"They are. I entirely acknowledge the fact!"
We sat down to table, and were waited upon by admirably-trained servants
who apparently had no idea of anything else but attendance on our needs.
There was no trace of bustle or excitement in the household,--no sign
whatever to denote that a great entertainment was about to take place
that day. It was not until the close of our meal that I asked Lucio what
time the musicians would arrive. He glanced at his watch.
"About noon I should say,"--he replied--"Perhaps before. But whatever
their hour, they will all be in their places at the proper moment,
depend upon it. The people I employ--both musicians and 'artistes'--know
their business thoroughly, and are aware that I stand no nonsense." A
rather sinister smile played round his mouth as he regarded me. "None of
your guests can arrive here till one o'clock,--as that is about the
time the special train will bring the first batch of them from
London,--and the first 'déjeuner' will be served in the gardens at two.
If you want to amuse yourself there's a Maypole being put up on the
large lawn,--you'd better go and look at it."
"A Maypole!" I exclaimed--"Now that's a good idea!"
"It used to be a good idea,"--he answered--"When English lads and lasses
had youth, innocence, health and fun in their composition, a dance round
the Maypole hand in hand, did them good and did nobody harm. But now
there are no lads and lasses,--enervated old men and women in their
teens walk the world wearily, speculating on the uses of life,--probing
vice, and sneering down sentiment, and such innocent diversions as the
Maypole no longer appeal to our jaded youth. So we have to get
'professionals' to execute the May-revels,--of course the dancing is
better done by properly trained legs; but it means nothing, and _is_
nothing, except a pretty spectacle."
"And are the dancers here?" I asked, rising and going towards the window
in some curiosity.
"No, not yet. But the May-pole is;--fully decorated. It faces the woods
at the back of the house,--go and see if you like it."
I followed his suggestion, and going in the direction indicated, I soon
perceived the gaily-decked object which used to be the welcome signal of
many a village holiday in Shakespeare's old-world England. The pole was
already set up and fixed in a deep socket in the ground, and a dozen or
more men were at work, unbinding its numerous trails of blossom and
garlands of green, tied with long streamers of vari-coloured ribbon. It
had a picturesque effect in the centre of the wide lawn bordered with
grand old trees,--and approaching one of the men, I said something to
him by way of approval and admiration. He glanced at me furtively and
unsmilingly, but said nothing,--and I concluded from his dark and
foreign cast of features, that he did not understand the English
language. I noted, with some wonder and slight vexation that all the
workmen were of this same alien and sinister type of countenance, very
much after the unattractive models of Amiel and the two grooms who had
my racer 'Phosphor' in charge. But I remembered what Lucio had told
me,--namely, that all the designs for the fête were carried out by
foreign experts and artists,--and after some puzzled consideration, I
let the matter pass from my mind.
The morning hours flew swiftly by, and I had little time to examine all
the festal preparations with which the gardens abounded,--so that I was
almost as ignorant of what was in store for the amusement of my guests
as the guests themselves. I had the curiosity to wait about and watch
for the coming of the musicians and dancers, but I might as well have
spared myself this waste of time and trouble, for I never saw them
arrive at all. At one o'clock, both Lucio and I were ready to receive
our company,--and at about twenty minutes past the hour, the first
instalment of 'swagger society' was emptied into the grounds. Sibyl and
her father were among these,--and I eagerly advanced to meet and greet
my bride-elect as she alighted from the carriage that had brought her
from the station. She looked supremely beautiful that day, and was, as
she deserved to be, the cynosure of all eyes. I kissed her little gloved
hand with a deeper reverence than I would have kissed the hand of a
queen.
"Welcome back to your old home, my Sibyl!" I said to her in a low voice
tenderly, at which words she paused, looking up at the red gables of the
house with such wistful affection as filled her eyes with something like
tears. She left her hand in mine, and allowed me to lead her towards the
silken-draped, flower-decked porch, where Lucio waited, smiling,--and as
she advanced, two tiny pages in pure white and silver glided suddenly
out of some unseen hiding-place, and emptied two baskets of pink and
white rose-leaves at her feet, thus strewing a fragrant pathway for her
into the house. They vanished as completely and swiftly as they had
appeared,--some of the guests uttered murmurs of admiration, while
Sibyl gazed about her, blushing with surprise and pleasure.
"How charming of you, Geoffrey!" she said, "What a poet you are to
devise so pretty a greeting!"
"I wish I deserved your praise!" I answered, smiling at her--"But the
poet in question is Prince Rimânez,--he is the master and ruler of
to-day's revels."
Again the rich colour flushed her cheeks, and she gave Lucio her hand.
