Maurice arrived in Washington without having apprised his father of his purposed visit. Count Tristan received him with ill-concealed embarrassment; but the young viscount was too ingenuous himself, and therefore too unsuspicious of others, for him to attribute his father's discomposure to any source but surprise at his unexpected appearance. If Maurice noted an absence of pleasure in the count's constrained greeting, he was too much accustomed to the formal and undemonstrative manners of the aristocracy to dwell upon the lack of warmth.
The count had taken up his residence at Brown's hotel. He chanced to be sitting alone when his son was ushered into the drawing-room. The opportunity was a favorable one for Maurice to communicate to his father the object of his visit.
After the first salutations were over, he inquired, rather abruptly, "Have you seen Mr. Hilson? What does he say in regard to the probabilities that the railroad will take the direction which we so much desire?"
"Our prospects are tolerably good," returned the count; "but we need to exert ourselves, and, possibly, you may be of service. The committee that has the decision in its hands consists of nine persons. Out of these, four have declared their preference for the road to the right, and are immovable. Our friends, Meredith and Hilson, who are on the committee, vote, of course, for the left road; then there are two rival bankers, Mr. Gobert and Mr. Gilmer, who are bitterly opposed to each other, and generally vote in opposition one to the other; we must bring some agency into play which will induce them, for once, to vote alike."
"That seems indispensable; but is it possible?" questioned Maurice.
"I trust so. Mr. Gobert is the banker of the Marquis de Fleury, who exerts unbounded power over him. One word from the marquis, and Gobert's vote is secured. The marquis, as every one is aware, can always be approached through Madame de Fleury. Obtainherpromise that we shall have Mr. Gobert's vote, and it is ours! The marchioness, I fear, may not have forgiven Bertha's rejection of her brother's suit; but, as both parties are still unmarried and unengaged, if she can only be convinced that Bertha's refusal was mere girlish caprice, and that there is still hope of the young duke's success, she will be ready enough to serve us."
"But is there hope?" inquired Maurice, quite innocently.
The wily schemer replied by a glance half-angry, half-contemptuous; but, without making any other answer, went on.
"The other banker, Mr. Gilmer, I am seeking the means to influence. I have no doubt that I shall find them. The ninth member of the committee is Mr. Rutledge, quite a young man, the only son and heir of a Washington millionnaire. I learn, from M. de Bois, that Rutledge is deeply enamored of the sister of Lord Linden."
"I beg pardon, but you have not yet told me who Lord Linden is; and it is so unusual to hearlordsmentioned in this country that my ears are quite unattuned to the sound of a title."
Another hasty look from the count might have been interpreted into one of slight disgust. His son was far more Americanized than he could have desired. He went on, with increased haughtiness.
"The English ambassador to the United States married a sister of Lord Linden, and his lordship and a younger sister accompanied them to Washington. Mr. Rutledge aspires to the hand of this young lady,—so says M. de Bois, who is intimately acquainted with her brother. If she can be interested in our plans the vote of Mr. Rutledge is easily secured."
Maurice could not help laughing.
"It is,in reality, the votes ofwomen, then, that are to determine the direction of this road? I ought hardly to be surprised atthat; for, if they have feeble voices in other lands, they have very decided ones in America. But how is the young lady in question to be reached?"
"That is what I am pondering upon," resumed his father."I shall form some plan, you may be sure; and no time must be wasted in carrying it into execution. I have already ventured to touch upon the subject to Lord Linden, but have not said anything definite. It is a difficult affair to conduct delicately; yet the obtaining of these votes is of such vital importance that we must strain every nerve to secure them."
"Certainly, since it will more than treble the value of the property," observed Maurice, placidly. "By the by, I presume you have had no occasion to use the power of attorney which I gave you? Just at this moment it is very fortunate for me that the estate is wholly unencumbered."
The count grew ashy pale; but Maurice did not observe his change of color, nor mark the hesitating tone in which he replied, "Very fortunate, of course,—very fortunate, indeed;" and then, looking at his watch, he added, "It is time for your grandmother and Bertha to return. Lord Linden and M. de Bois escorted them to the capitol. You must be impatient to see them."
"In regard to this property, Mr. Lorrillard informs me," resumed Maurice; but the count interrupted him.
"A visit to Madame de Fleury is now the first step to be taken;thereyou may be useful; you are such a decided favorite of hers, that your advocacy may be inestimable. Suppose you call at once, and learn at what hour she will receive your grandmother, Bertha, and myself. A visit from you will open the way."
"I will call with pleasure," answered Maurice. "I have a letter from Mr. Lorrillard to his friend Mr. Emerson, which I should like to deliver without delay. It is a matter of business. Mr. Lorrillard thinks that, as my estate is wholly unencumbered"—
"We can talk of that at another time," replied the count, hurriedly. "Suppose you pay your visit to the marchioness at once. It is hardly worth while waiting for the ladies; no one can tell when they may return."
Maurice, though he could not interpret the count's singular manner, could not even remotely divine the meaning of its abruptness and confusion, felt himself checked in his proposed communication. He experienced no uneasiness; he had not the faintest conception that the count was dealing doubly with him, and that his very first act, on reaching Washington, had been to mortgage the estate of his son for so large amount that, but for the advent of the railroad, upon which he confidently calculated,the mortgage must prove ruinous to the interests of the landholder.
