The Daltons Volume I Part 36

"Come, come, do, I beseech you, be good friends," interposed Jekyl. "We have met for other objects than to exchange reproaches."

"These are but the 'iras amantium.' boy," said the priest; "the girl loves me with her whole heart."

"How you read my most secret thoughts!" said she, with a coquettish affectation of sincerity.

"Lectiones pravissimae would they be!" muttered he, between his teeth.

"What is that? What is he mumbling there, Albert?" cried she, hastily.

"It is a benediction, Nina," replied Jekyl; "did you not hear the Latin?"

Peace was at last restored, and what between the adroit devices of Jekyl and the goodness of his champagne, a feeling of pleasant sociality now succeeded to all the bickering in which the festivity was prolonged to a late hour. The graver business which brought them together the Onslows and their affairs being discussed, they gave way to all the seductions of their exalted fancies. Jekyl, taking up his guitar, warbled out a French love song, in a little treble a bullfinch might have envied; Nina, with the aid of the padre's beads for castanets, stepped the measure of a bolero; while the old priest himself broke out into a long chant, in which Ovid, Petrarch, Anacreon, and his breviary alternately figured, and under the influence of which he fell fast asleep at last, totally unconscious of the corked moustaches and eyebrows with which Nina ornamented his reverend countenance.

The sound of wheels in the silent street at last admonished them of the hour, and opening the window, Jekyl saw a brougham belonging to Sir Stafford just drawing up at the door.

"Francois is punctual," said Nina, looking at her watch; "I told him five o'clock."

"Had we not better set him down first?" said Jekyl, with a gesture toward the priest; "he does not live far away."

"With all my heart," replied she; "but you're not going to wash his face?"

"Of course I am, Nina. The jest might cost us far more than it was worth." And so saying, Jekyl proceeded to arrange the disordered dress and dishevelled hair of the padre, during the performance of which the old priest recovered sufficient consciousness to permit himself to be led downstairs and deposited in the carriage.

An hour later and all was still! Jekyl slumbering peacefully on his little French bed, over which the rose-colored mosquito curtains threw a softened half-sunset hue; a gentle smile parted his lips, as in his dreams the dreams of a happy and contented nature he wove pleasant fancies and devised many a future scheme.

In his own dreary little den, behind the "Duomo," the padre also slept heavily, not a thought, not a single pa.s.sing idea breaking the stagnant surface of his deep lethargy.

Nina, however, was wakeful, and had no mind for repose. Her brilliant costume carefully laid aside, she was arranging her dark hair into its habitually modest braid; her very features composing themselves, as she did so, into their wonted aspect of gentleness and submission.

All the change of dress being little in comparison with the complete alteration now observable in her whole air and demeanor, she seemed a totally different being. And she was so, too; for while hypocrites to the world, we completely forget that we share in the deception ourselves.

CHAPTER XXIV. A MIDNIGHT RECEPTION

IT was past midnight, the Opera was just over, and the few privileged guests who were permitted to pay their visits to Lady Hester Onslow were a.s.sembled in the little drawing-room and boudoir sacred to these exclusive receptions. Nothing could be in stronger contrast than the gorgeous splendor of the apartment and the half-dressed, careless, lounging ease of the men as they stretched themselves on the ottomans, lounged on the sofas, or puffed their cigars, alike indifferent to the place and the presence of two ladies who, dressed in the very perfection of "toilette," did the honors of the reception.

Lady Hester, who wore a small embroidered velvet cap, coquettishly set on one side of the head, and a species of velvet jacket, such as is common in Greece, lay upon a sofa beneath a canopy of pink silk covered with lace; a most splendidly ornamented hooka, the emerald mouthpiece of which she held in her hand, stood on a little cus.h.i.+on beside her; while grouped around in every att.i.tude that taste and caprice suggested on chairs, on cus.h.i.+ons, squabs, "Prie-Dieu" and other drawing-room devices of a like nature were some half-dozen men, whose air and bearing p.r.o.nounced them long habituated to all the usages of society. One stamp of feature and style pervaded all; pale, dark-eyed, black-bearded, and weary-looking, they seemed as though they were tired of a life of dissipation, and yet utterly incapable of engaging in any other.

