CHAPTER XXXIX. Colonel Altamont appears and disappears
On the day appointed, Major Pendennis, who had formed no betterengagement, and Arthur who desired none, arrived together to dine withSir Francis Clavering. The only tenants of the drawing-room when Penand his uncle reached it, were Sir Francis and his wife, and our friendCaptain Strong, whom Arthur was very glad to see, though the Majorlooked very sulkily at Strong, being by no means well pleased to sitdown to dinner with Clavering's d---- house-steward, as he irreverentlycalled Strong. But Mr. Welbore Welbore, Clavering's country neighbourand brother member of Parliament, speedily arriving, Pendennis the elderwas somewhat appeased, for Welbore, though perfectly dull, and takingno more part in the conversation at dinner than the footman behind hischair, was a respectable country gentleman of ancient family and seventhousand a year: and the Major felt always at ease in such society. Tothese were added other persons of note: the Dowager Lady Rockminster,who had her reasons for being well with the Clavering family, and theLady Agnes Foker, with her son Mr. Harry, our old acquaintance. Mr.Pynsent could not come, his parliamentary duties keeping him at theHouse, duties which sate upon the two other senators very lightly. MissBlanche Amory was the last of the company who made her appearance. Shewas dressed in a killing white silk dress which displayed her pearlyshoulders to the utmost advantage. Foker whisped to Pen, who regardedher with eyes of evident admiration, that he considered her "a stunner."She chose to be very gracious to Arthur upon this day, and held out herhand most cordially, and talked about dear Fairoaks, and asked fordear Laura and his mother, and said she was longing to go back to thecountry, and in fact was entirely simple, affectionate, and artless.
Harry Foker thought he had never seen anybody so amiable and delightful.Not accustomed much to the society of ladies, and ordinarily being dumbto their presence, he found that he could speak before Miss Amory,and became uncommonly lively and talkative, even before the dinner wasannounced and the party descended to the lower rooms. He would havelonged to give his arm to the fair Blanche, and conduct her down thebroad carpeted stair; but she fell to the lot of Pen upon this occasion,Mr. Foker being appointed to escort Mrs. Welbore Welbore, in consequenceof his superior rank as an earl's grandson.
But though he was separated from the object of his desire during thepassage downstairs, the delighted Foker found himself by Miss Amory'sside at the dinner-table, and flattered himself that he had manoeuvredvery well in securing that happy place. It may be that the move was nothis, but that it was made by another person. Blanche had thus the twoyoung men, one on each side of her, and each tried to render himselfgallant and agreeable.
Foker's mamma, from her place, surveying her darling boy, was surprisedat his vivacity. Harry talked constantly to his fair neighbour about thetopics of the day.
"Seen Taglioni in the Sylphide, Miss Amory? Bring me that souprame ofVolile again if you please (this was addressed to the attendant nearhim), very good: can't think where the souprames come from; what becomesof the legs of the fowls, I wonder? She's clipping in the Sylphide,ain't she?" and he began very kindly to hum the pretty air whichpervades that prettiest of all ballets, now faded into the past withthat most beautiful and gracious of all dancers. Will the young folksever see anything so charming, anything so classic, anything likeTaglioni?
"Miss Amory is a sylph herself," said Mr. Pen.
"What a delightful tenor voice you have, Mr. Foker," said the younglady. "I am sure you have been well taught. I sing a little myself. Ishould like to sing with you."
Pen remembered that words very similar had been addressed to himself bythe young lady, and that she had liked to sing with him in former days.And sneering within himself, he wondered with how many other gentlemenshe had sung duets since his time? But he did not think fit to put thisawkward question aloud: and only said, with the very tenderest air whichhe could assume, "I should like to hear you sing again, Miss Blanche. Inever heard a voice I liked so well as yours, I think."
"I thought you liked Laura's," said Miss Blanche.
"Laura's is a contralto: and that voice is very often out, you know,"Pen said, bitterly. "I have heard a great deal of music, in London,"he continued. "I'm tired of those professional people--they sing tooloud--or I have grown too old or too blase. One grows old very soon, inLondon, Miss Amory. And like all old fellows, I only care for the songsI heard in my youth."
