CHAPTER XXVI
"SURVEILLANCE"
I did not question my friend as to his success in the _chasse_. Victorwas evidently ill at ease, and after a few commonplace remarks returnedto his apartments, from whence he did not reappear till dinner-time.Valerie, too, was nowhere to be found, and I spent the afternoon in the_salon_ with a strange visitor, who was announced by the groom of thechambers as Monsieur Stein, and whose business at Edeldorf I confess Iwas at a loss to discover.
The time passed agreeably enough. I was indisposed for reflection, aprocess which, under existing circumstances, could only have involved mein a labyrinth of perplexities; and my new acquaintance was possessed ofa fund of information and small talk which must have been acquired bymuch intercourse with the world.
He seemed perfectly familiar with English habits and English politics,professing great admiration for the one and interest in the other. Hehad _served_ too, he said, although I did not make out exactly in whatgrade; and altogether he was evidently a man of varied experience andconsiderable acquirements.
Silent as I naturally am, and especially reserved with strangers, therewas something about my new acquaintance that led me to be communicativein spite of myself. His whole address and exterior were so thoroughly_confidential_, his manner so easy and unaffected; there was so muchgood-humour and _bonhommie_ in his quiet smile and subdued enunciation,that I found myself almost unconsciously detailing events and impartinginformation with a facility of which I should have once thought I wasincapable. Monsieur Stein listened, and bowed, and smiled, and put in aslight query here, or hazarded an observation there, which proved thathe too was well acquainted with the topics on which I was enlarging; nordid he fail to compliment me on the lucid manner in which he was goodenough to say I had explained to him the whole system of Turkishpolitics, and the relations of that tottering country with our own. Aswe went to make our toilets before dinner, I could not help asking myfriend, the groom of the chambers, whose arm assisted me upstairs (ah!it was Valerie's the night before!), "who he was, this Monsieur Stein,who had arrived so unexpectedly, and had not yet seen the Count?" Theman's face assumed a comical expression of mingled terror and disgust ashe professed an utter ignorance of the guest; but when I added aninquiry as to whether he was a friend of Count Victor, his disclaimerwas far more vigorous than the occasion seemed to demand. "Well,"thought I, "I shall know all about it from Valerie this evening;" andproceeded with my toilet--shall I confess it?--with more pains than Ihad ever taken in my life before.
But when we met at dinner a chill seemed to have fallen on our party,hitherto so merry and vivacious. Victor, though polite and courteous asever, was reserved, absent, and out of spirits. Valerie turned red andwhite by turns, answered only by monosyllables, and never once allowedher eyes to wander in my direction. I, too, felt sad and preoccupied.My coming departure seemed to cast a damp over my spirits; and yet whenI thought of Valerie's unconcealed regret, and frank avowal of interestin my future, my heart leapt with a strange, startling thrill, half ofpleasure, half of pain. Monsieur Stein, however, appeared to sufferfrom none of these uncomfortable sensations. He ate, he drank, hetalked, he made the agreeable, and amidst it all he seemed to note witha lynx-eye the gorgeous furniture, the glittering plate, the host ofservants attired in their gaudy hussar uniforms, the choice wine, andexcellent cookery, for which the _menage_ of Edeldorf had always beenremarkable. In the brilliant light that shed its glare over thedining-table I was able to examine my new acquaintance more minutelythan I had previously done before we went to dress. He seemed to me,without exception, the _least_ remarkable man I had ever met. He wasneither young nor old, neither dark nor fair, neither short nor tall,stout nor thin; his dress, that of a civilian, was plain and unstudiedin the extreme; his demeanour, quiet and unaffected, was in admirablekeeping with his whole exterior. There was nothing military about theman save a closely-clipped and carefully-trained moustache; but thiswarlike appendage was again contradicted by a slight stoop, and asomewhat hesitating gait, by no means that of a soldier. His eye, too,of a cold, dead grey, with light eyelashes, was soft and sleepy. Once Ifancied I caught a lightning glance directed at Valerie; but the orbswere so quickly veiled by their drooping lids that I could not besatisfied it was more than a trick of my own imagination. Altogether M.Stein was a man that in England would have been described emphaticallyas "very gentlemanlike," for want of any more characteristicqualifications; in France he would have been passed over as anundemonstrative cipher; my friends the Turks would have conferred asilent approval on his quiet, unassuming demeanour. Why was it that inHungary his presence should act as what we call at home "a wet blanket"?
