University of Virginia Library

33. XXXIII.
The Countess and the Count.

Limayrac.

I WISH to relieve my sensitive reader. Wilhelmina
has forsaken the paternal mansion by
stealth; but Wilhelmina is a Countess! It is on
her card, and her card is in the porcelain plate
upon Mrs. Fudge's table; and the servants are
instructed to speak of her as the Countess, and
no longer as Wilhelmina. To prevent confusion, I
shall still speak of her myself, as Wilhelmina. The
card alluded to, reads in this way:—

“née Fudge.”

It is a pretty card, and useful. There is a crest at
the top of it.

The circumstances connected with this sudden
bridal were made known in a plaintive letter from
Wilhelmina addressed to her bereaved parents
jointly. Young Spindle, she assured them, was
out of the question; she could never, never love
him. The Count Salle, who was now her devoted
husband, she had been attached to for a long time.
In marrying another she felt that she would do a
great wrong to her own heart. She had fondly
hoped that he might have won his way into the
confidence of her dear papa, and so secured his consent;
but foreseeing that her dear papa was unalterable
in his opposition, she had at length given
her consent to a clandestine marriage.

She assured them of the profound attachment
of the Count both to herself and to the family interests;
and she did hope that he would be received,
ere long, with open arms, by her forgiving parents.
The Count had, with a great deal of frankness and
candor, told her of “his comparatively limited
means;” it was his intention to call upon her
father, in reference to certain necessary business
arrangements; and she did hope “that papa would
receive him as a son, whose interest was now closely
cemented to the family.”

The Count himself was one of those adventurous
European gentlemen, who, having exhausted the
greatest part of his means and character in the
pleasures of the old world, had determined to commence
afresh upon the American side. The reported
successes of sundry old friends, and the admiration
which American ladies were understood to
entertain for titles, encouraged him to hope for
favor. Reasoning like most Europeans, he had
counted the Fudge display as evidence of great
wealth, and had long ago fastened his affections
upon the artless Wilhelmina, as one fitted to adorn
his home and to equip his rank.

The appearance of the Guerlin had not a little
disconcerted him. I have frequently had occasion
to observe that our most favorite and popular
exiles are exceedingly shy of their brother nobles.
It must be remembered, however, that rank implies
a certain degree of exclusiveness; and exclusiveness
implies more or less of distance.

The Count was distant to the Countess; whether
he distrusted her, or feared that she might have
a distrust of him, I cannot say. It is certain that
he thought it safer to urge matters with the
attractive Wilhelmina, and bring the affair to a
crisis. Having secured that accomplished young
lady, he took an early occasion to make an expiatory

call upon Mr. Solomon Fudge; and used the
same opportunity to open negotiations with that
gentleman, with respect to certain marriage-settlements
upon the daughter.

My uncle Solomon was certainly relieved to find
that the affair wore the regimen of an orderly and
legal marriage; and the announcement of the event
under the usual head in his favorite morning paper,
took a heavy load off his mind. As for Mrs.
Fudge, she was excessively charmed by the half
column in the Herald, which was headed, “Clandestine
Marriage in Upper Tendom.”

But the old gentleman's gratification at learning
of the legality of the affair was not by any means
so extravagant as to work itself off in any large
moneyed advances to the Count. His notion of
marriage was wholly different from that of his
European son-in-law. He had married himself in
those old-fashioned times when men supported their
wives, and not wives their husbands. It seemed to
him an orderly and business-like way. He should
have no objection to endorse for a limited sum,
in favor of the Count, provided he should enter
upon a safe and remunerative business. He thought
the Count's knowledge of French might qualify him
for a position in some foreign shipping-houses, which
he was good enough to name.

The Count swore fearfully.

My uncle Solomon was unruffled; his manner
was entirely calm; he sat in his usual position; he
turned his gold-bowed spectacles end for end, with
nice regularity, upon his office-table.

The Count grew insolent, and wished to know if
Mr. Fudge was aware that he had done an honor to
the family in marrying his daughter?

My uncle Solomon said “he was not;” and
turned the gold-bowed spectacles end for end.

The Count said he had sacrificed his rank to his
affections.

Mr. Fudge said he “was sorry for it.”

The Count said, “enfin, Mr. Fudge, I have
marry your daughter, as you ver well know; will
you now make settlement upon her, like one gentleman?”

Mr. Fudge turned the gold-bowed spectacles end
for end, very composedly, and said he regretted that
he should be able “to do no such thing.”

“Ver well! ver well!” said the Count, with a
very quick utterance, “I will make you know of it,
Mr. Fudge!” And the Count passed out of the
office, shaking his light walking-stick, gracefully
mounted with an opera-dancer's leg in ivory, in the
most violent manner.