"I like English music best. I don't care for foreign songs much. Get mesome saddle of mutton," said Mr. Foker.
"I adore English ballads, of all things," said Miss Amory.
"Sing me one of the old songs after dinner, will you?" said Pen, with animploring voice.
"Shall I sing you an English song, after dinner?" asked the Sylphide,turning to Mr. Foker. "I will, if you will promise to come up soon:" andshe gave him a perfect broadside of her eyes.
"I'll come up after dinner, fast enough," he said, simply. "I don't careabout much wine afterwards--I take my whack at dinner--I mean my share,you know; and when I have had as much as I want I toddle up to tea. I'ma domestic character, Miss Amory--my habits are simple--and when I'mpleased I'm generally in a good-humour, ain't I, Pen?--that jelly, ifyou please--not that one, the other with the cherries inside. How thedoose do they get those cherries inside the jellies?" In this waythe artless youth prattled on: and Miss Amory listened to him withinexhaustible good-humour. When the ladies took their departure for theupper regions, Blanche made the two young men promise faithfully to quitthe table soon, and departed with kind glances to each. She dropped hergloves on Foker's side of the table and her handkerchief on Pen's. Eachhad had some little attention paid to him: her politeness to Mr. Fokerwas perhaps a little more encouraging than her kindness to Arthur: butthe benevolent little creature did her best to make both the gentlemenhappy. Foker caught her last glance as she rushed out of the door; thatbright look passed over Mr. Strong's broad white waistcoat and shotstraight at Harry Foker's. The door closed on the charmer: he sate downwith a sigh, and swallowed a bumper of claret.
As the dinner at which Pen and his uncle took their places was not oneof our grand parties, it had been served at a considerably earlier hourthan those ceremonial banquets of the London season, which custom hasordained shall scarcely take place before nine o'clock; and, the companybeing small, and Miss Blanche anxious to betake herself to her piano inthe drawing-room, giving constant hints to her mother to retreat,--LadyClavering made that signal very speedily, so that it was quitedaylight yet when the ladies reached the upper apartments, from theflower-embroidered balconies of which they could command a view of thetwo Parks, of the poor couples and children still sauntering in the one,and of the equipages of ladies and the horses of dandies passing throughthe arch of the other. The sun, in a word had not set behind the elmsof Kensington Gardens, and was still gilding the statue erected by theladies of England in honour of his Grace the Duke of Wellington, whenLady Clavering and her female friends left the gentlemen drinking wine.
The windows of the dining-room were opened to let in the fresh air,and afforded to the passers-by in the street a pleasant, or perhaps,tantalising view of six gentlemen in white waistcoats with a quantityof decanters and a variety of fruits before them--little boys, as theypassed and jumped up at the area-railings and took a peep, said to oneanother, "Hi hi, Jim, shouldn't you like to be there and have a cut ofthat there pineapple?"--the horses and carriages of the nobility andgentry passed by conveying them to Belgravian toilets: the policeman,with clamping feet patrolled up and down before the mansion: the shadesof evening began to fall: the gasman came and lighted the lamps beforeSir Francis's door: the butler entered the dining-room, and illuminatedthe antique gothic chandelier over the antique carved oak dining-table:so that from outside the house you looked inwards upon a night-scene offeasting and wax-candles; and from within you beheld a vision of a calmsummer evening, and the wall of Saint James's Park, and the sky above,in which a star or two was just beginning to twinkle.
Jeames, with folded legs,
leaning against the door-pillar of hismaster's abode, looked forth musingly upon the latter tranquil sight:whilst a spectator clinging to the railings examined the former scene.Policeman X passing, gave his attention to neither, but fixed it uponthe individual holding by the railings, and gazing into Sir FrancisClavering's dining-room, where Strong was laughing and talking away,making the conversation for the party.