Dinner progressed slowly. Monsieur Stein addressed himself chiefly toCount de Rohan; and I could not help remarking that the latter's answersto his guest were marked by a caution and reserve totally foreign to hisusual straightforward manner and off-hand way of saying whatever cameuppermost. His air gave me the idea of a man who was determined not tobe _pumped_. He drank less wine also than usual; and altogether wascertainly not at his ease. Valerie, too, whenever she raised her eyesfrom the tablecloth, glanced uneasily towards Monsieur Stein; and when Imade a casual remark to her, answered so absently and stiffly as tocause me for my part to feel uncomfortable and _de trop_ in this smallill-organised party. It was a relief to all of us when coffee made itsappearance, and the newly-arrived guest, giving his hand to Valerie witha courtly bow, led her back to the drawing-room, whilst I followed withVictor, and took the opportunity of whispering to my old friend, inEnglish--
"Who is this gentleman, Victor, that seems to know a little ofeverything and everybody, and whose thirst for information seems sounquenchable?"
"Hush!" replied Victor, with an uneasy look at the couple in front ofus; "he speaks English as well as you do, though I dare say he told younot. My dear Vere, for Heaven's sake, to-night sit still and hold yourtongue!"
At this instant Valerie turned round, and addressed some triflingobservation to her brother, but with a warning expression of countenancethat seemed to tell him he had been overheard. The next moment we wereseated round her work-table, chatting as gaily upon the merits of herembroidery as though we were all the most intimate friends in the world.Certainly ladies' work promotes conversation of the most harmless andleast suspicious description; and I think it would indeed have beendifficult to affix a definite meaning to the remarks made by any one ofus on the intricacies of Countess Valerie's stitching, or the skilldisplayed by that lady in her graceful and feminine employment.
The evening dragged on. Monsieur Stein conversed freely on the state ofthe country, the condition of the peasantry, the plans of theGovernment, and a projected railroad, for the construction of which hedid not seem to think it possible the Austrian exchequer would ever beable to pay. Victor listened, and scarcely spoke; Valerie seemedinterested in the railway, and determined to pursue that subject as longas possible; whilst I sat, out of spirits, and, truth to tell, out ofhumour, a silent observer of all three. I was deprived of my habitualoccupations, and missed the care and interest to which I was accustomedas an invalid. Valerie did not make my tea for me as usual, nor explainto me, for the hundredth time, the cunning splendour of her embroidery,nor ask for my assistance in the thousand trifling ways with which awoman makes you fancy you are essential to her comfort; and I waschildish enough to feel sad, if not a little sulky, in consequence. Atlast I lost patience, and throwing down abruptly the paper which I hadbeen reading, I asked Countess Valerie to "give us a little music,"adding in perfect innocence, "Do play that beautiful march out of 'TheHonijady'--it is so inspiriting and so thoroughly national!"
If a shell had fallen into the room, and commenced its whizzingoperations under Valerie's work-table, it could not have created greaterconsternation than did my very natural request. The Countess turneddeadly pale, and her hand trembled so that she could scarcely hold herneedle.
Victor rose from his chair with a tremendous oath, and walkingoff to the fire-place (for he was sufficiently an Englishman to prefer agrate to a stove), commenced stirring an already huge fire with muchunnecessary energy, talking the whole time as if to drown my unluckyobservation. Monsieur Stein flashed one of his lightning glances--therewas no mistaking it this time--upon the whole of us, and then relapsedinto his previous composure; whilst I felt that I had committed someunpardonable _gaucherie_, but could not, for the life of me, discoverhow or why.
