Vanity Fair
take care of my honour? But I'm very much obliged to Emmy, very," Mrs.
Rawdon said.
"Pooh, jealousy!" answered George, "all women are jealous."
"And all men too. Weren't you jealous of General Tufto, and the
General of you, on the night of the Opera? Why, he was ready to eat me
for going with you to visit that foolish little wife of yours; as if I
care a pin for either of you," Crawley's wife said, with a pert toss of
her head. "Will you dine here? The dragon dines with the
Commander-in-Chief. Great news is stirring. They say the French have
crossed the frontier. We shall have a quiet dinner."
George accepted the invitation, although his wife was a little ailing.
They were now not quite six weeks married. Another woman was laughing
or sneering at her expense, and he not angry. He was not even angry
with himself, this good-natured fellow. It is a shame, he owned to
himself; but hang it, if a pretty woman WILL throw herself in your way,
why, what can a fellow do, you know? I AM rather free about women, he
had often said, smiling and nodding knowingly to Stubble and Spooney,
and other comrades of the mess-table; and they rather respected him
than otherwise for this prowess. Next to conquering in war, conquering
in love has been a source of pride, time out of mind, amongst men in
Vanity Fair, or how should schoolboys brag of their amours, or Don Juan
be popular?
So Mr. Osborne, having a firm conviction in his own mind that he was a
woman-killer and destined to conquer, did not run counter to his fate,
but yielded himself up to it quite complacently. And as Emmy did not
say much or plague him with her jealousy, but merely became unhappy and
pined over it miserably in secret, he chose to fancy that she was not
suspicious of what all his acquaintance were perfectly aware--namely,
that he was carrying on a desperate flirtation with Mrs. Crawley. He
rode with her whenever she was free. He pretended regimental business
to Amelia (by which falsehood she was not in the least deceived), and
consigning his wife to solitude or her brother's society, passed his
evenings in the Crawleys' company; losing money to the husband and
flattering himself that the wife was dying of love for him. It is very
likely that this worthy couple never absolutely conspired and agreed
together in so many words: the one to cajole the young gentleman,
whilst the other won his money at cards: but they understood each other
perfectly well, and Rawdon let Osborne come and go with entire good
humour.
George was so occupied with his new acquaintances that he and William
Dobbin were by no means so much together as formerly. George avoided
him in public and in the regiment, and, as we see, did not like those
sermons which his senior was disposed to inflict upon him. If some
parts of his conduct made Captain Dobbin exceedingly grave and cool; of
what use was it to tell George that, though his whiskers were large,
and his own opinion of his knowingness great, he was as green as a
schoolboy? that Rawdon was making a victim of him as he had done of
many before, and as soon as he had used him would fling him off with
scorn? He would not listen: and so, as Dobbin, upon those days when
he visited the Osborne house, seldom had the advantage of meeting his
old friend, much painful and unavailing talk between them was spared.
Our friend George was in the full career of the pleasures of Vanity
Fair.
There never was, since the days of Darius, such a brilliant train of
camp-followers as hung round the Duke of Wellington's army in the Low
Countries, in 1815; and led it dancing and feasting, as it were, up to
the very brink of battle. A certain ball which a noble Duchess gave at
Brussels on the 15th of June in the above-named year is historical.
All Brussels had been in a state of excitement about it, and I have
heard from ladies who were in that town at the period, that the talk
and interest of persons of their own sex regarding the ball was much
greater even than in respect of the enemy in their front. The
struggles, intrigues, and prayers to get tickets were such as only
English ladies will employ, in order to gain admission to the society
of the great of their own nation.
Jos and Mrs. O'Dowd, who were panting to be asked, strove in vain to
procure tickets; but others of our friends were more lucky. For
instance, through the interest of my Lord Bareacres, and as a set-off
for the dinner at the restaurateur's, George got a card for Captain and
Mrs. Osborne; which circumstance greatly elated him. Dobbin, who was a
friend of the General commanding the division in which their regiment
was, came laughing one day to Mrs. Osborne, and displayed a similar
invitation, which made Jos envious, and George wonder how the deuce he
should be getting into society. Mr. and Mrs. Rawdon, finally, were of
course invited; as became the friends of a General commanding a cavalry
brigade.
On the appointed night, George, having commanded new dresses and
ornaments of all sorts for Amelia, drove to the famous ball, where his
wife did not know a single soul. After looking about for Lady
Bareacres, who cut him, thinking the card was quite enough--and after
placing Amelia on a bench, he left her to her own cogitations there,
thinking, on his own part, that he had behaved very handsomely in
getting her new clothes, and bringing her to the ball, where she was
free to amuse herself as she liked. Her thoughts were not of the
pleasantest, and nobody except honest Dobbin came to disturb them.
Whilst her appearance was an utter failure (as her husband felt with a
sort of rage), Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's debut was, on the contrary, very
brilliant. She arrived very late. Her face was radiant; her dress
perfection. In the midst of the great persons assembled, and the
eye-glasses directed to her, Rebecca seemed to be as cool and collected
as when she used to marshal Miss Pinkerton's little girls to church.