Had Maurice been aware of this fact, he would not for a moment have contemplated delivering to Mr. Emerson Mr. Lorrillard's letter, in which it was distinctly stated that the property of the viscount was without lien.
Further discussion between the father and son was prevented by the entrance of the countess, accompanied by Lord Linden, and followed by Bertha and Gaston de Bois.
Maurice, as he saluted his grandmother, was gratified to observe that, albeit her air was by no means less stately, it was more satisfied and complacent. Though titled nobility had no native existence in the semi-civilized land, she rejoiced to find that it was sometimesimported. She had at last encountered an individual with whom she could associate without derogation. The French, as all the world knows, have a national antipathy towards the English; but a nobleman, even though he chanced to be an Englishman, was hailed by the Countess de Gramont, upon American soil, as a God-send. Lord Linden was not aware of the compliment implied by the unwonted graciousness of her demeanor, and the tone ofalmostequality in which she addressed him.
Maurice comprehended the altered expression that softened his grandmother's countenance, but was struck and amazed by the wonderful radiance of Bertha's face. Her eyes shone as though a veritable sun lived behind those azure heavens, and almost annihilated their color by its brightness; her lips were eloquent with a voiceless happiness they did not care to hide, yet could not speak; the laughing dimples played perpetually about her softly suffused cheeks; her elastic feet almost danced, so airy was their tread; about her whole presence there was a buoyant glow that seemed to encompass her with an atmosphere of light and warmth.
She had not attempted to disguise her joy on again meeting Gaston de Bois; and, though he had paid them repeated visits during their sojourn in Washington, there was always the same deepening of the hue upon Bertha's cheek; the same flood of sunshine brightening over her face; the same softening of the tones of her voice; the same quickened rise and fall of her fair bosom when he approached.
And he,—did he not note these betraying indications of his own power? Did they strike no electric thrill through his rejoicing soul? If they did, he was too much bewildered by a happiness so unexpected to search out calmly the hidden meaning of these precious signs.
The change in the deportment and character of M. de Bois, which we described at its commencement, was now fully confirmed; and though the blood still sprang too rapidly into his face, and his breathing grew labored with emotion, and his manner, especially in Bertha's presence, was slightly confused, it was the confusion of elation rather than embarrassment. The self-control he had acquired had almost overcome his propensity to stammer, and Bertha was unreasonable enough to half regret that she could no longer finish his sentences, and thus prove how instinctively she divined his thoughts.
Maurice greeted her, as was his cousinly wont after a separation, with a kiss on either cheek; but, for the first time, she shrank from his touch, and her ingenuous eyes involuntarily glanced toward Gaston, then were quickly cast down; and the mutinous ringlets that had, as usual, escaped from bondage, were a welcome veil, as they fell over her face.
"Why, little Bertha, has an absence of four years made you forget that we are cousins?" asked Maurice, in surprise at her manner.
"No—no," she answered, shaking back the curls, and looking up brightly in his face; "and I am rejoiced that you have come to Washington: it is a delightful place; I am charmed with everything I see."
Did Bertha reflect how much the charm of a locality depends upon our own internal condition? Was she aware that any place, however tame and dull, becomes delightful through the presence of one who creates in us a state receptive of enjoyment?
Maurice expressed his intention of calling upon Madame de Fleury; Lord Linden and M. de Bois proposed to accompany him. The three gentlemen took their departure together. But soon after they left the hotel, Maurice changed his mind; and, telling his companions that he had some business to transact which required immediate attention, apologized for leaving them, adding that he would call upon Madame de Fleury an hour later, and hoped he might have the pleasure of meeting them there.
M. de Bois proposed to Lord Linden that they, also, should postpone their visit.
"As you please," answered his lordship, languidly. "I am perfectly at leisure. I will go wherever you are going,—it does not matter where; I am indifferent to place."
Lord Linden alwayswasat leisure, and always indifferent, and not unfrequently attached himself to Gaston de Bois, and seemed disposed to accompany him wherever he went.
His lordship was one of that vast race ofblaséyoung noblemen whose opportunities of enjoyment had never been circumscribed, except by the absence of the capacity to enjoy, and who, as a natural sequence, were continually oppressed with a sense of satiety, enervated by the noonday sunshine of unbroken prosperity, and thoroughly weary of their own existence. When his brother-in-law had been appointed ambassador to America, he had accompanied him to the United States with a vague idea that he would be thrown in contact with warlike tribes of Indians, the aborigines of the soil, whose novel and barbarous usages might afford him some mediocre measure of excitement. We need hardly picture his disappointment.
The ambassadors from foreign courts and their suites were as a matter of course, thrown into constant communication with each other, and the secretary of the French ambassador and the brother-in-law of the English formed an acquaintance which ripened into an approach to intimacy. There was no particular affinity between them, but Lord Linden liked M. de Bois's society because he was a patient listener, and Lord Linden was the opposite to taciturn; and Gaston, though he sometimes, as in the present instance, felt his lordship an encumbrance, had too often been a victim to ennui not to sympathize with a fellow-sufferer.
"Mademoiselle de Merrivale has a remarkably attractive face," said Lord Linden. "I do not particularly fancy blondes; there is too much milk-and-water and crushed rose-leaves in their general make-up; but, if a blonde could, to my eyes, enter the charmed circle of the positively beautiful, I would give her admission."