The man at the railing was very gorgeously attired with chains,jewellery, and waistcoats, which the illumination from the house lightedup to great advantage; his boots were shiny; he had brass buttons to hiscoat, and large white wristbands over his knuckles; and indeed looked sogrand, that X imagined he beheld a member of parliament, or a personof consideration before him. Whatever his rank, however, the M.P.,or person of consideration, was considerably excited by wine; for helurched and reeled somewhat in his gait, and his hat was cocked overhis wild and bloodshot eyes in a manner which no sober hat ever couldassume. His copious black hair was evidently surreptitious, and hiswhiskers of the Tyrian purple.
As Strong's laughter, following after one of his own gros mots, cameringing out of window, this gentleman without laughed and sniggered inthe queerest way likewise, and he slapped his thigh and winked at Jeamespensive in the portico, as much as to say, "Plush, my boy, isn't that agood story?"
Jeames's attention had been gradually drawn from the moon in theheavens to this sublunary scene; and he was puzzled and alarmed by theappearance of the man in shiny boots. "A holtercation," he remarkedafterwards, in the servants'-hall--a "holtercation with a feller inthe streets is never no good; and indeed he was not hired for anysuch purpose." So, having surveyed the man for some time, who wenton laughing, reeling, nodding his head with tipsy knowingness, Jeameslooked out of the portico, and softly called "Pleaceman," and beckonedto that officer.
X marched up resolute, with one Berlin glove stuck in his belt-side, andJeames simply pointed with his index finger to the individual who waslaughing against the railings. Not one single word more than "Pleaceman"did he say, but stood there in the calm summer evening, pointing calmly:a grand sight.
X advanced to the individual and said, "Now, sir, will you have thekindness to move hon?"
The individual, who was in perfect good-humour, did not appear to hearone word which Policeman X uttered, but nodded and waggled his grinninghead at Strong, until his hat almost fell from his head over the arearailings.
"Now, sir, move on, do you hear?" cries X, in a much more peremptorytone, and he touched the stranger gently with one of the fingersenclosed in the gauntlets of the Berlin woof.
He of the many rings instantly started, or rather staggered back, intowhat is called an attitude of self-defence, and in that position beganthe operation which is entitled 'squaring' at Policeman X, and showedhimself brave and warlike, if unsteady. "Hullo! keep your hands off agentleman," he said, with an oath which need not be repeated.
"Move on out of this," said X, "and don't be a blocking up the pavement,staring into gentlemen's dining-rooms."
"Not stare--ho, ho,--not stare--that is a good one," replied the otherwith a satiric laugh and sneer--"Who's to prevent me from staring,looking at my friends, if I like? not you, old highlows."
"Friends! I dessay. Move on," answered X.
"If you touch me, I'll pitch into you, I will," roared the other. "Itell you I know 'em all--That's Sir Francis Clavering, Baronet, M.P.--Iknow him, and he knows me--and that's Strong, and that's the young chapthat made the row at the ball. I say, Strong, Strong!"
"It's that d---- Altamont," cried Sir Francis within, with a start and aguilty look; and Strong also, with a look of annoyance, got up from thetable, and ran out to the intruder.
A gentleman in a white waistcoat, running out from a dining-roombareheaded, a policeman, and an individual decently attired, engaged inalmost fisticuffs on the pavement, were enough to make a crowd, even inthat quiet neighbourhood, at half-past eight o'clock in the evening, anda small mob began to assemble before Sir Francis Clavering's door. "ForGod's sake, come in," Strong said, seizing his acquaintance's arm. "Sendfor a cab, James, if you please," he added in an under voice to thatdomestic; and carrying the excited gentleman out of the street, theouter door was closed upon him, and the small crowd began to move away.
Mr. Strong had intended to convey the stranger into Sir Francis'sprivate sitting-room, where the hats of the male guests were awaitingthem, and having there soothed his friend by bland conversation, to havecarried him off as soon as the cab arrived--but the new-comer was in agreat state of wrath at the indignity which had been put upon him; andwhen Strong would have led him into the second door, said in a tipsyvoice, "That ain't the door--that's the dining-room door--where thedrink's going on--and I'll go and have some, by Jove; I'll go and havesome." At this audacity the butler stood aghast in the hall, and placedhimself before the door: but it opened behind him, and the master of thehouse made his appearance, with anxious looks.