He bowed over it in courtly fashion,--but did not kiss it as he had
kissed the hand of Mavis Clare. We passed into the house, through the
drawing-room, and out again into the gardens, Lord Elton being loud in
his praise of the artistic manner in which his former dwelling had been
improved and embellished. Soon the lawn was sprinkled with gaily attired
groups of people,--and my duties as host began in hard earnest. I had to
be greeted, complimented, flattered, and congratulated on my approaching
marriage by scores of hypocrites who nearly shook my hand off in their
enthusiasm for my wealth. Had I become suddenly poor, I thought grimly,
not one of them would have lent me a sovereign! The guests kept on
arriving in shoals, and when there were about three or four hundred
assembled, a burst of exquisite music sounded, and a procession of pages
in scarlet and gold, marching two by two appeared, carrying trays full
of the rarest flowers tied up in bouquets, which they offered to
all the ladies present. Exclamations of delight arose on every
side,--exclamations which were for the most part high-pitched and
noisy,--for the 'swagger set' have long ceased to cultivate softness of
voice or refinement of accent,--and once or twice the detestable slang
word, 'ripping' escaped from the lips of a few dashing dames, reputed to
be 'leaders' of style. Repose of manner, dignity and elegance of
deportment, however, are no longer to be discovered among the present
'racing' duchesses and gambling countesses of the bluest blue blood of
England, so one does not expect these graces of distinction from them.
The louder they can talk, and the more slang they can adopt from the
language of their grooms and stable-boys, the more are they judged to be
'in the swim' and 'up to date.' I speak, of course, of the modern scions
of aristocracy. There are a few truly 'great ladies' left, whose maxim
is still '_noblesse oblige_,'--but they are quite in the minority and by
the younger generation are voted either 'old cats' or 'bores.' Many of
the 'cultured' mob that now swarmed over my grounds had come out of the
sheerest vulgar curiosity to see what 'the man with five millions' could
do in the way of entertaining,--others were anxious to get news, if
possible, of the chances of 'Phosphor' winning the Derby, concerning
which I was discreetly silent. But the bulk of the crowd wandered
aimlessly about, staring impertinently or enviously at each other, and
scarcely looking at the natural loveliness of the gardens or the
woodland scenery around them. The brainlessness of modern society is
never so flagrantly manifested as at a garden-party, where the restless
trousered and petticoated bipeds move vaguely to and fro, scarcely
stopping to talk civilly or intelligently to one another for five
minutes, most of them hovering dubiously and awkwardly between the
refreshment-pavilion and the band-stand. In my domain they were deprived
of this latter harbour of refuge, for no musicians could be seen, though
music was heard,--beautiful wild music which came first from one part of
the grounds and then from another, and to which few listened with any
attention. All were, however, happily unanimous in their enthusiastic
appreciation of the excellence of the food provided for them in the
luxurious luncheon tents of which there were twenty in number. Men ate
as if they had never eaten in their lives before, and drank the choice
and exquisite wines with equal greed and gusto. One never entirely
realises the extent to which human gourmandism can go till one knows a
few peers, bishops and cabinet-ministers, and watches those dignitaries
feed _ad libitum_. Soon the company was so complete that there was no
longer any need for me to perform the fatiguing duty of 'receiving'; and
I therefore took Sibyl in to luncheon, determining to devote myself to
her for the rest of the day. She was in one of her brightest and most
captivating moods,--her laughter rang out as sweetly joyous as that of
some happy child,--she was even kind to Diana Chesney, who was also one
of my guests, and who was plainly enjoying herself with all the _verve_
peculiar to pretty American women, who consider flirtation as much of a
game as tennis. The scene was now one of great brilliancy, the light
costumes of the women contrasting well with the scarlet and gold
liveries of the seemingly innumerable servants that were now everywhere
in active attendance. And, constantly through the fluttering festive
crowd, from tent to tent, from table to table, and group to group, Lucio
moved,--his tall stately figure and handsome face always conspicuous
wherever he stood, his rich voice thrilling the air whenever he spoke.
His influence was irresistible, and gradually dominated the whole
assemblage,--he roused the dull, inspired the witty, encouraged the
timid, and brought all the conflicting elements of rival position,
character and opinion into one uniform whole, which was unconsciously
led by his will as easily as a multitude is led by a convincing orator.
I did not know it then, but I know now, that metaphorically speaking, he
had his foot on the neck of that 'society' mob, as though it were one
prostrate man;--that the sycophants, liars and hypocrites whose utmost
idea of good is wealth and luxurious living, bent to his secret power as
reeds bend to the wind,--and that he did with them all whatsoever he
chose,--as he does to this very day! God!--if the grinning, guzzling
sensual fools had only known what horrors were about them at the
feast!--what ghastly ministers to pleasurable appetite waited obediently
upon them!--what pallid terrors lurked behind the gorgeous show of
vanity and pride! But the veil was mercifully down,--and only to me has
it since been lifted!
Luncheon over, the singing of mirthful voices, tuned to a kind of
village roundelay, attracted the company, now fed to repletion, towards
the lawn at the back of the house, and cries of delight were raised as
the Maypole came into view, I myself joining in the universal applause,
for I had not expected to see anything half so picturesque and pretty.
