling as a June morning to
an individual named Glover who had been abroad and returned home
rich in hairy honours, if in nothing else. The manners of this
Glover distinguished him as much as his appearance.
"To think that a woman could be attracted by a thing like that!" he
said to himself a little pettishly, as he saw the alacrity with
which Arabella seized the offered arm of Glover to accompany him to
the supper table.
Marston was a fellow of a good deal of humour, and relished
practical joking rather more than was consistent with the comfort of
other people. We cannot commend him for this trait of character. But
it was one of his faults, and all men have their failings. It would
have given him great pleasure, could he have induced Abel Lee to set
up a rivalry in the moustache and whisker line; but Abel had too
much good sense for that, and Marston, be it said to his credit, was
rejoiced to find that he had. Still, the idea having once entered
his head, he could not drive it away. He had a most unconquerable
desire to see some one start in opposition to Glover, and was half
tempted to do it himself, for the mere fun of the thing. But this
was rather more trouble than he wished to take.
Not very long after this, a young stranger made his appearance in
fashionable circles, and created quite a flutter among the ladies.
He had, besides larger whiskers, larger moustache, and larger
imperial than Glover, a superb goatee, and a decided foreign accent.
He soon threw the American in the shade, especially as a whisper got
out that he was a French count travelling through the country, who
purposely concealed his title. The object of his visit, it was also
said, was the selection of a wife from among the lovely and
unsophisticated daughters of America. He wished to find some one who
had never breathed the artificial air of the higher circles in his
own country; who would love him for himself alone, and become his
loving companion through life.
How all these important facts in relation to him got wind few paused
to inquire. Young ladies forgot their plain-faced, untitled, vulgar
lovers, and put on their best looks and most winning graces for the
count. For a time he carried all before him. Daily might he be seen
in Chestnut street, gallanting some favoured belle, with the elegant
air of a dancing-master, and the grimace of a monkey. Staid citizens
stopped to look at him, and plain old ladies were half in doubt
whether he were a man or a pongo.
At last the count's more particular attentions were directed toward
Miss Arabella Jones, and from that time the favoured Glover found
that his star had passed its zenith. It was in vain that he curled
his moustache more fiercely, and hid his chin in a goatee fully as
large as the count's; all was of no avail. The ladies generally, and
Miss Arabella in particular, looked coldly upon him.
As for Abel Lee, the bitterness of his disappointment was already
past. The conduct of Arabella had disgusted him, and he therefore
looked calmly on and marked the progress of events.
At length the count, from paying marked attention to Arabella in
company, began to visit her occasionally at her father's house,
little to the satisfaction of Mr. Jones, the father, who had never
worn a whisker in his life, and had a most bitter aversion to
moustaches. This being the case, the course of Arabella's love did
not, it may be supposed, run very smooth, for her father told her
very decidedly that he was not going to have "that monkey-faced
fellow" coming about his house. Shocked at such vulgar language,
Arabella replied--
"Gracious me, father! Don't speak in that way of Mr. De Courci. He's
a French count, travelling in disguise."
"A French monkey! What on earth put that nonsense into your head?"
"Everybody knows it, father. Mr. De Courci tried to conceal his
rank, but his English valet betrayed the secret. He is said to be
connected with one of the oldest families in France, and to have
immense estates near Paris."
"The largest estates he possesses are in Whiskerando, if you ever
heard of that place. A French count! Preposterous!"
"I know it to be true," said Arabella, emphatically.
"How do you know it, Miss Confidence?"
"I know it from the fact that I hinted to him, delicately, my
knowledge of his rank abroad, and he did not deny it. His looks and
his manner betrayed what he was attempting to conceal."
"Arabella!" said Mr. Jones, with a good deal of sternness, "if you
were silly enough to hint to this fellow what you say you did, and
he was impostor enough not to deny it on the spot in the most
unequivocal terms, then he adds the character of a designing villain
to that of a senseless fop. In the name of homely American common
sense, can you not see, as plain as daylight, that he is no nearer
akin to a foreign nobleman than his barber or boot-black may be?"
Arabella was silenced because it was folly to contend in this matter
with her father, who was a blunt, common-sense, clear-seeing man;
but she was not in the least convinced Mr. De Courci was not a
French count for all he might say, and, what was better, evidently
saw attractions in her superior to those of which any of her fair
compeers could boast.