Gaston, who had fallen into a pleasant revery, was quickly roused by this observation, and exclaimed, with an indignant intonation, "Not admit ablondeinto the circle of the beautiful? Can anything be lovelier than the countenance you have just looked upon?"
"Yes," replied the nobleman, musing in his turn.
"I think I could show you a face that would make Mademoiselle de Merrivale's sink into the most utter insignificance."
"Is your beauty a Washington belle?" inquired Gaston, half-scornfully.
"I do not know,—I do not know anything about her. I merely spoke figuratively when I saidI could show you,—for I certainly couldnot, at this moment; but I allude to the most peerless being that ever captivated the eyes of man. In her, indeed, one could realize the poet's thought,—
"'All beauty compassed in a female form.'"
"And who is this incomparable divinity?" asked Gaston, still with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
"Who is she? That is more than I know myself. We were thrown together by an accident,—quite an every-day occurrence in this headlong-rushing, pell-mell, neck-breaking land, where the people contemplate railroad catastrophes and steamboat explosions with as cool indifference as though they were a necessary part of a traveller's programme."
"You were thrown in contact with your beauty, then, by a railroad collision, or were blown together through the bursting of a boiler?" remarked Gaston interrogatively, and more because civility seemed to demand the question than because he took any especial interest in the narrative.
"Yes, quite a stirring incident. I felt alive for a month after. I was travelling from New York to Washington, in such a listless and used-up state that, in my desperation, I seriously pondered upon the amount of emotion that could be derived from jumping off the train, at the risk of one's neck. As I was glancing restlessly around, suddenly a face rose before me that riveted my eyes. It was a countenance unlike any I had ever seen. Though features and outline were faultless, in these the least part of its beauty was embodied. There was an eloquence in the rapid transitions of expression that melted one into another; there was a dreamy thoughtfulness in the magnificent hazel eyes. They were not exactly hazel either,—they reminded one of a topaz. I hardly know what name to give to their hue. But it is useless to attempt to describe such a face and form. I might heap epithet upon epithet, and then leave you without the faintest conception of the bewildering loveliness of their possessor."
"You succeeded in becoming acquainted with the lady?" inquired Gaston, now really interested.
"That good fortune was brought about by one of those ill winds, which, for the proverb's sake, must blow good to some one. It could not have been accomplished by any effort of my own, for there was an air of quiet dignity about the lady that no gentleman could have ventured to ruffle by too marked observation, far less by presuming to address even a passing remark. We were about half way between Philadelphia and Baltimore, when suddenly a terrific shock was felt, followed by a dashing of all humanity to one side of the cars, and a great crash. We had run into another train, were thrown off the track, and, in a moment more, upset."
"Since you were longing for excitement," observed Gaston, "this agreeable little variety must have gratified you."
"Yes, it was well enough in its way, not being positively fatal to existence. You may conceive the confusion and the difficulty of getting upon one's feet. How the people scrambled out of the cars I do not exactly know; for a short time I was too much stunned to see anything distinctly. I remember nothing clearly until somebody helped me up, and, in trying to move my left arm, I discovered that it was broken."
"How unfortunate! And you lost sight of the lady?"
"It would have been unfortunate if Ihadlost sight of her; but I did not. The passengers were huddled together in a most primitive inn by the road-side. There I beheld her, moving about, quite unharmed, quieting a child here, assisting a young mother there, doing something helpful everywhere. There chanced to be a surgeon in the cars, who, happily, was uninjured. He saw my predicament, for I was suffering confoundedly, and, upon examining my arm, said that it must be set at once. He called upon several persons to aid him. Some were too much occupied with their own distress; some too bewildered; and some shrank from the task. But, to my supreme joy (it was worth breaking an arm for such a piece of good luck), the lady I just mentioned came forward, and offered her services! She tore my handkerchief and her own into bandages, produced needle and thread from her little travelling reticule, and sewed them together. She assisted the surgeon in the most skilful but the calmest manner. What could I do but express my gratitude? This was the opening to a conversation. We were detained several hours at the inn before a train arrived to take us on our journey. I had always detested these American cars, where all the travellers sit together in pairs; but now I rejoiced over them, for I managed to obtain a seat beside her. We conversed, without pause, during the whole way to Washington; and what propriety and good sense she evinced! Her beauty had deeply impressed me, but her conversation struck me even more. Such elevated thoughts dropped spontaneously from her lips, and so naturally, that she did not seem to be aware that there was anything peculiar about them. It was enough to drive a man distracted; I confess that it did me!"
"She came to Washington then?"
"Yes; and here we were forced to part. I begged that she would allow me the privilege of calling to thank her. In the most suave, lady-like, but resolute manner,—a manner thatsilenced all pleading,—she declined. But she had inadvertently admitted that she resided in Washington.Thathas kept me here ever since. I have been searching for her these six months."
"And you have never met her again?"
"No, I have sought her in the highest circles; for, from her distinguished and even aristocratic air, her exceeding cultivation and good-breeding, I infer that she is a person of standing. It was somewhat singular that a lady of her unmistakable stamp should have been travelling alone; but that is not unusual in this country. In spite of all my efforts, I have never been able to encounter her again. I examined the strips of the fine cambric handkerchief with which my arm was bound, hoping to find a name. Upon one strip the letter 'M' was daintily embroidered. I have those strips yet carefully preserved."
"Do you think she was an American lady?"
