Villette

  CHAPTER XX.

  THE CONCERT.

  One morning, Mrs. Bretton, coming promptly into my room, desired me toopen my drawers and show her my dresses; which I did, without a word.

  "That will do," said she, when she had turned them over. "You must havea new one."

  She went out. She returned presently with a dressmaker. She had memeasured. "I mean," said she, "to follow my own taste, and to have myown way in this little matter."

  Two days after came home--a pink dress!

  "That is not for me," I said, hurriedly, feeling that I would almost assoon clothe myself in the costume of a Chinese lady of rank.

  "We shall see whether it is for you or not," rejoined my godmother,adding with her resistless decision: "Mark my words. You will wear itthis very evening."

  I thought I should not; I thought no human force should avail to put meinto it. A pink dress! I knew it not. It knew not me. I had not provedit.

  My godmother went on to decree that I was to go with her and Graham toa concert that same night: which concert, she explained, was a grandaffair to be held in the large salle, or hall, of the principal musicalsociety. The most advanced of the pupils of the Conservatoire were toperform: it was to be followed by a lottery "au benefice des pauvres;"and to crown all, the King, Queen, and Prince of Labassecour were to bepresent. Graham, in sending tickets, had enjoined attention to costumeas a compliment due to royalty: he also recommended punctual readinessby seven o'clock.

  About six, I was ushered upstairs. Without any force at all, I foundmyself led and influenced by another's will, unconsulted, unpersuaded,quietly overruled. In short, the pink dress went on, softened by somedrapery of black lace. I was pronounced to be en grande tenue, andrequested to look in the glass. I did so with some fear and trembling;with more fear and trembling, I turned away. Seven o'clock struck; Dr.Bretton was come; my godmother and I went down. _She_ was clad in brownvelvet; as I walked in her shadow, how I envied her those folds ofgrave, dark majesty! Graham stood in the drawing-room doorway.

  "I _do_ hope he will not think I have been decking myself out to drawattention," was my uneasy aspiration.

  "Here, Lucy, are some flowers," said he, giving me a bouquet. He tookno further notice of my dress than was conveyed in a kind smile andsatisfied nod, which calmed at once my sense of shame and fear ofridicule. For the rest; the dress was made with extreme simplicity,guiltless of flounce or furbelow; it was but the light fabric andbright tint which scared me, and since Graham found in it nothingabsurd, my own eye consented soon to become reconciled.

  I suppose people who go every night to places of public amusement, canhardly enter into the fresh gala feeling with which an opera or aconcert is enjoyed by those for whom it is a rarity: I am not sure thatI expected great pleasure from the concert, having but a very vaguenotion of its nature, but I liked the drive there well. The snugcomfort of the close carriage on a cold though fine night, the pleasureof setting out with companions so cheerful and friendly, the sight ofthe stars glinting fitfully through the trees as we rolled along theavenue; then the freer burst of the night-sky when we issued forth tothe open chaussee, the passage through the city gates, the lights thereburning, the guards there posted, the pretence of inspection, to whichwe there submitted, and which amused us so much--all these smallmatters had for me, in their novelty, a peculiarly exhilarating charm.How much of it lay in the atmosphere of friendship diffused about me, Iknow not: Dr. John and his mother were both in their finest mood,contending animatedly with each other the whole way, and as franklykind to me as if I had been of their kin.

  Our way lay through some of the best streets of Villette, streetsbrightly lit, and far more lively now than at high noon. How brilliantseemed the shops! How glad, gay, and abundant flowed the tide of lifealong the broad pavement! While I looked, the thought of the RueFossette came across me--of the walled-in garden and school-house, andof the dark, vast "classes," where, as at this very hour, it was mywont to wander all solitary, gazing at the stars through the high,blindless windows, and listening to the distant voice of the reader inthe refectory, monotonously exercised upon the "lecture pieuse." Thusmust I soon again listen and wander; and this shadow of the futurestole with timely sobriety across the radiant present.

  By this time we had got into a current of carriages all tending in onedirection, and soon the front of a great illuminated building blazedbefore us. Of what I should see within this building, I had, as beforeintimated, but an imperfect idea; for no place of public entertainmenthad it ever been my lot to enter yet.

  We alighted under a portico where there was a great bustle and a greatcrowd, but I do not distinctly remember further details, until I foundmyself mounting a majestic staircase wide and easy of ascent, deeplyand softly carpeted with crimson, leading up to great doors closedsolemnly, and whose panels were also crimson-clothed.

  I hardly noticed by what magic these doors were made to roll back--Dr.John managed these points; roll back they did, however, and within wasdisclosed a hall--grand, wide, and high, whose sweeping circular walls,and domed hollow ceiling, seemed to me all dead gold (thus with niceart was it stained), relieved by cornicing, fluting, and garlandry,either bright, like gold burnished, or snow-white, like alabaster, orwhite and gold mingled in wreaths of gilded leaves and spotless lilies:wherever drapery hung, wherever carpets were spread, or cushionsplaced, the sole colour employed was deep crimson. Pendent from thedome, flamed a mass that dazzled me--a mass, I thought, ofrock-crystal, sparkling with facets, streaming with drops, ablaze withstars, and gorgeously tinged with dews of gems dissolved, or fragmentsof rainbows shivered. It was only the chandelier, reader, but for me itseemed the work of eastern genii: I almost looked to see if a huge,dark, cloudy hand--that of the Slave of the Lamp--were not hovering inthe lustrous and perfumed atmosphere of the cupola, guarding itswondrous treasure.