All born to high rank, some to large fortune, they found that no other career was open to them except vice in one shape or other. The policy of their rulers had excluded them from every road of honorable ambition; neither as statesmen nor soldiers could they hope to win fame or glory.

Their habits of life and the tone of society gave no impulse to the cultivation of science or literature. The topics discussed in their circle never by chance adverted to a book; and there they were, with heads whose development indicated all that was intellectual, with brows and foreheads that betokened every gift of mental excellence, wearing away life in the dullest imaginable routine of dissipation, their minds neglected, their hearts corrupted, enervated in body, and deprived of all energy of character; they wore, even in youth, the exhausted look of age, and bore in every lineament of their features the type of la.s.situde and discontent.

In the adjoining room sat Kate Dalton at a tea-table. She was costumed for we cannot use any milder word in a species of "moyen-age" dress, whose length of stomacher and deep-hanging sleeves recalled the portraits of t.i.tian's time; a small cap covered the back of her head, through an aperture in which the hair appeared, its rich auburn ma.s.ses fastened by a short stiletto of gold, whose hilt and handle were studded with precious stones; a ma.s.sive gold chain, with a heavy cross of the same metal, was the only ornament she wore. Widely different as was the dress from that humble guise in which the reader first knew her, the internal change was even greater still; no longer the bashful, blus.h.i.+ng girl, beaming with all the delight of a happy nature, credulous, light-hearted, and buoyant, she was now composed in feature, calm, and gentle-mannered; the placid smile that moved her lips, the graceful motion of her head, her slightest gestures, her least words, all displaying a polished ease and elegance which made even her beauty and attraction secondary to the fascination of her manner. It is true the generous frankness of her beaming eyes was gone; she no longer met you with a look of full and fearless confidence: the cordial warmth, the fresh and buoyant sallies of her ready wit, had departed, and in their place was a timid reserve, a cautious, shrinking delicacy, blended with a quiet but watchful spirit of repartee, that flattered by the very degree of attention it betokened.

Perhaps our reader will not feel pleased with us for saying that she was more beautiful now than before; that intercourse with the world, dress, manners, the tact of society, the stimulus of admiration, the a.s.sured sense of her own charms, however they may have detracted from the moral purity of her nature, had yet invested her appearance with higher and more striking fascinations. Her walk, her courtesy, the pa.s.sing motion of her hand, her att.i.tude as she sat, were perfect studies of grace.

Not a trace was left of her former manner; all was ease, pliancy, and elegance. Two persons were seated near her: one of these, our old acquaintance, George Onslow; the other was a dark, sallow-visaged man, whose age might have been anything from thirty-five to sixty, for, while his features were marked by the hard lines of time, his figure had all the semblance of youth. By a broad blue ribbon round his neck he wore the decoration of Saint Nicholas, and the breast of his coat was covered with stars, crosses, and orders of half the courts of Europe. This was Prince Midchekoff, whose grandfather, having taken an active part in the a.s.sa.s.sination of the Emperor Paul, had never been reconciled to the Imperial family, and was permitted to reside in a kind of honorable banishment out of Russia; a punishment which he bore up under, it was said, with admirable fort.i.tude. His fortune was reputed to be immense, and there was scarcely a capital of Europe in which he did not possess a residence. The character of his face was peculiar, for while the forehead and eyes were intellectual and candid, the lower jaw and mouth revealed his Calmuck origin, an expression of intense, unrelenting cruelty being the impression at once conveyed by the thin, straight, compressed lips, and the long, projecting chin, seeming even longer from the black-pointed beard he wore. There was nothing vulgar or common-place about him; he never could have pa.s.sed un.o.bserved anywhere, and yet he was equally far from the type of high birth. His manners were perfectly well bred; and although he spoke seldom, his quiet and attentive air and his easy smile showed he possessed the still rarer quality of listening well.