The Count Salle had shown himself to be a somewhat

dangerous man in his aggressions upon female
character; but I think my uncle Solomon had a considerable
contempt for his powers or capacity in any
other direction. I think that after the disappearance
of his noble son-in-law, he replaced his spectacles
upon his nose, and reverted to his morning
paper (perhaps with a stifled fatherly sigh in favor
of “poor Wilhe!”) in his usual composed manner.

Yet my uncle Solomon was very vulnerable: a man
whose Wall street engagements are large, especially
in Dauphin or Cumberland, is always vulnerable.
But who, or what was the Count, to disturb
the speculations, or to break upon the quietude of the
bank-officer of Wall street? Money makes a stout
panoply against any shafts that come from beggars;
and even the reputation of riches is a shield that no
poor man can easily pierce through.

Poor uncle Solomon, sitting in his bank-chair,
looking through his gold bowed spectacles, reading
his morning paper, forgets that he is a father; he
feels strong in his reputation at “the Board;”
money is still his idol.

The Count has fallen in very naturally, and in a
fraternal way, with Washington Fudge. The
Count has formed his own ideas of that young
gentleman's intimacy with the Countess de Guerlin;
judging, perhaps, from some previous knowledge of

that lady's character; judging, perhaps, from the
vivacious temperament of the young gentleman;
judging, perhaps—erroneously.

He, however, cultivates a familiarity very flattering
to his brother-in-law. Washington even grows
proud of the connection, and is sponsor for a great
many opera-house tickets, which serve the bridal
pair and himself, jointly. It is rather a feather in
his cap, to stroll down Broadway arm-in-arm with
the Count, meeting the Spindles or the Pinkertons,
as the case may be, in an ineffable French manner.
He even cuts some of his older hum-drum acquaintances,
and loans small sums to the Count. He
thinks the old gentleman will “poney up,” sooner or
later. It looks very much as if it would be later.

He finds, indeed, the old gentleman rather crusty
with himself; he is compelled to abandon the
thought once entertained, of a fast trotter and
wagon. He abandons, at the same time, an opening
in a down-town counting-room, secured to him
by the efforts of my uncle Solomon. He is, in
short, reduced to great straits to “raise the needful.”
He gets a hint, meantime, from the Count,
of the small dealings “on time” at the Board. He
knows something from the wise ones, of the occasional
appearance of his father at that market. He
indulges in a quiet way, under the advices of the

Count, and proves very successful. He fancies he
has a tact for those things. I never knew a dealer
in the stocks, who did not fancy that he had a
certain tact.

If Washington lacked confirmation, from his own
experience, he would have been supplied by the
complimentary advances of his noble friend, the
Count. At length, however, Mr. Washington does
make an error—he loses—loses largely—he is positively
without funds.

The Count said it was unfortunate—“ver unfortunate;”
and all the more so, because a new mining-stock
(I think it was lead, zinc, and copper combined)
was about to be offered at the Board—a few
thousand shares only—sold by stress of circumstances
(as such great stocks usually are), and warranting
immense returns. The Count thought seventy
per cent., at the very least. It was understood
that a bishop had recommended it, and held a few
shares. A certain vestry-man of high moral worth
vouched for it. A late Governor had written a
letter, in which he said that “if he ever dealt in
stocks (which he did not), he did not know of
one which, by the promises extended, gave reason
for a holder to anticipate so enormous a return.”

The Herald said it had been noised that a holder
in the Lead, Zinc, and Copper Mining Company,

would offer a certain number of shares at the Board.
The statement, however, must be received with distrust.
From inquiry, the commercial editor had
ascertained that the report was fabricated by
persons interested in a rival company; no shares
in the fore-mentioned mine were to be had for
“love or money.”

The Count knew better. If he had ten thousand
dollars by him, he could make thirty. He hadn't
it by him. Neither had Wash.

A thought struck the Count. Twenty days
would turn the profit. Could Wash make a loan
for twenty days only? Washington didn't think he
could.

The Count suggested that Mr. Fudge's paper
(the elder) was current in the street. Washington
supposed so.

The Count suggested that a small note for ten
thousand dollars, at twenty days, in his father's
name, signed—as a matter of form—by Washington—for
his father, would be sufficient to raise the
wind. In less than twenty days the paper could be
taken up, and he, Wash, might pocket a pretty
profit of from ten to fifteen thousand dollars, at the
very least.

Washington demurred somewhat. But the Count
was an artist in his talk, and presently rounded the

belief of the banker's son into his own shape of
thinking.

The paper was drawn up, and my accomplished
cousin Wash put his father's name—in a hand very
like the old gentleman's—to a “promise to pay,”
twenty days after date, the sum of ten thousand
dollars.

Uncle Solomon at that very time was passing his
gold-bowed spectacles end for end upon his office-table,
and remarking, to a brother banker, in his
stately way, that crime was frightfully on the
increase.

“The habits of our young people are growing
very extravagant,” said the brother banker.

“I think they are,” said my uncle Solomon.

And I believe he was honest.