It was hopeless that evening to make any more attempts at conversation.Even the guest seemed to think he had exerted himself sufficiently, andat an earlier hour than usual we retired for the night. When I camedown next morning he was gone.
Victor did not appear at breakfast, and Valerie's excuses for herbrother were delivered with a degree of restraint and formality whichmade me feel very uncomfortable.
"Victor was busy," she said, "with the steward and the land-agent. Hehad a great deal to do; he would not be at leisure for hours, but hewould see me before he started on his journey."
"Journey!" said I; "what journey does he mean to take? and what is allthis mystery and confusion? Pardon me, Countess Valerie, I am astraightforward man, Victor is my oldest friend, and I do claim to be inthe secret, if I can be of any assistance or comfort to you inanything."
She looked at me once more with the frank, confiding look that remindedme so of _another_; and putting her hand in mine, she said--
"I know we can trust you; I know _I_ can trust you. Victor is_compromised_; he must go to Vienna to clear himself. He has yesterdayreceived a hint that amounts indeed to an order. We are not even freeto live on our own lands," she added bitterly, and with the old gleam ofdefiance flashing over her features; "the proudest noble in Hungary isbut a serf after all."
"And Monsieur Stein?" I asked, for I was beginning to penetrate themystery.
"Is an agent of police," she replied, "and one of the cleverest in theEmperor's service. Did you remark how _civil_ we were forced to be tohim? Did you not notice Victor's constrained and uncomfortable manner?Whilst he remained, that man was our master--that low-born spy ourmaster! This is what we have come to. His mission was understoodplainly enough by both of us. He came with a hint from the Emperor thatwe were very remiss in our attendance at Court; that his ImperialMajesty valued our loyalty too much to doubt its sincerity; and that itwould be better, _all things considered_, if we were to spend the winterat Vienna. Also, I doubt not, information was required as to what ourEnglish friend was about; and when it is reported--as reported it willbe--that his musical taste leads him to admire 'the march in theHonijady,' why we shall probably be put under 'surveillance' for sixmonths, and be obliged to reside in the capital for a year or two, tillwe have got thoroughly Austrianised, when we shall return here, feelingour degradation more bitterly than ever."
"And why may I not consult my own taste in music?" I inquired; "or whatis there so deadly in that beautiful march which you play with suchbrilliancy and spirit?"
Valerie laughed.
"Do you not know," said she, "that the Honijadys were nearly connectedwith our ancestors--that the De Rohans, originally Norman, only becameHungarian through their alliance with that princely family--a race whowere never found wanting when it was necessary to assert theindependence of their country? It was a Honijady that rolled the Turksback from the very gates of Vienna. It was a Honijady that firstresisted the oppression of Austrian despotism. It was a Honijady thatshed the last drop of noble blood spilt in our late struggle forindependence. The finest of our operas is founded on the history ofthis devoted family, and the Honijady march is the very gathering tuneof all who hate the iron yoke under which we groan. Only look at thefaces of a Hungarian audience as they listen to its forbidden tones--forit must now only be played in secret--and you comprehend why, of all theairs that ever were composed, the last you should have asked for in thepresence of Monsieur Stein was the march in 'The Honijady.'"
"I do truly regret my indiscretion," was my reply; "but if Victor iscompelled to go to Vienna, I shall certainly accompany him. It is notmy practice to abandon a friend, and _such_ a friend, in his distress.Though I can be of little use, my presence may be some comfort andamusement to him; besides, the very fact of my proceeding straight intothe lion's mouth will show that I have not been staying here with anyulterior views."
"You are, indeed, true as steel," replied Valerie, with a frank, honestsmile, that went straight to my heart. "We will all start together thisvery afternoon; and I am glad--at least it is far better--that youshould not be parted from your nurse till you are quite strong again.Your presence will be a great comfort to my brother, who is----"Valerie hesitated, blushed up to her forehead, and added, abruptly, "Mr.Egerton, have you not remarked any difference in Victor lately?"
I replied, that "I thought his spirits were less mercurial thanformerly, but that probably he had the anticipation of yesterday'sdomiciliary visit hanging over him, which would at once account for anyamount of discontent and depression."