  We moved on--I was not at all conscious whither--but at some turn wesuddenly encountered another party approaching from the oppositedirection. I just now see that group, as it flashed--upon me for onemoment. A handsome middle-aged lady in dark velvet; a gentleman whomight be her son--the best face, the finest figure, I thought, I hadever seen; a third person in a pink dress and black lace mantle.

  I noted them all--the third person as well as the other two--and forthe fraction of a moment believed them all strangers, thus receiving animpartial impression of their appearance. But the impression was hardlyfelt and not fixed, before the consciousness that I faced a greatmirror, filling a compartment between two pillars, dispelled it: theparty was our own party. Thus for the first, and perhaps only time inmy life, I enjoyed the "giftie" of seeing myself as others see me. Noneed to dwell on the result. It brought a jar of discord, a pang ofregret; it was not flattering, yet, after all, I ought to be thankful;it might have been worse.

  At last, we were seated in places commanding a good general view ofthat vast and dazzling, but warm and cheerful hall. Already it wasfilled, and filled with a splendid assemblage. I do not know that thewomen were very beautiful, but their dresses were so perfect; andforeigners, even such as are ungraceful in domestic privacy, seem toposses the art of appearing graceful in public: however blunt andboisterous those every-day and home movements connected with peignoirand papillotes, there is a slide, a bend, a carriage of the head andarms, a mien of the mouth and eyes, kept nicely in reserve for galause--always brought out with the grande toilette, and duly put on withthe "parure."

  Some fine forms there were here and there, models of a peculiar styleof beauty; a style, I think, never seen in England; a solid, firm-set,sculptural style. These shapes have no angles: a caryatid in marble isalmost as flexible; a Phidian goddess is not more perfect in a certainstill and stately sort. They have such features as the Dutch paintersgive to their madonnas: low-country classic features, regular butround, straight but stolid; and for their depth of expressionless calm,of passionless peace, a polar snow-field could alone offer a type.Women of this order need no ornament, and the
y seldom wear any; thesmooth hair, closely braided, supplies a sufficient contrast to thesmoother cheek and brow; the dress cannot be too simple; the roundedarm and perfect neck require neither bracelet nor chain.

  With one of these beauties I once had the honour and rapture to beperfectly acquainted: the inert force of the deep, settled love shebore herself, was wonderful; it could only be surpassed by her proudimpotency to care for any other living thing. Of blood, her cool veinsconducted no flow; placid lymph filled and almost obstructed herarteries.

  Such a Juno as I have described sat full in our view--a sort of markfor all eyes, and quite conscious that so she was, but proof to themagnetic influence of gaze or glance: cold, rounded, blonde, andbeauteous as the white column, capitalled with gilding, which rose ather side.

  Observing that Dr. John's attention was much drawn towards her, Ientreated him in a low voice "for the love of heaven to shield well hisheart. You need not fall in love with _that_ lady," I said, "because, Itell you beforehand, you might die at her feet, and she would not loveyou again."

  "Very well," said he, "and how do you know that the spectacle of hergrand insensibility might not with me be the strongest stimulus tohomage? The sting of desperation is, I think, a wonderful irritant tomy emotions: but" (shrugging his shoulders) "you know nothing aboutthese things; I'll address myself to my mother. Mamma, I'm in adangerous way."

  "As if that interested me!" said Mrs. Bretton.

  "Alas! the cruelty of my lot!" responded her son. "Never man had a moreunsentimental mother than mine: she never seems to think that such acalamity can befall her as a daughter-in-law."

  "If I don't, it is not for want of having that same calamity held overmy head: you have threatened me with it for the last ten years. 'Mamma,I am going to be married soon!' was the cry before you were well out ofjackets."

  "But, mother, one of these days it will be realized. All of a sudden,when you think you are most secure, I shall go forth like Jacob orEsau, or any other patriarch, and take me a wife: perhaps of thesewhich are of the daughters of the land."

  "At your peril, John Graham! that is all."

  "This mother of mine means me to be an old bachelor. What a jealous oldlady it is! But now just look at that splendid creature in the paleblue satin dress, and hair of paler brown, with 'reflets satines' asthose of her robe. Would you not feel proud, mamma, if I were to bringthat goddess home some day, and introduce her to you as Mrs. Bretton,junior?"

  "You will bring no goddess to La Terrasse: that little chateau will notcontain two mistresses; especially if the second be of the height,bulk, and circumference of that mighty doll in wood and wax, and kidand satin."

  "Mamma, she would fill your blue chair so admirably!"

  "Fill my chair? I defy the foreign usurper! a rueful chair should it befor her: but hush, John Graham! Hold your tongue, and use your eyes."

