University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

The next morning, at twelve, a richly-liveried
chasseur announced Count Carolan. It was the
hour of the appointment, and Claude was ready to
receive him. It was the first time they had met,
and they seemed mutually pleased with each other.
Claude's appearance was calculated to make a favourable
impression on a man of ton like Carolan.
Considerably above the middle height, and at once
striking the attention as a handsome man, he was
one of the few who to personal advantages add the
charm which springs from mind and character. His
form was erect and commanding, with that military
air which ensures respect; and his countenance, refined
and noble, conveyed an impression of a nature
whose gentler attributes were governed by a high
order of energy and courage. His voice was sweet
and well modulated, and his manners that of one
accustomed to society, and who had the repose and
polish, without the frivolity and mannerism, which
so often distinguish a mere homme à la mode.

Count Carolan was a different sort of person.
He also was a handsome man, not equal in height
to the ordinary standard, with the air and appearance
of a perfect gentleman, and unusually pleasing
in his manners. He made himself very agreeable,
asked Claude after Lord Perceval, and alluded to
the favourable impression he had left upon Madame
Wharton, whom he had declared to be a superior
woman. In reply to some inquiries after her, he
said,

“She has been in a higher position in life, but, I
fear, not in a happier; and we have, from delicacy,
always abstained from asking details of circumstances
which she appears anxious to banish altogather

from her mind. She is contented with us,
and she has been of inestimable service to my
daughter. By-the-way, I hope you will not forget
us to-day at four.”

The count's carriage was at the door, and they
proceeded to their calls without farther delay. It
was three o'clock before the count dropped him
again at his hotel. They had seen many, and left
cards on many more distinguished persons. He
was still more favourably impressed with his new
friend after this interview, and a sincere regard appeared
to have sprung up between them; a slight
pomposity of manner, which would scarcely attract
his attention if he had not heard it alluded to, occasionally
jarred upon the pleasures of the ride; but
Claude amiably reasoned that every man had his
foibles, and it was wise to shut one's eyes to all but
the good in those with whom we associate.

At four o'clock he was at the door of Carolan's
splendid palace, the exterior of which he had already
so much admired. A file of carriages, the
servants in full livery, were driving up and off again,
having set down their company upon a carpet which
extended into the street. A crowd was gathered
about the door to see them alight. He passed into
the broad and lofty hall, with large vases and graceful
statues rising around, and crowded with rows of
handsome men, glittering in liveries of velvet and
gold. Ascending the low flight of richly-carpeted
steps, and passing through an antechamber and
several other ample and magnificently furnished
rooms, of which the air was full of incense, and still
between files of domestics, stationed at short intervals
from each other, he at length reached that one
where such of the guests as were already arrived
awaited the coming of the rest. Count Carolan received
him at the door in the most gracious manner,
and, after shaking him heartily by the hand, led
him forward, and presented him to the countess:

a very fine-looking woman of five-and-forty, whose
unobtrusive dress and affable manners pleased him
at once. She made the usual inquiries, and was
evidently struck with his distinguished appearance.
He had time, however, to extend to her but a few
brief remarks, when Carolan, taking him again by
the arm, brought him to Madame Wharton, whose
face lighted with pleasure at the sight of him.
With a single shake of the hand, and a greeting on
either side more than friendly, he was led on and
presented to several other distinguished persons, on
whom he had called in the morning.

“But where is my daughter—where's Ida?” said
Carolan. “Oh—I see—let me beg you—my dear
—Mr. Wyndham.”

Claude turned and bowed, scarcely seeing to
whom, for the girlish figure to whom these words
were addressed was facing a lady who occupied a
seat by her on a divan. She lifted her eyes with a
slight salutation, and Claude was about to address
her with some commonplace remark, when, with
great surprise, he perceived the image of the portrait,
perfect as if reflected in a mirror, except that
the smile, as it came and passed away—the eyes,
as they were raised and lowered again modestly,
beneath his unguarded look of astonishment, brought
to it new beauties—the charm of motion—the loveliness
which the rising colour and the low sweet
voice alone can give. It was not till Count Carolan
had twice repeated “Mr. Wyndham,” in the act
of presenting him to Lady Beverly, and uttered the
word “Lord Elkington,” that he recovered from his
surprise to perceive the form of Lady Beverly drawn
up coldly to his half unconscious greeting; and to
behold Elkington gazing at him through his glass,
and returning his bow with a reserve which, little
regarded at the time, was subsequently recalled to
memory.

At this moment a servant announced dinner. The

ladies, escorted by those whose rank entitled them
to the honour, led the way into the dining-room.
Elkington gave his arm to the young Countess Ida.
Madame Wharton was among the last. No one
seemed disposed to conduct her. She was, for a
moment, slightly embarrassed. Claude hastened to
her side, and in a few moments they were seated
next each other at table.

The dinner-service corresponded with the other
marks of the munificent host's wealth. A royal table
could scarcely be more superbly laid with gold
and silver, in striking forms and of rich workmanship.
All this was rendered more splendid by the size and
magnificence of the hall and its furniture, the exquisite
master-pieces of paintings which adorned the
walls, the rich ceilings and inlaid floor. The Countess
Ida sat opposite Claude, a little on his left, and
Madame Carolan on his right. The conversation,
instead of being general, divided itself into little coteries,
with as much freedom as if each were at a
table of his own. Claude glanced at the young
girl whose appearance had so much surprised him.
She was talking with Elkington. He could not
hear what they said, but the tones of a sweet voice
reached him. He looked at her with perfect impunity,
for she never turned her eyes towards him, and
was obviously unconscious of his presence, as of
his existence. He watched her features to behold
if the faultless perfection, which rendered them so
lovely in repose, disappeared when she spoke or
laughed. But no; the charm which the artist had
seized was but a small part of that with which Heaven
had invested her. There was as much to bewilder
in the tone of her voice as in the expression
of her eyes. There was as much danger in her
motion as in the outline of her face and form. Who
could the stranger be who had so impudently misinformed
him? What was his reason? His eye
passed from her form and countenance to that of

her companion, Lord Elkington. There was something
in him which displeased him, he scarce knew
why. He was aroused by Madame Wharton, who,
in a tone full of playful kindness, uttered the word
“Well!”