"No, assuredly not. Though she spoke the English language very purely, and as only a scholar could have conversed, a slight accent betrayed that she was a foreigner; French, or Italian, I imagine. If I could only behold her once again, I should not be so miserably tired of everything and so bored by my own existence. Washington is killingly dull. By the way, the de Fleurys give a grand ball on Monday. I hear that there is great anxiety prevalent in thebeau mondeon the score of invitations. Of course, Mademoiselle de Merrivale will be there. Her face must create a sensation. What a piece of good fortune it would be if I could see it, at this very ball, contrasted with that of my lovely incognita!Thereis a day-dream for you! I never attend a ball, or any large assembly, without a vague anticipation of finding her in the crowd. I should like to hearyourcandid opinion if you saw those two faces placed side by side."
The response which Gaston made to this remark, and which expressed certain convictions of his own, was not uttered aloud.
It is one of love's happy prerogatives that the countenance best beloved gains to the lover's eye a charm beyond that with which any other face is endowed, even when he is forced to admitthatdearest visage is surpassed in point of positive, calculable, tangible beauty.
"A man may love a woman perfectly,And yet by no means ignorantly maintainA thousand women have not larger eyes:Enough that she alone has looked at himWith eyes that, large or small, have won his soul."
"A man may love a woman perfectly,And yet by no means ignorantly maintainA thousand women have not larger eyes:Enough that she alone has looked at himWith eyes that, large or small, have won his soul."
Maurice had so unceremoniously parted from Lord Linden and M. de Bois because he suddenly remembered that Mr. Lorrillard had impressed upon him the necessity of making his arrangements with Mr. Emerson without delay, as the present was a peculiarly favorable moment for purchasing shares in the mines whose iron he hoped to convert to gold.
The viscount presented himself at Mr. Emerson's office, and delivered Mr. Lorrillard's letter. This latter gentleman was held in such high esteem that an introduction of his was certain of meeting with the utmost consideration. Mr. Emerson, after only a brief conversation with Maurice, informed him that he was ready to make the desired loan upon the security offered, and begged that he would call the next morning, when the necessary formalities would at once be gone through.
Gratified by his visit and elated by the prospect of effecting a business transaction of so much importance, never dreaming of the fatal sequence which might be the result, Maurice drove to the residence of the French ambassador. It was not Madame de Fleury's reception-day, but by some mistake he was ushered into her drawing-room. In a few minutes, Lurline, a confidentialfemme de chambre, whom Maurice had often seen in Paris,—a being all fluttering ribbons and alluring smiles and graceful courtesies and coquettish airs,—made her appearance.
"Madame has received the card of monsieurle vicomte," she began, with a sugary accent and soft manner, which reminded one strongly of the tones and deportment of her mistress. "Madame would not treat monsieur as a stranger, and therefore sentme,"—here, with her head on one side, she courtesied again, bewitchingly,—"to say that we have a new valet,—an ignorant fellow, for it is impossible to procure a decent domestic in America,—and this untrained creature has to be drilled intoles usages: he has forgotten that madame only receives on Saturday. Madame, however, would seeM. le vicomteat any time that was possible."
"I am delighted to hear you say so," returned Maurice, "for I am very desirous of having the pleasure of paying my respects."
"Madame is preparing for amatinée, at the Spanish Embassy. She is justcoiffé, and monsieur should see what a magnificent head I have made for her. Notwithstanding my success with her head she is at this moment in deep distress: her dress has not yet arrived; we expect it every moment! Madame's agitation is overpowering. She is quite unequal to encountering a disappointment of this crushing nature. She begs monsieur will excuse"—
Before she could finish the sentence, the marchioness herself appeared, wrapped in a delicate, rose-coloredrobe-de-chambre, prodigally adorned with lace and embroidery.
"My dear M. de Gramont, I meant to excuse myself; but as I am forced to wait for that tantalizing dress, a few moments with you,en attendant, will divert my thoughts. I had heard from M. de Bois, that the Countess de Gramont and her son, with Mademoiselle de Merrivale, are honoring Washington by their presence; but I was informed thatyouwere not here. You see I paid you the compliment of inquiring."
As she spoke, she glanced at the mirror opposite, and arranged the long sprays of feathery flowers that were mingled with her braided tresses.
"I am highly flattered at not being forgotten," replied Maurice. "I only arrived this morning, and hastened to pay my respects."
"And you ought to be very much flattered that I can spare you an instant, at such a critical moment. Here is my toilet for thismatinéeat a dead stand-still, because that tiresome dress has not come. It is one I ordered expressly for the occasion, and, I assure you, it is a perfect triumph of art,—a victory gained over great obstacles. Let me tell you, nothing is more difficult to manage than an appropriate costume for amatinée. One's toilet must be a delicate compromise between ball attire and full visiting dress, but Mademoiselle Melanie has hit thejuste milieu; and succeeded in carrying me through all the perils of Scylla and Charybdis. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" (stamping her tiny slippered foot) "will that dress never come?"
"It must be very trying!" said Maurice, endeavoring to assume a tone of sympathy.
"Trying? it iskilling! Imagine my state of mind. I cannot gowithoutthis dress: all my other toilets have been seen more than once in public; and this one was sure to create a sensation,—was planned for this very occasion!"