  During the above skirmish, the hall, which, I had thought, seemed fullat the entrance, continued to admit party after party, until thesemicircle before the stage presented one dense mass of heads, slopingfrom floor to ceiling. The stage, too, or rather the wide temporaryplatform, larger than any stage, desert half an hour since, was nowoverflowing with life; round two grand pianos, placed about the centre,a white flock of young girls, the pupils of the Conservatoire, hadnoiselessly poured. I had noticed their gathering, while Graham and hismother were engaged in discussing the belle in blue satin, and hadwatched with interest the process of arraying and marshalling them. Twogentlemen, in each of whom I recognised an acquaintance, officered thisvirgin troop. One, an artistic-looking man, bearded, and with longhair, was a noted pianiste, and also the first music-teacher inVillette; he attended twice a week at Madame Beck's pensionnat, to givelessons to the few pupils whose parents were rich enough to allow theirdaughters the privilege of his instructions; his name was M. JosefEmanuel, and he was half-brother to M. Paul: which potent personage wasnow visible in the person of the second gentleman.

  M. Paul amused me; I smiled to myself as I watched him, he seemed sothoroughly in his element--standing conspicuous in presence of a wideand grand assemblage, arranging, restraining, over-aweing about onehundred young ladies. He was, too, so perfectly in earnest--soenergetic, so intent, and, above all, so absolute: and yet whatbusiness had he there? What had he to do with music or theConservatoire--he who could hardly distinguish one note from another? Iknew that it was his love of display and authority which had broughthim there--a love not offensive, only because so naive. It presentlybecame obvious that his brother, M. Josef, was as much under hiscontrol as were the girls themselves. Never was such a little hawk of aman as that M. Paul! Ere long, some noted singers and musicians dawnedupon the platform: as these stars rose, the comet-like professor set.Insufferable to him were all notorieties and celebrities: where hecould not outshine, he fled.

  And now all was prepared: but one compartment of the hall waited to befilled--a compartment covered with crimson, like the grand staircaseand doors, furnished with stuffed and cushioned benches, ranged on eachside of two regal chairs, placed solemnly under a canopy.

  A signal was given, the doors rolled back, the assembly stood up, theorchestra burst out, and, to the welcome of a choral burst, enter theKing, the Queen, the Court of Labassecour.

  Till then, I had never set eyes on living king or queen; it mayconsequently be conjectured how I strained my powers of vision to takein these specimens of European royalty. By whomsoever majesty is beheldfor the first time, there will always be experienced a vague surprisebordering on disappointment, that the same does not appear seated, enpermanence, on a throne, bonneted with a crown, and furnished, as tothe hand, with a sceptre. Looking out for a king and queen, and seeingonly a middle-aged soldier and a rather young lady, I felt halfcheated, half pleased.

  Well do I recall that King--a man of fifty, a little bowed, a littlegrey: there was no face in all that assembly which resembled his. I hadnever read, never been told anything of his nature or his habits; andat first the strong hieroglyphics graven as with iron stylet on hisbrow, round his eyes, beside his mouth, puzzled and baffled instinct.Ere long, however, if I did not know, at least I felt, the meaning ofthose characters written without hand. There sat a silent sufferer--anervous, melancholy man. Those eyes had looked on the visits of acertain ghost--had long waited the comings and goings of that strangestspectre, Hypochondria. Perhaps he saw her now on that stage, overagainst him, amidst all that brilliant throng. Hypochondria has thatwont, to rise in the midst of thousands--dark as Doom, pale as Malady,and well-nigh strong as Death. Her comrade and victim thinks to behappy one moment--"Not so," says she; "I come." And she freezes theblood in his heart, and beclouds the light in his eye.

  Some might say it was the foreign crown pressing the King's brows whichbent them to that peculiar and painful fold; some might quote theeffects of early bereavement. Something there might be of both these;but these are embittered by that darkest foe ofhumanity--constitutional melancholy. The Queen, his wife, knew this: itseemed to me, the reflection of her husband's grief lay, a subduingshadow, on her own benignant face. A mild, thoughtful, graceful womanthat princess seemed; not beautiful, not at all like the women of solidcharms and marble feelings described a page or two since. Hers was asomewhat slender shape; her features, though distinguished enough, weretoo suggestive of reigning dynasties and royal lines to giveunqualified pleasure. The expression clothing that profile wasagreeable in the present instance; but you could not avoid connectingit with remembered effigies, where similar lines appeared, under phaseignoble; feeble, or sensual, or cunning, as the case might be. TheQueen's eye, however, was her own; and pity, goodness, sweet sympathy,blessed it with divinest light. She moved no sovereign, but alady--kind, loving, elegant. Her little son, the Prince of Labassecour,and young Duc de Dindonneau, accompanied her: he leaned on his mother'sknee; and, ever and anon, in the course of that evening, I saw herobservant of the monarch at her side, conscious of his becloudedabstraction, and desirous to rouse him fr
om it by drawing his attentionto their son. She often bent her head to listen to the boy's remarks,and would then smilingly repeat them to his sire. The moody Kingstarted, listened, smiled, but invariably relapsed as soon as his goodangel ceased speaking. Full mournful and significant was thatspectacle! Not the less so because, both for the aristocracy and thehonest bourgeoisie of Labassecour, its peculiarity seemed to be whollyinvisible: I could not discover that one soul present was either struckor touched.

