University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

He was interrupted in his reveries by a sudden
burst of military music, and he presently found
himself arrived safe at a road which was thronged
by the beau monde who drive from the town, and,
leaving their carriages, here walk to enjoy the fresh
air and sunshine. At the present moment it was
occupied by a body of troops stationed on one side.
A crowd of spectators were ranged in a large square.
Among them he saw Digby with a party. They
were on the opposite side; and the honest fellow,
discovering Claude, immediately started to join him.
He took the shortest way, which was through the
hollow square. He had not advanced many steps
when two or three sub-officers shouted to him; then
two or three more. Not understanding the language,
and not supposing their shouts directed to
him, the honest fellow walked on, leisurely twirling
his glove, and his face lighted with pleasure at the
sight of his friend. His pertinacity, however, in
continuing to advance, after the sentinels had ordered
him to come back, awakened strong symptoms
of wrath in those arbitrary personages. Seven at a
time started off after the rebel who so coolly put
them and their commands at defiance. Digby had
got about two thirds of the way, when he was surprised
by a heavy blow across the shoulder, and, on
turning round, the self-satisfied smile at once vanished
from his countenance, as he beheld seven soldiers,
each nearly as many feet in height, the lower
part of their faces half hidden beneath mustaches,

and their countenances red and their eyes flashing
with rage, and making violent gesticulations at him,
in the course of which their drawn swords sometimes
flourished so near to his ears as to put him
in considerable trepidation. One took him by the
shoulder and twirled him round with little ceremony,
while he asked him a vociferous question totally
unintelligible, which he had scarcely heard, before
he was spun round by another, and then by a third,
to his infinite indignation and dismay. At length—
upon shouting out, at the top of his voice, in horrible
German, that he did not speak that language, and
making his persecutors comprehend that the reason
why he had not turned back when they called him,
was, that he did not understand what they said, or
knew that they were speaking to him—one gave him
a shove, and another honoured him with what was
very nearly a kick, and he was hauled and thrust
back into the nearest point of the crowd before
Claude could get to his aid.

“Did you ever—a—a—Mr.—a—a—Wyndham
—see anything—so—so—a—a—infamous as the
proceedings of those gentlemen? If I don't—a—a
—understand their—a—a—cursed, stupid language
—is that—a—a—reason—I appeal to you—for them
to—offer—a—a—a—to kick me in that style? If
there's justice in Europe, I'll—a—a—have it.”

It was with difficulty that Claude could refrain
from laughing at the intense indignation of his
friend; but he endeavoured to sooth him by telling
him that, after he had got through the French,
he could learn the German in a short time. If anything
could have added to Digby's rage, it was the
idea of learning more languages.

“No,” said he, “I have quite enough with the
French, I assure you; and a more ridiculous and—
a—a—a—absurd and—a—a—I never heard. The
infamous scoundrels! Ah! yonder comes my wife
with old `long pockets.' ”

As he spoke, Mrs. Digby, with her daughter and
Mr. Lippe, came up.

“Well, Mr. Wyndham,” said Mrs. Digby, “did
you ever see such an awful fool as John is? I told
him he could not go across there, and yet he thinks
he knows best. Did not you catch it, now? To be
kicked and cuffed in that style before all Berlin—
but he thinks nobody knows anything but himself.”

“Agreeable, ain't it?” said Digby, in a whisper.
“To be first knocked about like a shuttlecock by
those infernal scoundrels, and then bullied in this
style by one's wife. The fact is, Mrs. Digby's a
very excellent woman; but—”

And he placed his finger significantly on his forehead,
and made a grimace intended as an insinuation
against the sane state of that lady's understanding.

“But bless me! how pale you are, Mr. Wyndham!”
said Mrs. Digby. “You must be unwell!”

“No, not in the least!”

“You do, indeed, look very pale,” said Mary.