"I will have some,--by ---- I will," the intruder was roaring out, asSir Francis came forward. "Hullo! Clavering, I say I'm come to have somewine with you; hay! old boy--hay, old corkscrew? Get us a bottle of theyellow seal, you old thief--the very best--a hundred rupees a dozen, andno mistake."
The host reflected a moment over his company. There is only Welbore,Pendennis, and those two lads, he thought--and with a forced laugh and apiteous look, he said,--"Well, Altamont, come in. I am very glad to seeyou, I'm sure."
Colonel Altamont, for the intelligent reader has doubtless long ere thisdiscovered in the stranger His Excellency the Ambassador of the Nawaubof Lucknow, reeled into the dining-room, with a triumphant look towardsJeames, the footman, which seemed to say, "There, sir, what do you thinkof that? Now, am I a gentleman or no?" and sank down into the firstvacant chair. Sir Francis Clavering timidly stammered out the Colonel'sname to his guest Mr. Welbore Welbore, and his Excellency began drinkingwine forthwith and gazing round upon the company, now with the mostwonderful frowns, and anon with the blandest smiles, and hiccuppedremarks encomiastic of the drink which he was imbibing.
"Very singular man. Has resided long in a native court in India,"Strong said, with great gravity, the Chevalier's presence of mind neverdeserting him--"in those Indian courts they get very singular habits."
"Very," said Major Pendennis, drily, and wondering what in goodness'name was the company into which he had got.
Mr. Foker was pleased with the new-comer. "It's the man who would singthe Malay song at the Back Kitchen," he whispered to Pen. "Try thispine, sir," he then said to Colonel Altamont, "it's uncommonly fine."
"Pines--I've seen 'em feed pigs on pines," said the Colonel.
"All the Nawaub of Lucknow's pigs are fed on pines," Strong whispered toMajor Pendennis.
"Oh, of course," the Major answered. Sir Francis Clavering was, in themeanwhile, endeavouring to make an excuse to his brother-guest for thenew-comer's condition, and muttered something regarding Altamont, thathe was an extraordinary character, very eccentric, very--had Indianhabits--didn't understand the rules of English society--to whichold Welbore, a shrewd old gentleman, who drank his wine with greatregularity, said, "that seemed pretty clear."
Then the Colonel, seeing Pen's honest face, regarded it for a while withas much steadiness as became his condition; and said, "I know you, too,young fellow. I remember you. Baymouth ball, by Jingo. Wanted to fightthe Frenchman. I remember you;" and he laughed, and he squared with hisfists, and seemed hugely amused in the drunken depths of his mind, asthese recollections passed, or, rather, reeled across it.
"Mr. Pendennis, you remember Colonel Altamont, at Baymouth?" Strongsaid: upon which Pen, bowing rather stiffly, said, "he had the pleasureof remembering that circumstance perfectly."
"What's his name?" cried the Colonel. Strong named Mr. Pendennis again.
"Pendennis!--Pendennis be hanged!" Altamont roared out to the surpriseof every one, and thumping with his fist on the table.
"My name is also Pendennis, sir," said the Maj
or, whose dignity wasexceedingly mortified by the evening's events--that he, Major Pendennis,should have been asked to such a party, and that a drunken man shouldhave been introduced to it. "My name is Pendennis, and I will be obligedto you not to curse it too loudly."
The tipsy man turned round to look at him, and as he looked, it appearedas if Colonel Altamont suddenly grew sober. He put his hand across hisforehead, and in doing so, displaced somewhat the black wig which hewore; and his eyes stared fiercely at the Major, who, in his turn, likea resolute old warrior as he was, looked at his opponent very keenly andsteadily. At the end of the mutual inspection, Altamont began to buttonup his brass-buttoned coat, and rising up from his chair, suddenly, andto the company's astonishment, reeled towards the door, and issuedfrom it, followed by Strong: all that the latter heard him utterwas--"Captain Beak! Captain Beak, by jingo!"
There had not passed above a quarter of an hour from his strangeappearance to his equally sudden departure. The two young men andthe baronet's other guest wondered at the scene, and could find noexplanation for it. Clavering seemed exceedingly pale and agitated, andturned with looks of almost terror towards Major Pendennis. The latterhad been eyeing his host keenly for a moment or two. "Do you know him?"asked Sir Francis of the Major.