"My dear Miss Jones," said the count, when they next met, speaking
in that delightful foreign accent, so pleasant to the ear of the
young lady, and with the frankness peculiar to his nature, "I cannot
withhold from you the honest expression of my sentiments. It would
be unjust to myself, and unjust to you; for those sentiments too
nearly involve my own peace, and, it may be, yours."
The count hesitated, and looked interesting. Arabella blushed and
trembled. The words, "You will speak to my father," were on the
young lady's tongue. But she checked herself, and remained silent.
It would not do to make that reference of the subject.
Then came a gentle pressure of hair upon her cheek, and a gentle
pressure from the gloved hand in which her own was resting.
"My dear young lady, am I understood?" Arabella answered,
delicately, by returning the gentle pressure of her hand, and
leaning perceptibly nearer the Count De Courci.
"I am the happiest of men!" said the count, enthusiastically.
"And I the happiest of women," responded Arabella, not audibly, but
in spirit.
"Your father?" said De Courci. "Shall I see him?"
"It will not be well yet," replied the maiden, evincing a good deal
of confusion. "My father is"--
"Is what?" asked the nobleman, slightly elevating his person.
"Is a man of some peculiar notions. Is, in fact, too rigidly
American. He does not like"--
Arabella hesitated.
"Doesn't like foreigners. Ah! I comprehend," and the count shrugged
his shoulders and looked dignified; that is, as dignified as a man
whose face is covered with hair can look.
"I am sorry to say that he has unfounded prejudices against every
thing not vulgarly American."
"He will not consent, then?"
"I fear not, Mr. De Courci."
"Hum-m. Ah!" and the count thought for some moments. "Will not
consent. What then? Arabella!" and he warmed in his
manner--"Arabella, shall an unfounded prejudice interpose with its
icy barriers? Shall hearts that are ready to melt into one, be kept
apart by the mere word of a man? Forbid it, love! But suppose I go
to him?"
"It will be useless! He is as unbending as iron."
Such being the case, the count proposed an elopement, to which
Arabella agreed, after the expression of as much reluctance as
seemed to be called for. A few weeks subsequently, Mr. Jones
received a letter from some person unknown, advising him of the fact
that if at a certain hour on that evening he would go to a certain
place, he would intercept Mr. De Courci in the act of running away
with his daughter. This intelligence half maddened the father. He
hurried home, intending to confront Arabella with the letter he had
received, and then lock her up in her room. But she had gone out an
hour before. Pacing the floor in a state of strong excitement, he
awaited her return until the shadows of evening began to fall.
Darkness closed over all things, but still she was away, and it soon
became evident that she did not mean to come back.
It was arranged between De Courci and Arabella that he was to wait
for her with a carriage at a retired place in the suburbs, where she
was to join him. They were then to drive to a minister's, get the
marriage ceremony performed, and proceed thence to take possession
of an elegant suite of rooms which had been engaged in one of the
most fashionable hotels in the city. To escape all danger of
interference with her movements, the young lady had left home some
hours before evening, and spent the time between that and the
blissful period looked for with such trembling delight, in the
company of a young friend and confidante. Darkness at length threw a
veil over all things, and under cover of this veil Arabella went
forth alone, and hurried to the appointed place of meeting. A lamp
showed her the carriage in waiting, and a man pacing slowly the
pavement near by, while she was a considerable distance off. Her
heart beat wildly, the breath came heavily up from her bosom. She
quickened her pace, but soon stopped suddenly in alarm, for she saw
a man advancing rapidly from another quarter. It a few moments this
individual came up to the person who was walking before the
carriage, and whom she saw to be her lover. Loud words instantly
followed, and she was near enough to hear an angry voice say--
"Ill count you, you base scoundrel!"
It was the voice of her father! Fearful lest violence should be done
to her lover, Arabella screamed and flew to the spot. Already was
the hand of Mr. Jones at De Courci's throat, but the count in
disguise, not relishing the rough grasp of the indignant father,
disengaged himself and fled ingloriously, leaving poor Arabella to
the unbroken fury of his ire. Without much ceremony he thrust her
into the waiting carriage, and, giving the driver a few hurried
directions, entered himself. What passed between the disappointed
countess, that was to be, and her excited father, it is not our
business to relate.