"No, it is not that," answered Valerie, with increasing embarrassment."It is worse even than that. My poor Victor! I know him so well--Ilove him so much! and he is breaking his noble heart for one who istotally unworthy of him. If there is one being on earth that I hate anddespise more than another, it is a _coquette_," added the girl, withflashing eyes; "a woman who is so wanting in womanly pride as to layherself out for admiration--so false to her own nature as to despise itwhen it is won."
"All women like admiration," I ventured to interpose very humbly, for itstruck me that the young Countess herself was in this respect noabnormal variety of her species; "and I conclude that in this, as ineverything else, difficulty enhances the pleasure of success."
She darted a reproachful look at me from under her dark eyelashes, butshe had her say out notwithstanding.
"No woman," she exclaimed, "has a right any more than a man, to triflewith the affections of another. Why should any one human being, for thesake of an hour's amusement, or the gratification of a mere passingvanity, inflict on another the greatest pain which mortal heart cansuffer? You would be thought a monster so to torture the body; and arenot the pangs of the soul infinitely worse to bear? No! I repeat it,she has deceived my brother with her silver accents and her false, falsesmiles; she is torturing the noblest, truest, kindest heart that everbrave man bore, and I hate her for it with a deadly, quenchless hatred!"
I never found Valerie so charming as when she thus played the termagant.There was something so _piquante_ in her wild, reckless manner on theseoccasions--in the flash of her bright eyes, the play of her chiselledfeatures, and the attitude of her lithe, graceful figure, when she saidshe _hated_, that I could have found it in my heart to make her say shehated me rather than not hear the well-known word. I repliedaccordingly, rather mischievously I own--
"Do you not think, Valerie, you are throwing away a great deal ofindignation unnecessarily? Men are not so sensitive as you seem tothink. We do not break our hearts very readily, I assure you; and evenwhen we do, we mend them again nearly as good as new. Besides, the restof you take compassion on us when we are ill-treated by one. Theyconsole us, and we accept their consolation. If the rose is not inbloom, what shall prevent us from gathering the violet? Decidedly,Countess Valerie, we are more philosophers than you."
"You do not know Victor, if you say so," she burst forth. "You do notthink as you speak. You are a dishonest reasoner, and you try to imposeupon _me_! I tell you, _you_ are the last man in the world to hold suchopinions. You are wrong, and you know you are wrong, and you only speakthus to provoke me. I judge of others by myself. I believe that all ofus are more or less alike, and I know that _I_ could never forgive suchan injury. What! to be led on day by day, to feel if not to confess apreference, to find it bit by bit eating into one's being, till atlength one belongs no longer to oneself, but knows one's whole existenceto be wrapped up in another, and t
hen at the last moment to discoverthat one has been deceived! that one has been giving gold for silver!that the world is empty, and the heart dead for ever! I know what Ishould do."
"What _would_ you do?" I asked, half amused and half alarmed at herexcited gestures.
"Take a De Rohan's revenge, if I broke my heart for it the nextinstant," she replied: and then, as if ashamed of her enthusiasm, andthe passion into which she had very unnecessarily put herself, rushedfrom the room.
"What a dangerous lady to have anything to do with," I remarked to Bold,as he rose from the hearthrug, with a stretch and a yawn. "Well, olddog, so you and I are bound for Vienna this afternoon; I wonder whatwill come of it all?"
Yet there was a certain pleasant excitement about my position, too. Itwas evident that Valerie took more than a common interest in herbrother's friend. Her temper had become very variable of late; and Ihad remarked that although, until the scene in the garden, she had nevershunned my society, she had often appeared provoked at any expression ofopinion which I chanced to hazard contrary to her own. She had also oflate been constantly absent, _distraite_, and preoccupied, sometimescauselessly satirical, bitter, and even rude, in her remarks. What couldit all mean? was I playing with edged tools? It might be so. Nevermind, never mind, Bold; anything, _anything_ for excitement andforgetfulness of the days gone by.