“Now join us—do; and take a little walk—do,”
said Mrs. Digby. “It'll do you good, I'm sure it will.
Mary, take Mr. Wyndham's arm. Now I sha'n't
wait for an invitation. Any one as knows me knows
I'm all above board, and no nonsense; so I'll take
the other. Now, John, you and old Lippe can take
a stroll across the square, if you've a mind to, and
have another tussle with those gentlemen. Ha!
ha! ha!”

“I must say, my dear,” said Digby, “that I think
your — a — a — wit is considerably more—a—a—
conspicuous than your—a—a—manners.”

“By-the-way, they say your great friend, my Lord
Elkington, is getting on famously. They say his
father's at the last gasp.”

“Do you call that getting on famously?” said
Claude.

“Why, he thinks so, I'll be sworn,” said Mrs.

Digby. “They say that they ain't the peaceablest
family in the world, and, when the old fellow pops
off, then my lord will be the Earl of Beverly, and so
rich that he won't be able to count the guineas.”

“But, holla!” said Digby, “here he comes on
horseback.”

“And the whole set of them,” said Mrs. Digby.

As she spoke, Elkington and Carolan, with Ida
between them, rode up. The Digbys saluted them
very ostentatiously. Ida bowed. Her eyes fell on
Claude, and her sunshiny smile went to his heart.
It had been his first impulse to step back, so as not
to be seen with Miss Digby, after the report which
he had just heard was current upon the subject;
but he remembered himself in time to prevent such
a step, which, trifling as it was, would not have been
in strict accordance with his promise. She saw
him, therefore. He bowed carelessly. It seemed
as if Mary hung more closely on his arm as she
passed. He saw that Ida had perceived her, and
that it would confirm her belief. Elkington and
Carolan both evidently recognised the party, but
neither bowed; and, as they were riding at a brisk
pace, they were soon out of sight.

“Well, she is a pretty creature,” said Digby,
“and a kind one.”

“Do you go to Monsieur de B—'s to-night?”
asked Claude, by way of saying something.

“Not I,” said Digby, bluntly. “I go nowhere
in society again.”

“Well, I do,” said Mrs. Digby, bridling up.

“As you please, Mrs. Digby—as you please—
but I don't—and that's as unchangeable—as—as—
a—a—I don't budge an inch.”

“Are you to be there, Mr. Wyndham?” inquired
Mrs. Digby.

“Yes, madam!” said Claude.

“Well, I sha'n't,” said Digby.

“Now, my dear papa—”

“Now, John—”

“I've said, it, ma'am,” said Digby, with an air of
fierce determination. “I'll have nothing more to
do with your ho-tong. Why, a man can't even sit
down there, sir, and he can't stand up, for fear of—
a—a—turning his back to some one; and he can't
go away, for fear of leaving some one behind him;
and he can't walk, for fear—of—a—a—finding some
one—a—a—before him; and I can't dance, and I
can't talk. I lost thirty Louis the other night by
attempting to play. Thirty Louis in—a—a—a—
one night!”

“John,” said Mrs. Digby, “how can you be such
a fool?”

“Well, fool or no fool, Mrs. D., I tell you, once
for all, I won't go. I won't — a — a — a — go —
ma'am.”

“Why, mamma,” said Mary, as if suddenly
struck with a good idea, “why can't Mr. Wyndham
take us? He just said he was going, and we
can call for him in our carriage!”

“Why, good Lord! so we can,” said Mrs. Digby;
“what a set of fools we are, to be sure. Certainly
—plain as day. Pray do us the kindness, Mr.
Wyndham.”

“If you please, madam,” said Claude; and he
reflected upon the pleasure his appearance with
them would give Madame Wharton; how it would
gratify Elkington and Lady Beverly; how it would
confirm the opinion and alienate the feelings of Ida.
It was arranged, therefore, according to the proposal
of Mary, that he should attend the Digbys to
Monsieur de B—'s, the minister.

Claude now looked up from a brown study, and
observed Monsieur Lippe, to whom he addressed
some commonplace observation.