There was another figure, not exactly of this group, but at a little distance off, beside a table in a recess, on which a number of prints and drawings were scattered, and in the contemplation of which he affected to be absorbed; while, from time to time, his dark eyes flashed rapidly across to note all that went forward. He was a tall and singularly handsome man, in the dress of a priest. His hair, black and waving, covered a forehead high, ma.s.sive, and well developed; his eyes were deep-set, and around the orbits ran lines that told of long and hard study, for the Abbe D'Esmonde was a distinguished scholar; and, as a means of withdrawing him for a season from the overtoil of reading, he had been attached temporarily as a species of Under-secretary to the Mission of the "Nonce." In this guise he was admitted into all the society of the capital, where his polished address and gentle manner soon made him a general favorite.

Equally removed from the flippant levity of the abbe as a cla.s.s, and the gross and sensual coa.r.s.eness of the "old priest," D'Esmonde was a perfect man of the world, so far as taking a lively interest in all the great events of politics, watching eagerly the changeful features of the times, and studying acutely the characters of the leading men, at whose dictates they were modified. Its pleasures and amus.e.m.e.nts, too, he was willing to partake of moderately and un.o.btrusively; but he held himself far apart from all those subjects of gossip and small-talk which, in a society of lax morality, occupy so considerable a s.p.a.ce, and in which the great dignitaries who wear scarlet and purple stockings are often seen to take a lively and animated share. Some ascribed this reserve to principle; others called it hypocrisy; and some, again, perhaps with more truth, deemed it the settled line of action of one who already destined himself for a high and conspicuous station, and had determined that his character should add weight and dignity to his talents.

It might have been thought that he was a singular guest to have been admitted to receptions like the present; but Jekyl, who managed everything, had invited him, on the principle, as he said, that a gourmand has a decanter of water always beside him at dinner, "not to drink, but because it looks temperate." The abbe's presence had the same effect; and, certainly, his calm and dignified demeanor, his polished address, and cultivated tone, were excellent certificates of good character for the rest.

At the tea-table the conversation languished, or only went forward at intervals. Onslow's French was not fluent, and he was silent from shame. Kate felt that she ought not to take the lead; and the Prince, habitually reserved, spoke very little, and even that in the discursive, unconnected tone of a man who was always accustomed to find that any topic he started should be instantly adopted by the company.

The cold and steady stare with which he surveyed her would, but a short time back, have covered her face with a blush; she could not have borne unabashed the glance of searching, almost insolent meaning he bestowed upon her; but now, whatever her heart might have felt, her features were calm and pa.s.sionless; nor did she in the slightest degree show any consciousness of a manner that was costing Onslow a struggle whether to laugh at or resent.

In one sense these two men were rivals, but each so impressed with proud contempt for the other, their rivalry was unknown to both. Kate, however, with her woman's tact, saw this, and knew well how her least smile or slightest word inclined the balance to this side or to that.

The Prince was inveighing against the habit of wintering in Italy as one of the most capital blunders of the age.

"We forget," said he, "that, in our present civilization, art is always first and nature second, as we see evidenced in all the results of agriculture. It is not the most fertile soil, but the highest-labored one which produces the best fruits. So with respect to climate, we never bear in mind that, where nature does most, man always does least."

"According to that rule, Prince, we should winter at St. Petersburg, and spend the dog-days at Calcutta," said Kate, smiling.

"So we should," replied he; "the appliances to resist heat or cold, of man's invention, are far better adapted to enjoyment than the accidental variations of climate."

"In my country," said Onslow, tartly, "men study less how to avoid the inclemencies of weather than to become indifferent to them. Hunting, shooting, and deer-stalking are very sure methods to acquire this."

