A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
Tournette, puts a spoke into your wheel, my fine fellow," he thought;
"no matter though your face did look as though hewn out of stone."
Aloud he said, "Miss Vernon will see he is donning the garb of modesty
in her honour."
"So Vernon is Mademoiselle's name," said his friend de Vesey; "I saw
her at the theatre the other night, and by the lilies of France, she
is lovely enough to make a man play the saint for one look from her
eyes."
There was a second or two of rather an awkward pause which Lady
Esmondet broke by saying--
"The bays are lovely, but I'd rather keep the woman at bay, Lionel; or
perhaps she thought you an acquaintance."
"Yes and no, _chere_ Lady Esmondet; a dozen years or so ago, I was
going through my stage fever, which most men take to in a natural sort
of way, though I scorn to make it any excuse for my folly; for you,
dear Lady Esmondet," he added with a weary sigh, "are aware I, above
all men, should have given way to no such weakness, it was not that it
bore any fascination for me, on the contrary, I was as one who never
lays his opera glass aside; but, Old Time was leaning on his staff
just then and everything went slow; so to make things more lively, I
was persuaded by some men to go in with them into a new scheme, viz.,
lease a theatre; the woman who has just past then, a handsome young
woman, was one of the actresses; I sold out at the close of one
season, since, going very occasionally I have seen this woman, _la_
Tournette, act a few times. She has severed her connection or rather
the management did with her some six or seven years ago. I know
nothing of her life now; she is _outree_ in style and presuming to bow
to me, especially in your company."
"Her bow was a feeler to find out where she is, in society, or out,"
said Lady Esmondet; "and," she continued, "we are to blame; we show
her every day that the mighty god society accepts gold."
CHAPTER XXI.
LA BELLE VERNON.
The suite of apartments at the de Hauteville mansion in which the
family received, were a scene of almost unrivalled splendour. The
host, Monsieur Henri Eau Clair de Hauteville, as he stood beside
Madame, receiving and welcoming their guests, being a very small and
very pale, quiet-mannered man, was almost lost beside the large,
handsome woman and merely bowed like a Chinese Mandarin, looking like
a tired school-boy, who wanted to be in bed and tucked in comfortably.
"Poor little man, how refreshing the summons to supper will be," said
Lady Esmondet, as they waited in the crush to go forward to the smile,
bow, and contact of finger tips.
"See how Madame stands it all," remarked Lionel. "It's astonishing
what vim gentle women can throw into fatiguing social demonstrations."
"The fragile creature knows society is large-eyed," said Vaura.
On our friends turning to leave the reception room, Eau Clair, the
eldest son of the house, for whom, he having attained his majority,
this entertainment was given in honour of, came towards them to
welcome his mother's old friend, and to tell Miss Vernon of how glad
he was at her return to Paris. (He had met Trevalyon before).
"I must congratulate you, my dear boy," said Lady Esmondet, "as well
upon your coming of age as upon the brilliancy of the ball."
"_Je vous remercie_, Lady Esmondet; _mais_," he added, "I have just
come from your Cambridge University, and shall speak in your tongue,
which I like well."
Here some old friends came up, and several gay dancing men, Everly
amongst them, and Vaura's programme was soon full. She tried to secure
a few dances for rest, by this means to give a few minutes to chat
with Lionel, but no one would allow it.
"Don't be cruel," said one.
"Your flower-face must go to the ball-room," said another.
"Take pity on us; we don't carry a bouquet," said a third.
"So we will that you are near," said another.
At last she was carried off by Eau Clair.
"How beautiful your ball-room is, Monsieur Eau Clair," said Vaura.
"What multitudes of flowers; how many green-houses have you laid bare?
There will not be one rose-bud in all Paris for the Marshal McMahon's
_fete_, but that will not grieve you, a Bonapartist."
"Of this I am sure, Mlle. Vernon, if I have left him any roses they
are not the sweetest, for well I know the beauteous butterfly of
to-day loves their sweet odour."
Dance succeeded dance, and all went merry as a marriage bell, to
divine music by two of the most perfect bands in Paris; and now Everly
claims his innings, and is happy.
"Have mercy on me, Sir Tilton," laughed Vaura, "and forgive me this
dance (besides, we have another together), and you don't know how
sweetly amiable I shall be, if you'll find me a seat beside Lady
Esmondet."
"Consider yourself seated, and your martyred subject not far off, fair
Mademoiselle."
They found Lady Esmondet with Mrs. Wingfield and Trevalyon in an ideal
refreshment room.
"Glad you've found us, _ma chere_," said Lady Esmondet.
"I need not ask how you are enjoying the ball," remarked Trevalyon,
"your eyes tell me."
"And they say true; how could it be otherwise Sir Knight? with music
that thrills one, and a light foot treading a measure to the sweet
notes," answered Vaura. "Is not this a charming room, Miss Vernon?
invisible music, birds and flowers; the Parisian is born for this kind
of thing."
"It is just a poem, Capt. Trevalyon."
"And Bob Fudge in the flesh, brings us back to reality," said Mrs.
Wingfield; and following the direction of her eyes, they saw a very
young man devouring with admiring glances, the delicacies around him.
"I am quite sure," laughed Vaura, "he will go through the bill of fare
just as Moore's Bob, of one _pate_ of larks, just to tune up the
throat; one's small limbs of chickens, done _en papillote_, one's
erudite cutlets dressed all ways but plain, &c. Oh, dear, he fatigues
one," she added gaily; "yes, an ice, Sir Tilton."