He started as if detected in some culpable action.

“Upon my word,” said she, laughing, “you are
caught at last.”

“Indeed, madame,” said Claude, stammering in
spite of himself.

“Oh, monsieur — no apologies — no excuses.
Ought I not to say now, in my capacity of Mentor,
Are these the thoughts, oh Telemachus, which
should occupy the mind of the son of Ulysses?
Does it become you to yield at the first sight of the
enemy? you, who were so confident when no danger
was near?”

“I acknowledge, oh Mentor,” replied Claude,
laughing, “the justice of your reproof. It but shows,
by another example, how rash is youth in daring
danger, and how weak in overcoming it.”

“But, without jesting, how do you like my favourite.
Have I over-described her?”

“With your supernatural penetration,” said
Claude, “you would not believe me if I denied that
she greatly surpasses my expectations. But I am
already acquainted with her countenance.”

“You have seen the portrait, taken by the Professor
—. It is to appear at the exhibition.”

“And the gentleman is your famous Lord Elkington?”

“It is. How do you like him?”

Claude hesitated.

“Remember, you are my pupil,” continued she.
“I must have no secrets.”

“If I dared to form or express an opinion on such
slight grounds,” said Claude, “and in so short a
time.”

“You may express any opinion to me,” said Madame
Wharton; “I assure you I shall be discreet.”

“Well, then, I don't like him!”

“It is curious,” said Madame Wharton, “but he
makes the same impression upon me. At first I
liked him much. But, the more I see him, the more
this favourable impression wears off.”

“Shall I not be taking too great a liberty in asking
whether she is actually affianced?”

“It is so nearly settled that I regard it as irrevocable.
The count is very anxious. Madame de
Carolan is always submissive to her husband's
wishes, and Lady Beverly is singularly interested.”

“But the young lady herself?”

“Young ladies, in this part of the world, have not
much to say on these subjects. She would as soon
think of disobeying her parents in any other affair
of life as in this. She has been brought up so.
She considers it her duty, and I believe she would
sacrifice anything to that.”

“This will be a sacrifice, then?”

“Oh no, I do not say that; on the contrary, she
is evidently attached to Lord Elkington!”

If Claude had not before perceived that he was
considerably interested in the questions he was putting,
the disappointment which came over him, as
he received this annunciation, would have convinced
him. He turned his eyes upon her again. She
was still talking with Elkington. He had just said
something, apparently, which surprised and pleased
her; and she had drawn a little back, and was looking
in his face with an expression of earnest delight
and animation. There was in her countenance a
certain expression of confiding familiarity. He
withdrew his glance, determined to look no more.
He occupied himself the rest of the hour with Madame
Wharton, who gave him much information respecting
the principal persons at table; among whom
were many of the foreign ministers, some celebrated
travellers, the most fashionable women of the societé,
and two or three individuals who had a European

reputation, and whose names were destined to be
familiar to posterity.

The dinner was over in a short time. The gentlemen
rose with the ladies, and all adjourned once
more to the drawing-room, where coffee, &c., were
taken, during a conversation more social and gay
than that which had preceded the dinner. Claude
spoke again with Carolan, and with several others
who recognised him, or to whom he was presented.
Among them were several dashing young men. He
remarked particularly Count de Lavalle, Lord Beaufort,
and a Mr. Thomson. They were extremely
polite, particularly the latter, who begged to be presented
to him. He offered, in a very pressing manner,
all kinds of services and counsel, and asked to
be permitted the pleasure of calling on him at his
hotel. Lord Beaufort, after the usual greeting,
merely remarked that it was “devilish stupid;”
that “the people seemed all dying of ennui;” that
he thought “the dinner would last an eternity.”
Lavalle informed Claude that a fine opera was to be
given at six, which would be attended by “everybody.”
Two or three ambassadors, and other leaders
of the ton, told him they should be most happy
to see him at their houses on certain evenings of the
week; and both Madame and Monsieur Carolan
were particular in making him promise to come the
next evening at nine to their ball and supper, of
which they gave one a week through the winter.
While he was talking with Countess Carolan, the
latter called Ida to say something to her which demanded
a reply, and led to a kind of dispute. Claude
was appealed to. A feeling, not unnatural in one of
his character, but very ridiculous, threw over him a
kind of reserve—a hauteur—when he found himself
compelled to address her. As if she supposed this
either his natural manner, or perhaps timidity, with
a sweetness of nature which touched him with compunction
even while he replied, she added a few

words, which he answered with a distant politeness
so different from his air while conversing with others,
that the young girl observed it. A colour rose
to her cheek, and, as two persons who felt that there
was no congeniality between them, and almost a
dislike, they parted. A few moments afterward,
while he was laughing and talking very gayly with
a lovely woman, he saw Ida sitting alone; then
Elkington approached her, her face lighted up, and
he felt that this handsome young lord possessed her
affection.