  With the King and Queen had entered their court, comprising two orthree foreign ambassadors; and with them came the elite of theforeigners then resident in Villette. These took possession of thecrimson benches; the ladies were seated; most of the men remainedstanding: their sable rank, lining the background, looked like a darkfoil to the splendour displayed in front. Nor was this splendourwithout varying light and shade and gradation: the middle distance wasfilled with matrons in velvets and satins, in plumes and gems; thebenches in the foreground, to the Queen's right hand, seemed devotedexclusively to young girls, the flower--perhaps, I should rather say,the bud--of Villette aristocracy. Here were no jewels, no head-dresses,no velvet pile or silken sheen purity, simplicity, and aerial gracereigned in that virgin band. Young heads simply braided, and fair forms(I was going to write _sylph_ forms, but that would have been quiteuntrue: several of these "jeunes filles," who had not numbered morethan sixteen or seventeen years, boasted contours as robust and solidas those of a stout Englishwoman of five-and-twenty)--fair forms robedin white, or pale rose, or placid blue, suggested thoughts of heavenand angels. I knew a couple, at least, of these "rose et blanche"specimens of humanity. Here was a pair of Madame Beck's latepupils--Mesdemoiselles Mathilde and Angelique: pupils who, during theirlast year at school, ought to have been in the first class, but whosebrains never got them beyond the second division. In English, they hadbeen under my own charge, and hard work it was to get them to translaterationally a page of _The Vicar of Wakefield_. Also during three monthsI had one of them for my vis-a-vis at table, and the quantity ofhousehold bread, butter, and stewed fruit, she would habitually consumeat "second dejeuner" was a real world's wonder--to be exceeded only bythe fact of her actually pocketing slices she could not eat. Here betruths--wholesome truths, too.

  I knew another of these seraphs--the prettiest, or, at any rate, theleast demure and hypocritical looking of the lot: she was seated by thedaughter of an English peer, also an honest, though haughty-lookinggirl: both had entered in the suite of the British embassy. She (_i.e._my acquaintance) had a slight, pliant figure, not at all like the formsof the foreign damsels: her hair, too, was not close-braided, like ashell or a skull-cap of satin; it looked _like_ hair, and waved fromher head, long, curled, and flowing. She chatted away volubly, andseemed full of a light-headed sort of satisfaction with herself and herposition. I did not look at Dr. Bretton; but I knew that he, too, sawGinevra Fanshawe: he had become so quiet, he answered so briefly hismother's remarks, he so often suppressed a sigh. Why should he sigh? Hehad confessed a taste for the pursuit of love under difficulties; herewas full gratification for that taste. His lady-love beamed upon himfrom a sphere above his own: he could not come near her; he was notcertain that he could win from her a look. I watched to see if shewould so far favour him. Our seat was not far from the crimson benches;we must inevitably be seen thence, by eyes so quick and roving as MissFanshawe's, and very soon those optics of hers were upon us: at least,upon Dr. and Mrs. Bretton. I kept rather in the shade and out of sight,not wishing to be immediately recognised: she looked quite steadily atDr. John, and then she raised a glass to examine his mother; a minuteor two afterwards she laughingly whispered her neighbour; upon theperformance commencing, her rambling attention was attracted to theplatform.

  On the concert I need not dwell; the reader would not care to have myimpressions thereanent: and, indeed, it would not be worth while torecord them, as they were the impressions of an ignorance crasse. Theyoung ladies of the Conservatoire, being very much frightened, maderather a tremulous exhibition on the two grand pianos. M. Josef Emanuelstood by them while they played; but he had not the tact or influenceof his kinsman, who, under similar circumstances, would certainly have_compelled_ pupils of his to demean themselves with heroism andself-possession. M. Paul would have placed the hysteric debutantesbetween two fires--terror of the audience, and terror of himself--andwould have inspired them with the courage of desperation, by making thelatter terror incomparably the greater: M. Josef could not do this.

  Following the white muslin pianistes, came a fine, full-grown, sulkylady in white satin. She sang. Her singing just affected me like thetricks of a conjuror: I wondered how she did it--how she made her voicerun up and down, and cut such marvellous capers; but a simple Scotchmelody, played by a rude street minstrel, has often moved me moredeeply.

  Afterwards stepped forth a gentleman, who, bending his body a good dealin the direction of the King and Queen, and frequently approaching hiswhite-gloved hand to the region of his heart, vented a bitter outcryagainst a certain "fausse Isabelle." I thought he seemed especially tosolicit the Queen's sympathy; but, unless I am egregiously mistaken,her Majesty lent her attention rather with the calm of courtesy thanthe earnestness of interest. This gentleman's state of mind was veryharrowing, and I was glad when he wound up his musical exposition ofthe same.

  Some rousing choruses struck me as the best part of the evening'sentertainment. There were present deputies from all the best provincialchoral societies; genuine, barrel-shaped, native Labassecouriens. Theseworthies gave voice without mincing the matter their hearty exertionshad at least this good result--the ear drank thence a satisfying senseof power.