"Depend upon it," said Trevalyon laughing, "Dick will receive a letter
from Bob, that, 'there's nothing like feeding.'"
Here Eau Clair joined them, having missed Vaura from the ball-room.
"Have you seen the Claytons this evening, Vaura?" enquired Lady
Esmondet.
"Yes, god-mother mine, and dancing with vigour and a sublime
indifference to time that was amusing."
"They exchanged partners with another Quakerish looking couple, and
have been in the heat of the fight, ever since," said gay Mrs.
Wingfield.
"'Merrily danced the Quaker's wife, merrily danced the Quaker,'" sang
Vaura.
Here a Spanish noble came up, and with a courtly bow, reminded Vaura
that this was his waltz, and in animated chit-chat, they left the
room.
"A handsome couple," said Mrs. Wingfield; "and I noticed the Spaniard
has had two dances with _la belle_." News, not too utterly delightful
to Trevalyon and Sir Tilton.
"The Marquis admires Miss Vernon, so mother says; and no man can find
him at fault," said Eau Clair, rising, and leaving the little group.
"Would you, ladies, like to go to the ball-room?" asked Lionel,
anxious to be near Vaura.
"Thank you, yes," answered Lady Esmondet, divining his motive.
"And will you take pity on me, and a risk on my waltzing powers?"
asked Sir Tilton of Mrs. Wingfield.
"I would not risk anything so important as a waltz, Sir Tilton; but as
I have already tested your capabilities as a dancer away I go on your
protecting arms."
"Or into them," laughed her partner, as entering the ball-room they
went careering at full speed down the small spaces.
"Beg pardon, Lord Lisleville," cried Sir Tilton, as he dashed against
an ancient beau with a long rent-roll, who with his _fiancee_, a
pretty little French girl, who had been trying to put him out of step
in order to dance with her young Lochinvar. Sir Tilton, knowing the
circumstances, pitied the little Parisienne who had been dolefully
doing her duty all the evening; so determined to come to her aid,
hence the collision, which throwing the noble lord almost on his back,
sent his wig flying several yards off which the dancers swept with
their trains. The gay _petite_ was wicked enough to put her
handkerchief, not to her eyes, but to her mouth, to veil her smiles as
she gave herself up to her young lover who had been eating his heart
out all the evening. Lord Lisleville, with inward curses on Everly and
his own temerity in attempting to dance on a waxed floor, with his
gouty leg and bought curls, was a droll figure, as with his
handkerchief tied over his head and his face a whirlpool of wrath, he
was knocked hither and thither by the dancers in the vain attempt to
recover his gay tresses.
Vaura and her partner laughed heartily over the amusing scene.
"How innocent Sir Tilton looked, and one could see it was
intentional," laughed Vaura; "no more dinners at the ancestral home of
Lord Lisleville; no more shooting for the culprit," she continued.
"How happy the betrothed looks now," said Del Castello, "Cupid's bow
is powerful."
"I know myself," said Vaura, "of several cases where young girls have
been persuaded to marry old men from the fact being pointed out to
them of the happy marriage of M. Thiers. Madame Dosme, poor little
Emily's mother, was the woman born for him, only she, unfortunately,
was encumbered with a husband."
"It was a most singular household," said Del Castello. "Thiers, though
undoubtedly a superior man, had no claims to divinity or to be
enshrined on the Dosme altar with three adoring women ever
worshipping, while there are many men, could they gain one woman,
would be to her alone as constant as the sun. Pardon, Mlle., but I am
Spanish and cannot be cold with you. I ever think of Venus and my
breast is bare for Cupid's dart."
"The boy is blind," said Vaura, archly.
"I feel him an unerring marksman, though," he said passionately.
Here Sir Tilton, with Mrs. Wingfield, passed them, when Vaura called
out gaily:
"Don't you tremble, Sir Tilton, when you think of the wrath of the
wigless Adonis?"
"Like an aspen leaf, fair _belle_, but never mind, I've given him a
wigging."
They are now beside Lady Esmondet, and the strains of music changing
from the waltz,
"That means our waltz is over, Marquis Del Castello, and I have
enjoyed it thoroughly, thanks to your perfect step."
"Your own fairy step had much to do with making our waltz one I shall
never forget; may I call tomorrow?"
"You may."
Trevalyon coming up at the moment, and seeing Vaura in all her
lovliness, for lovely she was in cream white satin, sleeves merely a
band, neck low, a circlet of gold of delicate workmanship round the
throat, fastened in front with a diamond large as a hazel nut, bands
of gold in same design, on perfect arms midway between shoulder and
elbow; and the poor fellow hungered to have her all to himself for
even a few minutes, so with forced gaiety he said:
"Now, Mademoiselle, I, as your guardian, must insist on your taking a
little rest and under my protection, for, should I allow you to take
it with any other, the gay gallant would have the queen of the night
back amidst the revelry.
"But what am I to do, Lady Esmondet--Captain Trevalyon," she said with
a sweet sense of willingness about her; "I belong to M. de Vesey for
the next dance?"
"Go and rest," said Lady Esmondet; "and if your partner cannot find
you it will be his loss."
Lionel had roamed about a good deal during the evening thinking much
of a letter he had received that morning from Colonel Haughton, and of
the love he was battling against in his own breast, for Vaura. In his
walks to and fro he had come across a small conservatory on the other
side of the house, far from the busy throng, and entered as well from
the grounds as from a boudoir of Madame's; thither he led Vaura, not