"I fear my visit is inopportune, and ought to be shortened,"replied Maurice, for the agitated manner and troubled look of Madame de Fleury made him feel that he must be an intruder. "I will only remain long enough to know if you will receive my grandmother, my father, and my cousin, Mademoiselle Bertha, to-morrow; they are very"—
"Hush!" cried Madame de Fleury, raising her finger and listening with an eager countenance. "Was that not a ring? Patrick is opening the door. Hush! let me listen! It is the dress,—it must be the dress!" and she made several rapid steps toward the door, but returned to her seat as the servant passed through the entry with empty hands. "This is terrible! I have not my wits about me; I do not know what I am doing or saying!"
"I am truly concerned," observed Maurice, who had risen to depart. "May I tell the Countess de Gramont that you will receive her to-morrow?"
"To-morrow? Yes, certainly. I do not remember any engagement, but I can think of nothing at this moment. If that tormenting dress would only arrive! I fear it will never be here! It is the first time Mademoiselle Melanie ever disappointed me; she is punctuality itself. This waiting is torture, and completely upsets me,—turns my brain; it will throw me into a nervous fever. You, insensible men, cannot feel for such a position; you do not know the importance of a toilet."
"We must be very dull if we do not know how to appreciate those of Madame de Fleury," replied Maurice, bowing courteously. "Pray, do not include me in the catalogue of such sightless individuals. I will bid you adieu until to-morrow, when you will allow me to accompany my grandmother?"
"You are always welcome. Pray tell the countess I shall be charmed to see her, and say the same to that cruel Mademoiselle Bertha,—though I ought not to forgive her treatment of my brother. Say to her that he is yet unconsoled. Good gracious! That dress certainly is not coming! If it were to arrive at this moment I should be obliged to hasten; and to give thefinishingtouches to a toilet in a hurried and discomposed manner is to run the risk of spoiling the general effect. Whatcanhave happened to Mademoiselle Melanie? Hark! is not that some one? Did you not hear a ring? I am not mistaken; some onedidcome in. It is the dress at last!"
The marchioness started up joyfully, with clasped hands, and an expression of deep gratitude. A servant entered with a note; she snatched it petulantly and tossed it into the card-basket unopened.
"How vexatious! Only a note! It istoocruel! I shall never, never pardon Mademoiselle Melanie if she disappoints me. But that's easy enough to say, difficult enough to carry into execution. In reality I could not exist without her; and Mademoiselle Melanie knowsthatas well as I do. She is so sought after that her exhibition-rooms are crowded from morning until night. It is now a favor for her to receive any new customers, and I believe she has some thirty or forty workwomen in her employment. Of course, you have heard of Mademoiselle Melanie?"
"I have not had that pleasure; she is a mantua-maker, I presume," returned Maurice, repressing a smile.
"I suppose that is what, strictly speaking, we must call her; but she is the very Queen of Taste, the Sovereign of Modistes. She has a genius that is extraordinary,—it is magic,—it is inspiration! A touch of her hand transforms every one who approaches her. What figures she has made for some of these American women! What charms she has developed in them! What an air and grace she has imparted to their whole appearance! She makes the most vulgar look elegant, and the elegant, divine! Another ring. Now Heaven grant it may be the dress at last!"
The marchioness was again disappointed: it was only another note, which shared the fate of the former.
"Oh, I shall not survive this!" she ejaculated, dropping into an arm-chair; "and that horrid little Mrs. Gilmer will triumph in my absence. You know Mrs. Gilmer?"
"I have not that honor," returned Maurice, who, impatient as he was to take his leave, found it impossible to depart while the marchioness chose to detain him.
"She attempts to pass herself off for a belle, and even tries to take precedence ofme, ignoring all the customs of good society; but, doubtless, the poor thing is actually ignorant of them, and should be pardoned and pitied for her ill-breeding. She is the wife of Gilmer, the rich banker. It is to Mademoiselle Melanie that she is indebted for all her social success. Mademoiselle Melanie positivelycreatedher, and she never wears anything made by any one else. It is all owing to Mademoiselle Melanie that the men surround her as they do, and try to persuade themselves that she is pretty. Pretty! with her turn-up nose, and colorless hair and eyes. Her husband is immensely rich; and, as wealth rules the day in this country, she takes good care that the depth of his purse shall be known; for that purpose she loads herself with diamonds,—always diamonds. She has not the least idea of varying her jewels; even Mademoiselle Melanie could not make her comprehend that art. I wonder she does not have a dress contrived of bank-notes!Thatwould be novel, and it would also prove a capital way of announcing her opulence!"
"A rather dangerous costume!" returned Maurice, laughing.
"At all events it would be original; and, as originality is sure to produce an effect, the saucy littleparvenuemight afford to follow my advice, even though it came from an enemy."
Maurice could not help exclaiming with a comical intonation,—for there was something irresistibly ludicrous in the puny fierceness of the dressed doll,—"An enemy!"
"Oh, there is no concealment about it!" exclaimed Madame de Fleury with the air of a Liliputian belligerent. "It is open warfare; we are at swords' points, and all the world knows our animosity. And Mrs. Gilmer has the impertinence to pretend that ourstylesare quite similar, and that the same modes become us. She even declares that such has been Mademoiselle Melanie's verdict, and from the judgment of Mademoiselle Melanie nobody dares to appeal."
"This Mademoiselle Melanie is a Parisian, I presume?" asked Maurice, more because it seemed polite to say something, than from any interest in the answer to his question.