Numbers of the men she knew already, and the dandies thronged round
her. As for the ladies, it was whispered among them that Rawdon had
run away with her from out of a convent, and that she was a relation of
the Montmorency family. She spoke French so perfectly that there might
be some truth in this report, and it was agreed that her manners were
fine, and her air distingue. Fifty would-be partners thronged round
her at once, and pressed to have the honour to dance with her. But she
said she was engaged, and only going to dance very little; and made her
way at once to the place where Emmy sate quite unnoticed, and dismally
unhappy. And so, to finish the poor child at once, Mrs. Rawdon ran and
greeted affectionately her dearest Amelia, and began forthwith to
patronise her. She found fault with her friend's dress, and her
hairdresser, and wondered how she could be so chaussee, and vowed that
she must send her corsetiere the next morning. She vowed that it was a
delightful ball; that there was everybody that every one knew, and only
a VERY few nobodies in the whole room. It is a fact, that in a
fortnight, and after three dinners in general society, this young woman
had got up the genteel jargon so well, that a native could not speak it
better; and it was only from her French being so good, that you could
know she was not a born woman of fashion.
George, who had left Emmy on her bench on entering the ball-room, very
soon found his way back when Rebecca was by her dear friend's side.
Becky was just lecturing Mrs. Osborne upon the follies which her
husband was committing. "For God's sake, stop him from gambling, my
dear," she said, "or he will ruin himself. He and Rawdon are playing at
cards every night, and you know he is very poor, and Rawdon will win
every shilling from him if he does not take care. Why don't you
prevent him, you little careless creature? Why don't you come to us of
an evening, instead of moping at home with that Captain Dobbin? I dare
say he is tres aimable; but how could one love a man with feet of such
size? Your husband's feet are darlings--Here he comes. Where have you
been, wretch? Here is Emmy crying her eyes out for you. Are you
coming to fetch me for the quadrille?" And she left her bouquet and
shawl by Amelia's side, and tripped off with George to dance. Women
only know how to wound so. There is a poison on the tips of their
little shafts, which stings a thousand times more than a man's blunter
weapon. Our poor Emmy, who had never hated, never sneered all her
life, was powerless in the hands of her remorseless little enemy.
George danced with Rebecca twice or thrice--how many times Amelia
scarcely knew. She sat quite unnoticed in her corner, except when
Rawdon came up with some words of clumsy conversation: and later in
the evening, when Captain Dobbin made so bold as to bring her
refreshments and sit beside her. He did not like to ask her why she
was so sad; but as a pretext for the tears which were filling in her
eyes, she told him that Mrs. Crawley had alarmed her by telling her
that George would go on playing.
"It is curious, when a man is bent upon play, by what clumsy rogues he
will allow himself to be cheated," Dobbin said; and Emmy said,
"Indeed." She was thinking of something else. It was not the loss of
the money that grieved her.
At last George came back for Rebecca's shawl and flowers. She was
going away. She did not even condescend to come back and say good-bye
to Amelia. The poor girl let her husband come and go without saying a
word, and her head fell on her breast. Dobbin had been called away,
and was whispering deep in conversation with the General of the
division, his friend, and had not seen this last parting. George went
away then with the bouquet; but when he gave it to the owner, there lay
a note, coiled like a snake among the flowers. Rebecca's eye caught it
at once. She had been used to deal with notes in early life. She put
out her hand and took the nosegay. He saw by her eyes as they met,
that she was aware what she should find there. Her husband hurried her
away, still too intent upon his own thoughts, seemingly, to take note
of any marks of recognition which might pass between his friend and his
wife. These were, however, but trifling. Rebecca gave George her hand
with one of her usual quick knowing glances, and made a curtsey and
walked away. George bowed over the hand, said nothing in reply to a
remark of Crawley's, did not hear it even, his brain was so throbbing
with triumph and excitement, and allowed them to go away without a word.
His wife saw the one part at least of the bouquet-scene. It was quite
natural that George should come at Rebecca's request to get her her
scarf and flowers: it was no more than he had done twenty times before
in the course of the last few days; but now it was too much for her.
"William," she said, suddenly clinging to Dobbin, who was near her,
"you've always been very kind to me--I'm--I'm not well. Take me home."
She did not know she called him by his Christian name, as George was
accustomed to do. He went away with her quickly. Her lodgings were
hard by; and they threaded through the crowd without, where everything
seemed to be more astir than even in the ball-room within.
George had been angry twice or thrice at finding his wife up on his
return from the parties which he frequented: so she went straight to
bed now; but although she did not sleep, and although the din and
clatter, and the galloping of horsemen were incessant, she never heard
any of these noises, having quite other disturbances to keep her awake.
Osborne meanwhile, wild with elation, went off to a play-table, and
began to bet frantically. He won repeatedly. "Everything succeeds with
me to-night," he said. But his luck at play even did not cure him of