"I am sure I have seen the fellow," the Major replied, looking as ifhe, too, was puzzled. "Yes, I have it. He was a deserter from the HorseArtillery who got into the Nawaub's service. I remember his face quitewell."
"Oh!" said Clavering, with a sigh which indicated immense relief ofmind, and the Major looked at him with a twinkle of his sharp old eyes.The cab which Strong had desired to be called, drove away with theChevalier and Colonel Altamont; coffee was brought to the remaininggentlemen, and they went upstairs to the ladies in the drawing-room,Foker declaring confidentially to Pen that "this was the rummest gohe ever saw," which decision Pen said, laughing, "Showed greatdiscrimination on Mr. Foker's part."
Then, according to her promise, Miss Amory made music for the young men.Foker was enraptured with her performance, and kindly joined in theairs which she sang, when he happened to be acquainted with them. Penaffected to talk aside with others of the party, but Blanche brought himquickly to the piano, by singing some of his own words, those whichwe have given in a previous number, indeed, and which the Sylphide hadherself, she said, set to music. I don't know whether the air was hers,or how much of it was arranged for her by Signor Twankidillo, from whomshe took lessons: but good or bad, original or otherwise, it delightedMr. Pen, who remained by her side, and turned the leaves now for hermost assiduously--"Gad! how I wish I could write verses like you, Pen,"Foker sighed afterwards to his companion. "If I could do 'em, wouldn'tI, that's all? But I never was a dab at writing, you see, and I'm sorryI was so idle when I was at school."
No mention was made before the ladies of the curious little scene whichhad been transacted below-stairs; although Pen was just on the point ofdescribing it to Miss Amory, when that young lady inquired for CaptainStrong, who she wished should join her in a duet. But chancing to lookup towards Sir Francis Clavering, Arthur saw a peculiar expression ofalarm in the baronet's ordinarily vacuous face, and discreetly held histongue. It was rather a dull evening. Welbore went to sleep as he alwaysdid at music and after dinner: nor did Major Pendennis entertain theladies with copious anecdotes and endless little scandalous stories,as his wont was, but sate silent for the most part, and appeared to belistening to the music, and watching the fair young performer.
The hour of departure having arrived the Major rose, regretting that sodelightful an evening should have passed away so quickly, and addresseda particularly fine compliment to Miss Amory upon her splendid talentsas a singer. "Your daughter, Lady Clavering," he said to that lady, "isa perfect nightingale--a perfect nightingale, begad! I have scarcelyever heard anything equal to her, and her pronunciation of everylanguage--begad, of every language--seems to me to be perfect; andthe best houses in London must open before a young lady who has suchtalents, and, allow an old fellow to say, Miss Amory, such a face."
Blanche was as much astonished by these compliments as Pen was, to whomhis uncle, a little time since, had been speaking in very disparagingterms of the Sylph. The Major and the two young men walked hometogether, after Mr. Foker had placed his mother in her carriage, andprocured a light for an enormous cigar.
The young gentleman's company or his tobacco did not appear to beagreeable to Major Pendennis, who eyed him askance several times, andwith a look which plainly indicated that he wished Mr. Foker would takehis leave; but Foker hung on resolutely to the uncle and nephew, evenuntil they came to the former's door in Bury Street, where the Majorwished the lads good night.
"And I say, Pen," he said in a confidential whisper, calling his nephewback, "mind you make a point of calling in Grosvenor Place to-morrow.They've been uncommonly civil; mons'ously civil and kind."
Pen promised and wondered, and the Major's door having been closed uponhim by Morgan, Foker took Pen's arm, and walked with him for some timesilently puffing his cigar. At last, when they had reached Charing Crosson Arthur's way home to the Temple, Harry Foker relieved himself, andbroke out with that eulogium upon poetry, and those regrets regarding amisspent youth which have just been mentioned. And all the way alongthe Strand, and up to the door of Pen's very staircase, in Lamb Court,Temple, young Harry Foker did not cease to speak about singing andBlanche Amory.