  Through the whole performance--timid instrumental duets, conceitedvocal solos, sonorous, brass-lunged choruses--my attention gave but oneeye and one ear to the stage, the other being permanently retained inthe service of Dr. Bretton: I could not forget him, nor cease toquestion how he was feeling, what he was thinking, whether he wasamused or the contrary. At last he spoke.

  "And how do you like it all, Lucy? You are very quiet," he said, in hisown cheerful tone.

  "I am quiet," I said, "because I am so very, _very_ much interested:not merely with the music, but with everything about me."

  He then proceeded to make some further remarks, with so much equanimityand composure that I began to think he had really not seen what I hadseen, and I whispered--"Miss Fanshawe is here: have you noticed her?"

  "Oh, yes! and I observed that you noticed her too."

  "Is she come with Mrs. Cholmondeley, do you think?"

  "Mrs. Cholmondeley is there with a very grand party. Yes; Ginevra wasin _her_ train; and Mrs. Cholmondeley was in Lady ----'s train, who wasin the Queen's train. If this were not one of the compact little minorEuropean courts, whose very formalities are little more imposing thanfamiliarities, and whose gala grandeur is but homeliness in Sundayarray, it would sound all very fine."

  "Ginevra saw you, I think?"

  "So do I think so. I have had my eye on her several times since youwithdrew yours; and I have had the honour of witnessing a littlespectacle which you were spared."

  I did not ask what; I waited voluntary information, which was presentlygiven.

  "Miss Fanshawe," he said, "has a companion with her--a lady of rank. Ihappen to know Lady Sara by sight; her noble mother has called me inprofessionally. She is a proud girl, but not in the least insolent, andI doubt whether Ginevra will have gained ground in her estimation bymaking a butt of her neighbours."

  "What neighbours?"

  "Merely myself and my mother. As to me it is all very natural: nothing,I suppose, can be fairer game than the young bourgeois doctor; but mymother! I never saw her ridiculed before. Do you know, the curling lip,and sarcastically levelled glass thus directed, gave me a most curioussensation?"

  "Think nothing of it, Dr. John: it is not worth while. If Ginevra werein a giddy mood, as she is eminently to-night, she would make noscruple of laughing at that mild, pensive Q
ueen, or that melancholyKing. She is not actuated by malevolence, but sheer, heedless folly. Toa feather-brained school-girl nothing is sacred."

  "But you forget: I have not been accustomed to look on Miss Fanshawe inthe light of a feather-brained school-girl. Was she not mydivinity--the angel of my career?"

  "Hem! There was your mistake."

  "To speak the honest truth, without any false rant or assumed romance,there actually was a moment, six months ago, when I thought her divine.Do you remember our conversation about the presents? I was not quiteopen with you in discussing that subject: the warmth with which youtook it up amused me. By way of having the full benefit of your lights,I allowed you to think me more in the dark than I really was. It wasthat test of the presents which first proved Ginevra mortal. Still herbeauty retained its fascination: three days--three hours ago, I wasvery much her slave. As she passed me to-night, triumphant in beauty,my emotions did her homage; but for one luckless sneer, I should yet bethe humblest of her servants. She might have scoffed at _me_, and,while wounding, she would not soon have alienated me: through myself,she could not in ten years have done what, in a moment, she has donethrough my mother."

  He held his peace awhile. Never before had I seen so much fire, and solittle sunshine in Dr. John's blue eye as just now.

  "Lucy," he recommenced, "look well at my mother, and say, without fearor favour, in what light she now appears to you."

  "As she always does--an English, middle-class gentlewoman; well, thoughgravely dressed, habitually independent of pretence, constitutionallycomposed and cheerful."

  "So she seems to me--bless her! The merry may laugh _with_ mamma, butthe weak only will laugh _at_ her. She shall not be ridiculed, with myconsent, at least; nor without my--my scorn--my antipathy--my--"

  He stopped: and it was time--for he was getting excited--more it seemedthan the occasion warranted. I did not then know that he had witnesseddouble cause for dissatisfaction with Miss Fanshawe. The glow of hiscomplexion, the expansion of his nostril, the bold curve which disdaingave his well-cut under lip, showed him in a new and striking phase.Yet the rare passion of the constitutionally suave and serene, is not apleasant spectacle; nor did I like the sort of vindictive thrill whichpassed through his strong young frame.

  "Do I frighten you, Lucy?" he asked.

  "I cannot tell why you are so very angry."

  "For this reason," he muttered in my ear. "Ginevra is neither a pureangel, nor a pure-minded woman."

  "Nonsense! you exaggerate: she has no great harm in her."

  "Too much for me. _I_ can see where _you_ are blind. Now dismiss thesubject. Let me amuse myself by teasing mamma: I will assert that sheis flagging. Mamma, pray rouse yourself."

  "John, I will certainly rouse you if you are not better conducted. Willyou and Lucy be silent, that I may hear the singing?"

  They were then thundering in a chorus, under cover of which all theprevious dialogue had taken place.

