The Countess Ida :: :: University of Virginia Library

“I have been requested to bring you this evening
with us to Madame de B—'s. Will you go?
Come to us, then, in half an hour. She is the lady
of the — ambassador, and she will expect you.
Adieu! I shall see you presently.”

Carolan then came out, and also said a few words
to Claude.

“You are to go with madame this evening to
Madame de B—'s. I am engaged; you will be
her chevalier.”

“I am too happy to be at her orders,” said Claude.

The footman now came up with the cloaks, and
announced the carriage.

Ida's “good-night” to Claude in his own language
sounded like music.

“Dieu! est elle belle?” said Lavalle, kissing the
ends of his gloved fingers, and turning up his eyes
in a sort of half affected rapture.

“She's well enough,” said Beaufort, “but her face
is silly. It wants expression.”

“Good-evening, mem!” said Mrs. Digby, as she
caught the eye of Ida; and then, brushing by Lady
Beverly, she followed the footman to her carriage,
while Digby, with Mary, came after.

The Carolans had gone on, and were out of sight
as Elkington came out of the box so as to meet
Mary. He stopped her.

“I hope you are well this evening, and that you
will permit me to call and make my excuses to you
for the apparent rudeness of which I was guilty the
other day?”

“Oh yes — always — certainly—my lord,” said
Mary, with a deep blush.

“Indeed, I shall take the liberty very soon,” said
he; and with a look of admiration, and without looking
at Claude, he gave his arm to his mother and
passed on.

The young men accompanied Claude a part of
the way to his hotel, and made various comments,
with much zest, upon persons, male and female, of
the society whose acquaintance he had not yet formed.
Monsieur de This, Mademoiselle de That, and
Madame de the Other, were here arraigned with
very little ceremony, and were occasionally dismissed

with a lively or facetious estimate, probably far
short of their respective opinions of themselves.

The invitation which Claude had received from
Madame de Carolan was given and accepted in a
minute, and he scarcely understood its import.

Was he to escort that lady to Madame de B—'s?
and was Ida to be of the party?

The necessary alterations in his toilet were soon
made. In less than half an hour he was at Carolan's.
Ida and her father were in the drawing-room.

“You come in time,” said the count, “for I must
go;” and he left them almost immediately. Claude
found himself alone with the person with whom, in
spite of his general good sense and his sober principle
of right, he was, each hour, each moment, becoming
more fascinated. A short conversation ensued.
Claude was reserved and distant. He was
determined to give no token of the power which this
young girl already began to exercise over him. His
courtesy, while it was all that a gentleman could
bestow, made her think his character haughty and
his heart cold.

Their short interview was presently interrupted
by the entrance of Madame Wharton, and then of
the countess, and the carriage was announced at the
same moment. On their way to Madame de B—'s
a lively conversation was carried on between the
countess and himself. Ida remained silent. It was
the first time she had ever found herself almost
proudly repulsed, and her glance, so much valued,
so gratefully acknowledged by all she had met before,
not only unsought, but apparently undesired.
A feeling of dislike arose in her heart, but it was
mingled with pique and curiosity. With all her advantages
of person and character, she had a modest
opinion of herself; and it could not enter into her
inexperienced mind that the young stranger, who
almost rudely withdrew from her careless affability,
was more capable of appreciating her and more

ready to admire, than any one she had met before,
and that it was a consciousness of her power and
his own danger which repelled a man of honour
from her side. Once, as a lamp cast its light upon
her face through the carriage window, Claude fixed
his eyes upon it, himself in the shadow. It was
thoughtful as of one alone, and as touched with perfect
beauty as a head by Guido. A sentiment of
admiration, of love, entered his breast. He felt
himself in the presence of one formed to impress
and sway him with a word or look, and yet so far
beyond his reach that it was a crime to think of
her. There was something in this hopeless passion—thus
full-born within him in an instant, as if
by inspiration—for a being so exalted, so lovely,
so guarded by all the haughty distinctions of rank
and wealth—which suited his romantic and melancholy
nature, his passionate and high imagination.
His course through the world had been alone. It
had been like a wanderer in a bark over a dark sea,
without companion by his side or light above; and
this young girl broke upon him like a star, whose
loved beams, however distant, however cold, might
cheer his gloom and guide him on his solitary track.
The spell was thrown over him in that careless moment.
He yielded that kind of tender and unqualified
worship which is one of the charms of youth,
genius, and purity of character.