The pole was surrounded by a double ring of small children,--children so
beautiful in face and dainty in form, that they might very well have
been taken for little fairies from some enchanted woodland. The boys
were clad as tiny foresters, in doublets of green, with pink caps on
their curly locks,--the girls were in white, with their hair flowing
loosely over their shoulders, and wreaths of May-blossom crowning their
brows. As soon as the guests appeared on the scene, these exquisite
little creatures commenced their dance, each one taking a trail of
blossom or a ribbon pendant from the May-pole, and weaving it with the
others into no end of beautiful and fantastic designs. I looked on, as
amazed and fascinated as anyone present, at the wonderful lightness and
ease with which these children tripped and ran;--their tiny twinkling
feet seemed scarcely to touch the turf,--their faces were so
lovely,--their eyes so bright, that it was a positive enchantment to
watch them. Each figure they executed was more intricate and effective
than the last, and the plaudits of the spectators grew more and more
enthusiastic, till presently came the _finale_, in which all the little
green foresters climbed up the pole and clung there, pelting the
white-robed maidens below with cowslip-balls, knots of roses, bunches of
violets, posies of buttercups, daisies and clover, which the
girl-children in their turn laughingly threw among the admiring guests.
The air grew thick with flowers, and heavy with perfume, and resounded
with song and laughter;--and Sibyl, standing at my side, clapped her
hands in an ecstasy.
"Oh, it is lovely--lovely!" she cried--"Is this the prince's idea?" Then
as I answered in the affirmative, she added, "Where, I wonder, did he
find such exquisitely pretty little children!"
As she spoke, Lucio himself advanced a step or two in front of the other
spectators and made a slight peremptory sign. The fairy-like foresters
and maidens, with extraordinary activity, all sprang away from the
May-pole, pulling down the garlands with them, and winding the flowers
and ribbons about themselves so that they looked as if they were all
tied together in one inextricable knot,--this done, they started off at
a rapid run, presenting the appearance of a rolling ball of blossom,
merry pipe-music accompanying their footsteps, till they had entirely
disappeared among the trees.
"Oh do call them back again!" entreated Sibyl, laying her hand coaxingly
on Lucio's arm,--"I should so like to speak to two or three of the
prettiest!"
He looked down at her with an enigmatical smile.
"You would do them too much honour, Lady Sibyl," he replied--"They are
not accustomed to such condescension from great ladies and would not
appreciate it. They are paid professionals, and, like many of their
class, only become insolent when praised."
At that moment Diana Chesney came running across the lawn, breathless.
"I can't see them anywhere!" she declared pantingly--"The dear little
darlings! I ran after them as fast as I could; I wanted to kiss one of
those perfectly scrumptious boys, but they're gone!--not a trace of them
left! It's just as if they had sunk into the ground!"
Again Lucio smiled.
"They have their orders,--" he said curtly--"And they know their place."
Just then, the sun was obscured by a passing black cloud, and a peal of
thunder rumbled over-head. Looks were turned to the sky, but it was
quite bright and placid save for that one floating shadow of storm.
"Only summer thunder,"--said one of the guests--"There will be no rain."
And the crowd that had been pressed together to watch the 'Maypole
dance' began to break up in groups, and speculate as to what diversion
might next be provided for them. I, watching my opportunity, drew Sibyl
away.
"Come down by the river;"--I whispered--"I must have you to myself for a
few minutes." She yielded to my suggestion, and we walked away from the
mob of our acquaintance, and entered a grove of trees leading to the
banks of that part of the Avon which flowed through my grounds. Here we
found ourselves quite alone, and putting my arm round my betrothed, I
kissed her tenderly.
"Tell me," I said with a half-smile--"Do you know how to love yet?"
She looked up with a passionate darkness in her eyes that startled me.
"Yes,--I know!" was her unexpected answer.
"You do!" and I stopped to gaze intently into her fair face--"And how
did you learn?"
She flushed red,--then grew pale,--and clung to me with a nervous,
almost feverish force.
"Very strangely!" she replied--"And--quite suddenly! The lesson was
easy, I found;--too easy! Geoffrey,"--she paused, and fixed her eyes
full on mine--"I will tell you how I learnt it, ... but not now, ...
some other day." Here she broke off, and began to laugh rather forcedly.
"I will tell you ... when we are married." She glanced anxiously about
her,--then, with a sudden abandonment of her usual reserve and pride,
threw herself into my arms and kissed my lips with such ardour as made
my senses reel.
"Sibyl--Sibyl!" I murmured, holding her close to my heart----"Oh my
darling,--you love me!--at last you love me!"
"Hush!--hush!" she said breathlessly--"You must forget that kiss,----it
was too bold of me--it was wrong--I did not mean it, ... I, ... I was
thinking of something else. Geoffrey!"--and her small hand clenched on
mine with a sort of eager fierceness--"I wish I had never learned to
love; I was happier before I knew!"
A frown knitted her brows.
"Now"--she went on in the same breathless hurried way--"I _want_ love!
I am starving, thirsting for it! I want to be drowned in it, lost in it,
killed by it! Nothing else will content me!"