  "_You_ hear the singing, mamma! Now, I will wager my studs, which aregenuine, against your paste brooch--"

  "My paste brooch, Graham? Profane boy! you know that it is a stone ofvalue."

  "Oh! that is one of your superstitions: you were cheated in thebusiness."

  "I am cheated in fewer things than you imagine. How do you happen to beacquainted with young ladies of the court, John? I have observed two ofthem pay you no small attention during the last half-hour."

  "I wish you would not observe them."

  "Why not? Because one of them satirically levels her eyeglass at me?She is a pretty, silly girl: but are you apprehensive that her titterwill discomfit the old lady?"

  "The sensible, admirable old lady! Mother, you are better to me thanten wives yet."

  "Don't be demonstrative, John, or I shall faint, and you will have tocarry me out; and if that burden were laid upon you, you would reverseyour last speech, and exclaim, 'Mother, ten wives could hardly be worseto me than you are!'"

  * * * * *

  The concert over, the Lottery "au benefice des pauvres" came next: theinterval between was one of general relaxation, and the pleasantestimaginable stir and commotion. The white flock was cleared from theplatform; a busy throng of gentlemen crowded it instead, makingarrangements for the drawing; and amongst these--the busiest ofall--re-appeared that certain well-known form, not tall but active,alive with the energy and movement of three tall men. How M. Paul didwork! How he issued directions, and, at the same time, set his ownshoulder to the wheel! Half-a-dozen assistants were at his beck toremove the pianos, &c.; no matter, he must add to their strength hisown. The redundancy of his alertness was half-vexing, half-ludicrous:in my mind I both disapproved and derided most of this fuss. Yet, inthe midst of prejudice and annoyance, I could not, while watching,avoid perceiving a certain not disagreeable naivete in all he did andsaid; nor could I be blind to certain vigorous characteristics of hisphysiognomy, rendered conspicuous now by the contrast with a throng oftamer faces: the deep, intent keenness of his eye, the power of hisforehead, pale, broad, and full--the mobility of his most flexiblemouth. He lacked the calm of force, but its movement and its fire hesignally possessed.

  Meantime the whole hall was in a stir; most people rose and remainedstanding, for a change; some walked about, all talked and laughed. Thecrimson compartment presented a peculiarly animated scene. The longcloud of gentlemen, breaking into fragments, mixed with the rainbowline of ladies; two or three officer-like men approached the King andconversed with him. The Queen, leaving her chair, glided along the rankof young ladies, who all stood up as she passed; and to each in turn Isaw her vouchsafe some token of kindness--a gracious word, look orsmile. To the two pretty English girls, Lady Sara and Ginevra Fanshawe,she addressed several sentences; as she left them, both, and especiallythe latter, seemed to glow all over with gratification. They wereafterwards accosted by several ladies, and a little circle of gentlemengathered round them; amongst these--the nearest to Ginevra--stood theCount de Hamal.

  "This room is stiflingly hot," said Dr. Bretton, rising with suddenimpatience. "Lucy--mother--will you come a moment to the fresh air?"

  "Go with him, Lucy," said Mrs. Bretton. "I would rather keep my seat."

  Willingly would I have kept mine also, but Graham's desire must takeprecedence of my own; I accompanied him.

  We found the night-air keen; or at least I did: he did not seem to feelit; but it was very still, and the star-sown sky spread cloudless. Iwas wrapped in a fur shawl. We took some turns on the pavement; inpassing under a lamp, Graham encountered my eye.

  "You look pensive, Lucy: is it on my account?"

  "I was only fearing that you were grieved."

  "Not at all: so be of good cheer--as I am. Whenever I die, Lucy, mypersuasion is that it will not be of heart-complaint. I may be stung, Imay seem to droop for a time, but no pain or malady of sentiment hasyet gone through my whole system. You have always seen me cheerful athome?"

  "Generally."

  "I am glad she laughed at my mother. I would not give the old lady fora dozen beauties. That sneer did me all the good in the world. Thankyou, Miss Fanshawe!" And he lifted his hat from his waved locks, andmade a mock reverence.

  "Yes," he said, "I thank her. She has made me feel that nine parts inten of my heart have always been sound as a bell, and the tenth bledfrom a mere puncture: a lancet-prick that will heal in a trice."

  "You are angry just now, heated and indignant; you will think and feeldifferently to-morrow."

  "_I_ heated and indignant! You don't know me. On the contrary, the heatis gone: I am as cool as the night--which, by the way, may be too coolfor you. We will go back."

  "Dr. John, this is a sudden change."

  "Not it: or if it be, there are good reasons for it--two good reasons:I have told you one. But now let us re-enter."