"Could she be anything else?" replied Madame de Fleury, with enthusiasm. "Could a being gifted with such wondrous taste have been born out of Paris? She is aprotegéeof Vignon's; and, when I was exiled, Mademoiselle Melanie came to America with me. She instantly became known. There is a Mr. Hilson here, to whom she probably brought letters, for he has taken the deepest interest in trumpeting her fame. She has created a perfect furor."
"Hilson?" repeated Maurice, musingly. "A gentleman of that name visited Brittany before I left. I wonder if it can be the same person."
"Very likely, for he has been abroad. I have heard him mention Brittany. Well, this Mr. Hilson was so infatuated with—hush! That is a ring!"
While Madame de Fleury listened in breathless expectation, Lurline opened the door and announced, "The dress of madame has arrived!"
"Ah! at last! at last! What happiness! I am saved, whenI had almost given up all hope! Monsieur de Gramont, you will excuse me!Au revoir!"
Before Maurice could utter his congratulations upon the advent of the dress, she had glided out of the room.
The tangled web Count Tristan had woven for others began to fold its meshes around himself, and to torture him with the dread that he might be caught in his own snare. From the moment Maurice arrived in Washington,—an event the count had not anticipated,—his covert use of the authority entrusted to him was menaced with discovery. To a frank, straightforward character, the very natural alternative would have suggested itself of explaining, and, as far possible, justifying the step just taken; but to a mind so full of guile, so wedded to wily schemes as the count's, a simple, upright course would never have occurred. The fear of exposure threw him into a state of nervous irritability which allowed no rest, and he was compelled to pay the price of deception by plunging deeper into her labyrinths, though every step rendered extrication from the briery mazes more difficult.
On the morrow Maurice accompanied his grandmother, Bertha, and Count Tristan to the residence of the Marchioness de Fleury. Count Tristan'smalaiseevinced itself by his unusually fretful and preoccupied manner, his querulous tone, and a partial forgetfulness of those polite observances of which he was rarely oblivious. He allowed his mother to stand, looking at him in blind amazement, before he remembered to open the door; was very near passing out of the room before her, and scarcely recollected to hand her into the carriage. His abstraction was partially dissipated by her scornful comment upon the contagious influences of a plebeian country; but to recover himself entirely was out of the question.
On reaching the ambassador's mansion, the visitors were disconcerted by the information that Madame de Fleury "did not receive."
"She will receive us!" answered Maurice, recovering himself. "We are here by appointment." And, passing the surprised domestic, he ushered his grandmother into the drawing-room. Bertha and Count Tristan followed.
The servant, with evident hesitation, took the cards that were handed to him, and retired. The door of thesalonchanced to remain open, and rendered audible a whispered conversation going on in the entry.
"I dare not disturb madame at this moment; she would fly into a terrible rage. You know she never allows her toilet to be interrupted!"
These words, spoken in a female voice, reached the ears of the visitors.
"But the gentleman says it is anappointment. What's to be done? What am I to answer?" was the rejoinder in rough male tones.
"You are a blockhead,—you have no management," replied the first voice. "I will arrange the matter without your stupid interference."
Lurline now courtesied herself into the room, and, after bestowing an arch glance of recognition upon the viscount, addressed the countess.
"I amdesoléeto be obliged to inform madame that Madame de Fleury is at this moment so much absorbed by her toilet that I fear I shall have no opportunity of making known the honor of madame's visit. My mistress has made an engagement to go to the capitol to hear some distinguished orator. It is madame'sdébûtin spring attire this season. Madame's dress, bonnet, and mantle have this moment been sent home. A more delicately fresh toiletde printempscannot be conceived; it will establish the fact that spring has arrived. But madame has not yet essayed her attire and assured herself of its effect. I trustmadame la comtessewill deem this sufficient apology for not being received."
As she concluded, Lurline simpered and courtesied, and seemed confident that she had gracefully acquitted herself of a difficult duty.
"Not receive us when we are here by invitation?" ejaculated the countess, angrily. "Is Madame de Fleury aware that it is the Countess de Gramont and her family who are calling upon her?"
"There must be some mistake," interposed Maurice; then, turning to thefemme de chambre, he added, "I beg that you will deliver these cards to the marchioness and bring me an answer."
"How am I to refuse monsieur?" replied Lurline, hesitating, yet softening her unwillingness to comply by a volley of sidelong glances. "Monsieur is not aware that he is placing me in a most delicate position. It is against madame's rules to be disturbed when her toilet is progressing: it requires her concentrated attention,—her whole mind! Still, if monsieur insists, I will run the risk of madame's displeasure. Monsieur must only be kind enough to wait, and allow me to watch for a favorable moment when I can place these cards before madame."
With a low salutation, and a coquettish movement of the head that set all her ribbons fluttering, thefemme de chambremade her exit.
"Not receive us? Make us wait?" exclaimed the countess, wrathfully; "truly, Madame de Fleury has profited by her sojourn among savages! This is not to be endured! Let us depart at once!"
"My dear mother," began Count Tristan, soothingly, "it will not do to be offended, or to notice the slight, if there be one; but, I am sure, none is intended. It is absolutelyindispensablethat I should see the countess, and get her to present this letter to the Marquis de Fleury, and also that I should obtain her promise that she will influence him to secure the vote of Mr. Gobert. Pray, be courteous to the marchioness when she makes her appearance, or all is lost."