Not content with having interrupted this nice little matrimonial
arrangement, Mr. Jones called at the hotel where De Courci put up,
early on the next morning. But the elegant foreigner had not
occupied his apartments during the night. He called a few hours
later, but he had not yet made his appearance; in the morning, but
De Courci was still away. On the next morning the following notice
appeared in one of the daily newspapers:--
"NIPPED IN THE BUD.--Fashionable people will remember a whiskered,
mustachioed fellow with a foreign accent, named De Courci, who has
been turning the heads of half the silly young girls in town for the
last two months. He permitted it to leak out, we believe, that he
was a French count, with immense estates near Paris, who had come to
this country in order to look for a wife. This was of course
believed, for there are people willing to credit the most improbable
stories in the world. Very soon a love affair came on, and he was
about running off with the silly daughter of a good substantial
citizen. By some means the father got wind of the matter, and
repaired to the appointed place of meeting just in time. He found De
Courci and a carriage in waiting. Without much ceremony, he laid
violent hands on the count, who thought it better to run than to
fight, and therefore fled ingloriously, just as the daughter arrived
on the ground. He has not been heard of since. We could write a
column by way of commentary upon this circumstance, but think that
the facts in the case speak so plainly for themselves, that not a
single remark is needed to give them force. We wish the lady joy at
her escape, for the count in disguise is no doubt a scheming villain
at heart."
Poor Arabella was dreadfully cut down when this notice met her eye.
It was a long time before she ventured into company again, and ever
after had a mortal aversion to mustaches and imperials. The count
never after made his appearance in Philadelphia.
The young man named Marston, who had jested with Abel Lee about the
loss of his lady-love, was seated in his room some ten minutes after
the sudden appearance of Mr. Jones at the place of meeting between
the lovers, when his door was thrown open, and in bounded De Courci,
hair and all! Cloak, hat, and hair were instantly thrown aside, and
a smooth, young, laughing face revealed itself from behind whiskers,
moustaches, imperials, and goatee.
"Where's the countess?" asked Marston, in a merry voice. "Did she
faint?"
"Dear knows. That sturdy old American father of hers got me by the
throat before I could say Jack Robinson, and I was glad to make off
with a whole skin. Arabella arrived at the moment, and gave a
glorious scream. Of any thing further, deponent sayeth not."
"She'll be cured of moustaches, or I'm no prophet."
"I guess she will. But the fact is, Marston," and the young man
looked serious, "I'm afraid this joke has been carried too far."
"Not at all. The moral effect will tell upon our silly young ladies,
whose heads are turned with a foreign accent and a hairy lip. You
acted the whiskered fop to a charm. No one could have dreamed that
all was counterfeit."
"So far as the general effect is concerned, I have no doubt; but I'm
afraid it was wrong to victimize Miss Arabella for the benefit of
the whole race of weak-minded girls. The effect upon her may be more
serious than we apprehend."
"No, I think not. The woman who could pass by as true a young man as
Abel Lee for a foreign count in disguise, hasn't heart enough to
receive a deep injury. She will be terribly mortified, but that will
do her good."
"If it turn out no worse than that, I shall be glad. But I must own,
now that the whole thing is over, that I am not as well satisfied
with myself as I thought I would be. I don't know what my good
sisters at the South would say, if they knew I had been engaged in
such a mad-cap affair. But I lay all the blame upon you. You, with
your cool head, ought to have known better than to start a young
hot-brained fellow like me, just let loose from college, upon such a
wild adventure. I'm afraid that if Jones had once got me fairly into
his clutches, he would have made daylight shine through me."
"Ha! ha! No doubt of it. But come, don't begin to look long-faced.
We will keep our own counsel, and no one need be the wiser for our
participation in this matter. Wait a while, and let us enjoy the
nine days' wonder that will follow."
But the young man, who was a relative of Marston, and who had come
to the city fresh from college, just in the nick of time for the
latter, felt, now that the excitement of his wild prank was over, a
great deal more sober about the matter than he had expected to feel.
Reason and reflection told him that he had no right to trifle with
any one as he had trifled with Arabella Jones. But it was too late
to mend the matter. No great harm, however, came of it; and perhaps,
good; for a year subsequently, Abel Lee conducted his old flame to
the altar, and she makes him a loving and faithful wife.