“Ah! you've got hold of our Mr. Lippe, have
you?” said Mrs. Digby. “Well, he's a droll fellow,
to be sure. You needn't look so astonished;

he don't understand a word we say, poor devil. It's
just like being with a dumb beast. He's a most
useful person, though, I assure you. He lives with
us now altogether.”

“Indeed!”

“Oh, yes. He interprets for us—teaches us German
and French—does a great many useful jobs
about the house—orders the things we want from
the shops—buys everything—pays all our bills—
makes all our bargains—and reads the French tactics
to Mary.”

“The French tactics!”

“Classics, mamma,” said Mary.

“Well, child—classics—tactics—it's all the same,
you know, in Dutch; we never stir without him;
in short, he's our right-hand man—our chief cook
and bottle-washer; and, what's very remarkable,
too, he doesn't charge scarcely anything for his services.
He only gets three thalers a week, besides
his board. He offered to come for that; and it was
so scandalously cheap, I could not refuse it. Now
this was one of my bargains. It would have been
a long while before John would have had the wit to
make such a one.”

“Yes, a confounded long while,” said Digby.

“I believe he knows everybody and everything
in the world. He is the most agreeable, honest,
simple creature. He has, I assure you, no more
idea of taking care of himself than a child of six.
The other day I gave him twelve groschen to buy
something for himself; and what do you think—he
came and returned me back a groschen, saying he
had got the article for eleven. He is the greatest
prize in the world; and we're so much pleased with
him, that I made John let him go to a tailor and
choose himself a complete suit of clothes. You see
he's very fine about these days.”

Indeed, now that his attention was directed towards
him, Claude observed that he was certainly

improved in appearance. He was very showily
dressed, in the height of the fashion; smelled strongly
of eau de Cologne, and had more the air of a dandy
than a person of his unobtrusive profession. Thus
apparelled, he had assumed the character of a favourite
steward or man of charge, taking this interesting
family under his guidance as we see a
cicerone take a party of bewildered and obedient
travellers. Sometimes he made them stop to point
out the residence of a great man; sometimes to call
their attention to a view through the long arcades
of trees, which here and there, like the aisles of a
Gothic church, extend for a mile or two beneath
the arched branches, till the straight line fades to a
point in the perspective. Here he made them walk
a long way round to avoid a damp place, and there
he conducted them, even contrary to their wishes,
where they might feel the sunshine. But what
pleased Madame Digby more than all was, that he
frequently addressed the family, or spoke of them
as “monseigneur” and “milady.” In short, Mr.
Lippe was fairly installed, and began to grow fat
and sleek upon sleep, cessation from care, and hearty
living. His late meager face had filled up into a
very respectable outline; and his complexion, from
a dry olive, had assumed a more rubicund and greasy
look.

No one gave more elegant soirées than Monsieur
de B—, and he received in the same splendid
manner once a week. In the evening, as had been
arranged, the Digbys called for Claude, and he accompanied
them to one of those entertainments.
Often before had he entered this spacious palace,
and ascended to those very rooms with a heart beating
with hope and love. How bitterly did he now
lament his folly in having indulged such dreams
and still more in having betrayed them to the confiding
girl whom he was now to meet with assumed
coldness! How strange was his position. In order

to be worthy of her, he was to throw her away.
His clear reason whispered that the surest way to
leave her to happiness was to inflict upon her what
he knew would be a severe present misery. It is
not every young lover who would have the resolution
to attempt such an undertaking.

“Yes,” he reflected, as he ascended the steps, “I
will render myself despicable in her eyes; and, when
I see she despises me, I will leave her and these
scenes for ever.”

And, amid gay voices and happy smiles, the
forms of the careless crowd pressing by him in their
pursuit of pleasure, and the music from the distant
ballroom already floating on the air, with Mrs. Digby
on one side of him and Mary on the other, he
entered the saloons of Monsieur de B—.