  We did not easily regain our seats; the lottery was begun, and all wasexcited confusion; crowds blocked the sort of corridor along which wehad to pass:
it was necessary to pause for a time. Happening to glanceround--indeed I half fancied I heard my name pronounced--I saw quitenear, the ubiquitous, the inevitable M. Paul. He was looking at megravely and intently: at me, or rather at my pink dress--sardoniccomment on which gleamed in his eye. Now it was his habit to indulge instrictures on the dress, both of the teachers and pupils, at MadameBeck's--a habit which the former, at least, held to be an offensiveimpertinence: as yet I had not suffered from it--my sombre daily attirenot being calculated to attract notice. I was in no mood to permit anynew encroachment to-night: rather than accept his banter, I wouldignore his presence, and accordingly steadily turned my face to thesleeve of Dr. John's coat; finding in that same black sleeve a prospectmore redolent of pleasure and comfort, more genial, more friendly, Ithought, than was offered by the dark little Professor's unlovelyvisage. Dr. John seemed unconsciously to sanction the preference bylooking down and saying in his kind voice, "Ay, keep close to my side,Lucy: these crowding burghers are no respecters of persons."

  I could not, however, be true to myself. Yielding to some influence,mesmeric or otherwise--an influence unwelcome, displeasing, buteffective--I again glanced round to see if M. Paul was gone. No, therehe stood on the same spot, looking still, but with a changed eye; hehad penetrated my thought, and read my wish to shun him. The mockingbut not ill-humoured gaze was turned to a swarthy frown, and when Ibowed, with a view to conciliation, I got only the stiffest andsternest of nods in return.

  "Whom have you made angry, Lucy?" whispered Dr. Bretton, smiling. "Whois that savage-looking friend of yours?"

  "One of the professors at Madame Beck's: a very cross little man."

  "He looks mighty cross just now: what have you done to him? What is itall about? Ah, Lucy, Lucy! tell me the meaning of this."

  "No mystery, I assure you. M. Emanuel is very exigeant, and because Ilooked at your coat-sleeve, instead of curtseying and dipping to him,he thinks I have failed in respect."

  "The little--" began Dr. John: I know not what more he would haveadded, for at that moment I was nearly thrown down amongst the feet ofthe crowd. M. Paul had rudely pushed past, and was elbowing his waywith such utter disregard to the convenience and security of allaround, that a very uncomfortable pressure was the consequence.

  "I think he is what he himself would call 'mechant,'" said Dr. Bretton.I thought so, too.

  Slowly and with difficulty we made our way along the passage, and atlast regained our seats. The drawing of the lottery lasted nearly anhour; it was an animating and amusing scene; and as we each heldtickets, we shared in the alternations of hope and fear raised by eachturn of the wheel. Two little girls, of five and six years old, drewthe numbers: and the prizes were duly proclaimed from the platform.These prizes were numerous, though of small value. It so fell out thatDr. John and I each gained one: mine was a cigar-case, his a lady'shead-dress--a most airy sort of blue and silver turban, with a streamerof plumage on one side, like a snowy cloud. He was excessively anxiousto make an exchange; but I could not be brought to hear reason, and tothis day I keep my cigar-case: it serves, when I look at it, to remindme of old times, and one happy evening.

  Dr. John, for his part, held his turban at arm's length between hisfinger and thumb, and looked at it with a mixture of reverence andembarrassment highly provocative of laughter. The contemplation over,he was about coolly to deposit the delicate fabric on the groundbetween his feet; he seemed to have no shadow of an idea of thetreatment or stowage it ought to receive: if his mother had not come tothe rescue, I think he would finally have crushed it under his arm likean opera-hat; she restored it to the band-box whence it had issued.

  Graham was quite cheerful all the evening, and his cheerfulness seemednatural and unforced. His demeanour, his look, is not easily described;there was something in it peculiar, and, in its way, original. I readin it no common mastery of the passions, and a fund of deep and healthystrength which, without any exhausting effort, bore down Disappointmentand extracted her fang. His manner, now, reminded me of qualities I hadnoticed in him when professionally engaged amongst the poor, theguilty, and the suffering, in the Basse-Ville: he looked at oncedetermined, enduring, and sweet-tempered. Who could help liking him?_He_ betrayed no weakness which harassed all your feelings withconsiderations as to how its faltering must be propped; from _him_broke no irritability which startled calm and quenched mirth; _his_lips let fall no caustic that burned to the bone; _his_ eye shot nomorose shafts that went cold, and rusty, and venomed through yourheart: beside him was rest and refuge--around him, fostering sunshine.

  And yet he had neither forgiven nor forgotten Miss Fanshawe. Onceangered, I doubt if Dr. Bretton were to be soon propitiated--oncealienated, whether he were ever to be reclaimed. He looked at her morethan once; not stealthily or humbly, but with a movement of hardy, openobservation. De Hamal was now a fixture beside her; Mrs. Cholmondeleysat near, and they and she were wholly absorbed in the discourse,mirth, and excitement, with which the crimson seats were as much astiras any plebeian part of the hall. In the course of some apparentlyanimated discussion, Ginevra once or twice lifted her hand and arm; ahandsome bracelet gleamed upon the latter. I saw that its gleamflickered in Dr. John's eye--quickening therein a derisive, irefulsparkle; he laughed:----

  "I think," he said, "I will lay my turban on my wonted altar ofofferings; there, at any rate, it would be certain to find favour: nogrisette has a more facile faculty of acceptance. Strange! for afterall, I know she is a girl of family."