"What degradation will you demand of me next? How can you suppose it possible that I can be courteous? I tell you I am furious!"
"But you do not know all that depends upon obtaining these votes. Think of this railroad,—of the vital importance of the direction it takes! Think of the Maryland property, which is almost all that is left to us"—
"Have I not again and again begged you not to meddle with railroads,—not to occupy yourself with business matters which a nobleman is bound to ignore?"
"And by obeying you, as far as I could, and only acting in secret, I have nearly ruined myself," answered the count, with growing excitement.
At this moment the loud ringing of a bell was heard, accompanied by the voice of Lurline, speaking in tones of great tribulation.
"Patrick! Patrick! do you not hear the bell? Come here quickly! What's to be done? Such a calamity! It's dreadful! dreadful!"
Count Tristan started up, and went to the door to question thefemme de chambre, fearing that the calamity in question might be of a nature sufficiently serious to prevent the much-desired interview.
Lurline was standing in the hall; she wore her hat and shawl, and was giving directions to a domestic in the most rapid and flurried manner.
"Will Madame de Fleury receive us?" inquired the count, anxiously.
"I told monsieur that I could not promise him, and, now that this misfortune has befallen us, it is thoroughly impossible even to make your presence here known to madame. Who could have anticipated such acontretems? Never before has Mademoiselle Melanie allowed a dress to issue from her hands which did not fità merveille, and there are two important alterations to be made in this before it can be worn. Madame is in despair; she will go out of her senses; it will give her a brain fever!"
"Can we not have the pleasure of seeing her for a few moments, when her toilet is completed?" inquired Maurice.
"Ah, there it is!Whenher toilet is completed? Will it be completed in time for her to reach the senate at the hour proposed? Monsieur will pardon me, but I have not a moment to spare."
Turning to Patrick, she added, "I am forced to go out to purchase some ribbons. I have left madame in the hands of Antoinette. Madame is in such a state that one might weep to see her! Take care not to admit any one, except the Countess Orlowski, who accompanies your mistress to the senate. I will be back presently."
The Countess de Gramont rose up majestically.
"Let us depart, my son! Never more will I cross this threshold,—never enter this house where I have been insulted!"
"No insult was intended," replied Count Tristan, nervously. "Even if it were, we are not in a position to be cognizant of insults; we should be forced to ignore them. I cannot leave without entreating the marchioness to deliver this letter to Monsieur de Fleury, herself: itmustbe done,—andto-day. There is not an instant to lose."
"And you can stoop so low,—you can demean yourself to such a degree? What a humiliation!"
"Humiliations are not to be taken into consideration whereruinstares us in the face!" he answered, violently.
"Is itso very important?" inquired Bertha, struck by the count's angry manner.
"Of more importance than I can explain to you!"
"Oh, then let us stay, aunt! We must make allowances for Madame de Fleury's ruling passion. Her toilet first, all the world afterward!"
A carriage just then drove to the door, and attracted the attention of Bertha, who was standing by the open window.
"What magnificent horses! and what a neat equipage! All the appointments in such admirable taste! A lady is descending. I suppose it must be the Countess Orlowski. What a dignified air she has! What a graceful bearing! I wish I could see her face. She must be handsome with such a perfect figure. Yes,—I am right,—itisthe Countess Orlowski, for the servant has admitted her."
As the lady was passing through the hall, she said to the domestic, "No, you need not announce me; I will go at once to the chamber of Madame de Fleury."
At the sound of that voice, the shriek of joy that broke from Bertha's lips drowned the amazed exclamation of Maurice. In another instant, Bertha's arms were around the stranger, and her kisses were mingled with tears and broken ejaculations, as she embraced her rapturously.
Maurice stood beside them, struggling with emotion that caused his manly frame to vibrate from head to foot, while his dilated eyes appeared spellbound by some familiar apparition which they hardly dared to believe was palpable.
There is a joy which, in its wild excess, paralyzes the faculties, makes dumb the voice, confuses the brain, until ecstasy becomes agony, and all the senses are enveloped in a cloud of doubt. Such was the joy of Maurice as he stood powerless, questioning the blissful reality of the hour, yet in the actual presence of that being who was never a moment absent from his mental vision.
"Madeleine! Madeleine! My own Madeleine! Have we found you at last? Is it really you?" sobbed Bertha, whose tears always flowed easily, but now poured in torrents from their blue heavens.
And Madeleine, as she passionately returned her cousin's embrace, dropped her head upon Bertha's shoulder, and wept also.
"Madeleine!"
At that tremulously tender voice her face was lifted andturned toward Maurice,—turned for the first time for nearly five long years; and yet, at that moment, he felt as though it had never been turned away.
Bertha involuntarily loosened her arms, and Madeleine extended her hand to Maurice. He clasped it fervently, but his quivering lips gave forth no sound. One irrepressible look of perfect joy from Madeleine's luminous eyes had answered the impassioned gaze of his; one smile of ineffable gratitude played over her sweet lips. For an instant the eyes were raised heavenward, in mute thanksgiving, and then sought the ground, as though they feared to reveal too much; and the smile of transport changed to one of grave serenity, and the wonted quietude of her demeanor returned.
The countess and Count Tristan had both risen in speechless surprise, but had made no attempt to approach Madeleine, whom Bertha now drew into the room.