The Prince paid no attention to the remark, but turned the conversation into another channel, by asking Kate if she had ever read Fourier's book. From this he wandered away to the characteristic differences of national music, thence to the discoveries then making in Central America, and lastly, engaged her in an animated discussion of the question of slavery. On none of these points was he deeply or even well informed, but he possessed that fluency and facility which intercourse with society confers; and as all his knowledge was derived from men, and not from books, it bore a certain stamp of originality about it that secured attention. Not, indeed, from George Onslow; he was the most bored of men. None of the topics were his topics. Of Tattersall's, the Guards' Club, the society of London, the odds on the "Derby," he could have discoursed well and pleasantly. From what was "wrong" with the Sa'nbucca filly to what was not right with Lady Flutterton's niece, he could have told you everything; but all these other themes were, in his estimation, but sheer pedantry, and, indeed, they only lacked a little knowledge a very little would have sufficed to be so.

"He is gone," said the Prince, with a caustic smile which revealed a plan; "gone at last."

"So, then, this was a device of yours, Prince," said she, laughing. "I really must call my cousin back and tell him so."

"No, no," said he, seriously. "I have won my battle, let me profit by my victory. Let me speak to you on another subject." He drew his chair a little nearer to the table as he spoke, and laid his arm on it. Kate's heart beat fast and full; and the color came and went rapidly in her cheek. A vague sense of fear, of shame, and of triumphant pride were all at conflict within her. There was but one theme in the world that could have warranted such a commencement, so serious, so grave, so purpose-like. Was this, then, possible?

The glittering stars all a blaze of brilliants that shone beside her seemed an emblem of that high state which was now within her reach; and what a torrent of varied emotions rushed through her heart! Of home, of her father, of Nelly, of Frank; and, lastly, what thoughts of George, poor George, whom she knew loved her, and to whom, without loving, she was not altogether indifferent. "Do not be agitated, Mademoiselle," said the prince, laying the slightest touch of his jewelled fingers on her arm. "I ask a little patience and a little calm consideration for what I am about to say."

"Is that really like an Irish peasant's cottage, Miss Daiton?" said the abbe, as he held before her a drawing of one, in all the details of its most striking misery.

"Yes, perfectly; not exaggerated in the least," said she, hurriedly blus.h.i.+ng alike at the surprise and the interruption.

"You have no such misery, Monsieur le Prince, in Russia, I believe?"

remarked the priest, with a courteous bend of the head.

"We are well governed, sir; and nothing displays it more palpably than that no man forgets his station," said the prince, with an insolent hauteur that made Kate blush over neck and forehead, while D'Esmonde stood calm and pa.s.sionless under the sarcasm.

"So I have always heard, sir," said he, blandly. "I remember, when at Wredna--"

"You have been at Wredna?" asked the Prince, in an altered voice.

But the other, not heeding the interruption, went on:

"I remember, when at Wredna, to have heard an anecdote which strikingly ill.u.s.trates the rigid obedience yielded to power, and the condition of public opinion at the same time. A manumitted slave, who was raised to high rank and wealth by the favor of the Czar, had returned to Wredna in the capacity of governor. A short time after his arrival he was tormented by applications and letters from a woman in great poverty who a.s.serted that she was his mother. Fedeorovna, of course in secret, proved the truth of her a.s.sertion; but the only answer she received was a significant caution to be silent, and not appeal to a relations.h.i.+p which could only prove offensive. Perhaps incredulous of the authentic character of so cruel a reply, perhaps stung to angry indignation by it, she carried the humble basket of fruit and vegetables that she hawked for a livelihood before the door of the great mansion where her son resided; but, instead of advertising her wares, as is customary in these Muscovite markets, by some picture of a saint or some holy inscription, she carried a little placard, with the inscription, 'The Mother of Alexovitch,' the name of the Governor. A crowd soon gathered around this singular booth, heralded by so strange an announcement, and as speedily the police resorted to the spot, and carried the offender before the judge. The defence was the simple one that she had merely averred the truth. I need not weary you with the mockery of investigation that followed; the result is all I need tell. This woman was knouted and sent away to Siberia. So much for the Governor. As for the governed, they were enthusiastic in praise of his justice and clemency; for he might have ordered her to be beheaded."

"Do you tell the story as a fact, sir?" said the Prince, whose dark cheek became almost green in its sallowness as he spoke.