  "But you don't know her education, Dr. John," said I. "Tossed about allher life from one foreign school to another, she may justly proffer theplea of ignorance in extenuation of most of her faults. And then, fromwhat she says, I believe her father and mother were brought up much asshe has been brought up."

  "I always understood she had no fortune; and once I had pleasure in thethought," said he.

  "She tells me," I answered, "that they are poor at home; she alwaysspeaks quite candidly on such points: you never find her lying, asthese foreigners will often lie. Her parents have a large family: theyoccupy such a station and possess such connections as, in theiropinion, demand display; stringent necessity of circumstances andinherent thoughtlessness of disposition combined, have engenderedreckless unscrupulousness as to how they obtain the means of sustaininga good appearance. This is the state of things, and the only state ofthings, she has seen from childhood upwards."

  "I believe it--and I thought to mould her to something better: but,Lucy, to speak the plain truth, I have felt a new thing to-night, inlooking at her and de Hamal. I felt it before noticing the impertinencedirected at my mother. I saw a look interchanged between themimmediately after their entrance, which threw a most unwelcome light onmy mind."

  "How do you mean? You have been long aware of the flirtation they keepup?"

  "Ay, flirtation! That might be an innocent girlish wile to lure on thetrue lover; but what I refer to was not flirtation: it was a lookmarking mutual and secret understanding--it was neither girlish norinnocent. No woman, were she as beautiful as Aphrodite, who could giveor receive such a glance, shall ever be sought in marriage by me: Iwould rather wed a paysanne in a short petticoat and high cap--and besure that she was honest."

  I could not help smiling. I felt sure he now exaggerated the case:Ginevra, I was certain, was honest enough, with all her giddiness. Itold him so. He shook his head, and said he would not be the man totrust her with his honour.

  "The only thing," said I, "with which you may safely trust her. Shewould unscrupulously damage a husband's purse and property, recklesslytry his patience and temper: I don't think she would breathe, or letanother breathe, on his honour."

  "You are becoming her advocate," said he. "Do you wish me to resume myold chains?"

  "No: I am glad to see you free, and trust that free you will longremain. Yet be, at the same time, just."

  "I am so: just as Rhadamanthus, Lucy. When once I am thoroughlyestranged, I cannot help being severe. But look! the
King and Queen arerising. I like that Queen: she has a sweet countenance. Mamma, too, isexcessively tired; we shall never get the old lady home if we staylonger."

  "I tired, John?" cried Mrs. Bretton, looking at least as animated andas wide-awake as her son. "I would undertake to sit you out yet: leaveus both here till morning, and we should see which would look the mostjaded by sunrise."

  "I should not like to try the experiment; for, in truth, mamma, you arethe most unfading of evergreens and the freshest of matrons. It mustthen be on the plea of your son's delicate nerves and fragileconstitution that I found a petition for our speedy adjournment."

  "Indolent young man! You wish you were in bed, no doubt; and I supposeyou must be humoured. There is Lucy, too, looking quite done up. Forshame, Lucy! At your age, a week of evenings-out would not have made mea shade paler. Come away, both of you; and you may laugh at the oldlady as much as you please, but, for my part, I shall take charge ofthe bandbox and turban."

  Which she did accordingly. I offered to relieve her, but was shaken offwith kindly contempt: my godmother opined that I had enough to do totake care of myself. Not standing on ceremony now, in the midst of thegay "confusion worse confounded" succeeding to the King and Queen'sdeparture, Mrs. Bretton preceded us, and promptly made us a lanethrough the crowd. Graham followed, apostrophizing his mother as themost flourishing grisette it had ever been his good fortune to seecharged with carriage of a bandbox; he also desired me to mark heraffection for the sky-blue turban, and announced his conviction thatshe intended one day to wear it.

  The night was now very cold and very dark, but with little delay wefound the carriage. Soon we were packed in it, as warm and as snug asat a fire-side; and the drive home was, I think, still pleasanter thanthe drive to the concert. Pleasant it was, even though thecoachman--having spent in the shop of a "marchand de vin" a portion ofthe time we passed at the concert--drove us along the dark and solitarychaussee far past the turn leading down to La Terrasse; we, who wereoccupied in talking and laughing, not noticing the aberration till, atlast, Mrs. Bretton intimated that, though she had always thought thechateau a retired spot, she did not know it was situated at the world'send, as she declared seemed now to be the case, for she believed we hadbeen an hour and a half en route, and had not yet taken the turn downthe avenue.

  Then Graham looked out, and perceiving only dim-spread fields, withunfamiliar rows of pollards and limes ranged along their else invisiblesunk-fences, began to conjecture how matters were, and calling a haltand descending, he mounted the box and took the reins himself. Thanksto him, we arrived safe at home about an hour and a half beyond ourtime.

  Martha had not forgotten us; a cheerful fire was burning, and a neatsupper spread in the dining-room: we were glad of both. The winter dawnwas actually breaking before we gained our chambers. I took off my pinkdress and lace mantle with happier feelings than I had experienced inputting them on. Not all, perhaps, who had shone brightly arrayed atthat concert could say the same; for not all had been satisfied withfriendship--with its calm comfort and modest hope.