CHAPTER VII.
_The First Fancy_
EASTER was over, the sun shone, the world was mad, and the young Dukemade his debut at Almack's. He determined to prove that he had profitedby a winter at Vienna. His dancing was declared consummate. He gallopedwith grace and waltzed with vigour. It was difficult to decide whichwas more admirable, the elegance of his prance or the precision of hiswhirl. A fat Russian Prince, a lean Austrian Count, a little GermanBaron, who, somehow or other, always contrived to be the most markedcharacters of the evening, disappeared in despair.
There was a lady in the room who attracted the notice of our hero. Shewas a remarkable personage. There are some sorts of beauty which defydescription, and almost scrutiny. Some faces rise upon us in the tumultof life like stars from out the sea, or as if they had moved out of apicture. Our first impression is anything but fleshly. We are struckdumb, we gasp, our limbs quiver, a faintness glides over our frame,we are awed; instead of gazing upon the apparition, we avert the eyes,which yet will feed upon its beauty. A strange sort of unearthly painmixes with the intense pleasure. And not till, with a struggle, we callback to our memory the commonplaces of existence, can we recover ourcommonplace demeanour. These, indeed, are rare visions, early feelings,when our young existence leaps with its mountain torrents; but as theriver of our life rolls on, our eyes grow dimmer or our blood more cold.
Some effect of this kind was produced on the Duke of St. James by theunknown dame. He turned away his head to collect his senses. His eyesagain rally; and this time, being prepared, he was more successful inhis observations.
The lady was standing against the wall; a young man was addressing someremarks to her which apparently were not very interesting. She was talland young, and, as her tiara betokened, married; dazzling fair, butwithout colour; with locks like night and features delicate, butprecisely defined. Yet all this did not at first challenge theobservation of the young Duke. It was the general and peculiarexpression of her countenance which had caused in him such emotion.There was an expression of resignation, or repose, or sorrow, orserenity, which in these excited chambers was strange, and singular, andlone. She gazed like some genius invisible to the crowd, and mourningover its degradation.
He stopped St. Maurice, as his cousin passed by, to inquire her name,and learnt that she was Lady Aphrodite Grafton, the wife of Sir LuciusGrafton.
'What, Lucy Grafton!' exclaimed the Duke. 'I remember; I was his fagat Eton. He was a handsome dog; but I doubt whether he deserves such awife. Introduce me.'
Lady Aphrodite received our hero with a gentle bow, and did not seemquite as impressed with his importance as most of those to whom he hadbeen presented in the course of the evening. The Duke had considerabletact with women, and soon perceived that the common topics of a hackflirtation would not do in the present case. He was therefore mild andmodest, rather piquant, somewhat rational, and apparently perfectlyunaffected. Her Ladyship's reserve wore away. She refused to dance,but conversed with more animation. The Duke did not leave her side. Thewomen began to stare, the men to bet: Lady Aphrodite against thefield. In vain his Grace laid a thousand plans to arrange a tea-roomtete-a-tete. He was unsuccessful. As he was about to return to thecharge her Ladyship desired a passer-by to summon her carriage. No timewas to be lost. The Duke began to talk hard about his old friend andschoolfellow, Sir Lucius. A greenhorn would have thought it madness totake an interest in such a person of all others; but women like you toenter their house as their husband's friend. Lady Aphrodite could notrefrain from expressing her conviction that Sir Lucius would be mosthappy to renew his acquaintance with the Duke of St. James, and theDuke of St. James immediately said that he would take the earliestopportunity of giving him that pleasure.