At the Countess de B—'s he found all the society
assembled. The affable hosts received him
with pleasure. The half dozen saloons and ballroom
were thronged. He recognised, in a distant
corner of the room, Lady Beverly seated, with her
glass to her eye, and peering at him through the
crowd with an earnest watchfulness of his motions,
which again surprised him.

Presently Lavalle addressed him.

“You don't dance?”

“Oh yes!”

“Let me make you acquainted with Mademoiselle
de Vigne.” The young lady was very pretty and
lovely, and spoke English perfectly well. She
had dark hair and eyes, and appeared enjoying a
state of health and spirits which had never been
disturbed by a care.

“You are very much lié with the Carolans,” said
she, as they paused in the dance.

“I like them much.”

“And what an angel Ida is!”

“Do you think her pretty?”

“Oh! I think her the most perfect creature in
the whole world; do not you?”

“She is certainly pretty,” said Claude, smiling
at her enthusiasm.

“Oh, I am sure. Such a heavenly countenance
—such an angelic figure—such a beautiful manner
—and then, oh Dieu! she draws and plays—and
sings and dances—all the gentlemen are in love
with her. They say a great many have broken
their hearts for her.”

“Yes?”

“Oh yes. Her father is an excellent person—but,
oh Dieu! so proud. But she has made a superb
partie, and she is so happy—everybody adores her!”

“Lord Elkington, then, is certainly going to marry
her?”

“Oh dear, yes.”

“And is she attached to Lord Elkington?”

“Oh, certainly. How can she help it? Do you
not think him very handsome?”

“Rather so.”

“And such a delightful person—so amiable—so
lovely and clever—such a good-hearted man—what
a beautiful and happy couple they will make! I
assure you, they are the talk and admiration of everybody;
and then Lady Beverly—such a charming
woman!”

Claude could not but compare the artlessness of

this pretty child—who had known nothing of life but
its joys, and who was just emerging from the shelters
of her home into a world which she expected
to find for ever all sunshine and flowers—with Beaufort,
who piqued himself upon being blasé.

“Are you acquainted with Madame Wharton?”
asked she, after finishing another turn in the dance.

“Oh yes. She is a very great favourite of mine.”

“Everybody thinks her such an estimable woman.
She has brought Ida up so admirably—but do
you know,” she added, mysteriously, “that no one
can tell anything of her earlier history!”

“Indeed!”

“She was an English lady, they say—very rich
—but no one knows the least about her affairs.
They do say that—”

But here the fair narrator was obliged to resume
her dancing; and then the contre-dance was finished;
and then a tall, blooming-faced young officer,
with his clothes made very tight, so as to exhibit a
slender and elegant form to the utmost advantage,
came up in great haste, and claimed her hand for the
next dance, and Claude did not get near her again
during the evening, though he often saw her light
and girlish figure whirling in the waltz, in all the
unclouded enjoyment of innocence and youth.

Whenever Lavalle met him, he took occasion to
enter into conversation with him. He liked him
more and more, and discovered in him a mind superior
to the general order of more fashionable
men. Thomson annoyed him by a constant series
of civilities, which he could scarcely withdraw from,
as they seemed to be the result of an ever obliging
disposition. His principal pleasure, however, appeared
to be to talk of, or form a party at whist,
as this seemed to be the engrossing subject of his
reflection, and the principal enjoyment of his life.
In the course of the evening, Claude passed Elkington
several times without any sign of mutual recognition.

With Lady Beverly it was the same. She
was always stately and cold, and appeared to overlook
him, although more than once, when she did
not think herself observed, she regarded him with
a scrutiny for which he could not account.

At twelve the supper was over and the company
began to disperse. Claude found his ever faithful
Carl in the hall with his cloak, and was about returning
to his hotel, when Thomson insisted that he
should join Lavalle, Beaufort, and two or three others
at his rooms for a rubber of whist. Lavalle
urged his compliance. He found that Thomson,
who was an Englishman of respectable family,
lived with considerable style. A circle of young
men of independent fortune met there. Several
were elegant and highly cultivated persons, destined
subsequently to take their stand in the world,
and perhaps in history; while many were merely the
careless characters of a day, who pass their lives
without trouble or reflection, in a narrow circle of
amusements, taking little care to cultivate understandings
which they might have rendered useful
to their country. To him, however, they were all
alike affable, and he passed several gay hours at the
whist-table. They chatted, smoked, supped, and
played, and it was near three when Claude found
himself in the street alone on his return home.