"Madeleine! I cannot believe that I am not dreaming," cried the latter; "I cannot believe that I have found you!—that it is really you! And you are lovelier than ever! You no longer look pale and careworn; you are happy, my own Madeleine,—you are happy,—are you not? But why have you forgotten us?"
"I have never forgotten—never—neverforgotten!" faltered Madeleine, in a voice that had a sound of tears, answering to those that glittered in her eyes.
Maurice had not released her hand, and, bending over her, made an effort to speak; but at that moment the stern voice of the countess broke in harshly,—
"How is it that we find you here, Mademoiselle de Gramont? Where have you hidden yourself? What have you done since you fled from my protection?"
"Yes, what have you done?" chimed in Count Tristan. "How is it that we find you descending from a handsome equipage and elegantly attired?"
"I have done nothing for which I shall ever have to blush!" answered Madeleine, with a dignity which awed him into silence.
"It was needless to saythat, dear Madeleine," cried Maurice, whose powers of utterance had returned when he saw Madeleine about to be assailed. "No one who knows you woulddare to believethat you ever committed an action that demanded a blush."
Madeleine thanked him with her speaking countenance. Perhaps it was only fancy, but he thought he felt a light, grateful pressure of the hand he held.
"But tell us where you have been!" continued Bertha, affectionately. "You look differently, Madeleine, and yet the same; and how this rich attire becomes you! You are no longer poor and dependent then,—are you?"
"I am no longer poor, and no longer dependent!" answered Madeleine, in a tone of honest pride.
"Is it possible?" exclaimed the count and his mother together.
"But how has all this happened?" Bertha ran on. "Oh! I can divine: you are married,—you have made a brilliant marriage."
At those words a suppressed groan, of unutterable anguish, struck on Madeleine's ear; and the hand Maurice held dropped from his grasp.
"Speak! do speak! dear Madeleine!" continued Bertha. "Tell us all your sufferings,—for you must have suffered at first,—and all your joys, since you are happy now. And tell us how you chance to be here,—here in America, as we are; and how it happens that you are calling upon the Marchioness de Fleury, at the same time as ourselves; and why you expect to be received by her, though she will not receive us."
Before Madeleine could reply, and she was evidently collecting herself to speak, Lurline, who had just returned from executing her commission, passed through the hall. The door of the drawing-room stood open; she caught sight of Madeleine, and ran toward her, exclaiming joyfully,—
"Oh, what good fortune! How rejoiced my poor mistress will be! She did not dare to hope for this great kindness! I am so thankful! I will fly to announce to her the good news!"
She hurried away, leaving Madeleine's relatives more than ever amazed by these mysterious words.
Count Tristan was the first to break the silence. Ever keenly alive to his own interest, he saw a great advantage to be gained if he had interpreted the language of thefemme de chambrerightly.
In an altered tone, a tone of marked consideration, he asked, "You are well acquainted with the Marchioness de Fleury?"
"Very well!" replied Madeleine, with an incomprehensible emphasis, while a smile that had a faint touch of satire flitted over her face.
"She receives you?" questioned the count.
"Always," answered Madeleine, smiling again.
"She esteems you?" persisted the count.
"I have every reason to believe that she does."
"And you have influence with her," joined in Bertha, suspecting the count's drift, and feeling desirous of aiding him.
"I think I may venture to say I have."
"Oh, how fortunate!" cried Bertha; "you maybe of the greatest service to our cousin, Count Tristan." She took the letter out of his hand, and placing it in Madeleine's, added, "Beg Madame de Fleury to read this letter, and obtain her promise that she will use her influence with the Marquis de Fleury to cause Mr. Gobert,—Gobert, that's his name, is it not?" appealing to the count,—"to cause Mr. Gobert to vote as herein instructed. See, how well I have explained that matter! I really believe I have an undeveloped talent for business."
"The letter should reach Madame de Fleury this morning. The appeal should be made to the marquisto-day,—this very day!" urged the count.
"It shall be!" replied Madeleine, with quiet confidence.
The countess here interposed.
"What, my son, you are willing to solicit the interference of Mademoiselle de Gramont, without knowing how and where she has passed her time, how she has lived since she fled from the Château de Gramont? I refuse my consent to such a proceeding."
"Aunt,—madame," returned Madeleine, in a gently pleading voice, "do not deprive me of the pleasure of serving you. Humble and unworthy instrument that I am, leave me that happiness."
"If the marchioness would only grant me a few moments' interview this morning," said Count Tristan, who evidently doubted the strength of Madeleine's advocacy.
"I promise that shewillgrant you an interview this morning," replied Madeleine, interrupting him.
Thefemme de chambrenow reëntered and said, "Madame is impatient at this delay; every moment seems an hour."
"Say that I will be with her immediately," answered Madeleine. She then addressed the count: "Have no fears,—you may depend upon me; the countess will receive you the moment her toilet is completed."
Madeleine once more embraced Bertha, once more extended her hand to Maurice, who stood bewildered, dismayed, looking half petrified, and passed out of the room.
As soon as she had disappeared, Bertha broke forth joyously, "Well, aunt, what do you thinknowof our Madeleine?Is not this magic? Is not this a fairy-likedenouement? She disappears from the Château de Gramont as though the earth had opened to swallow her; no trace of her could be discovered for nearly five years, and suddenly she rises up in our very midst, a grand lady, enveloped in a cloud of mystery, and working as many wonders as a veritable witch. She leaves us poor, friendless, dependent; she returns to us rich, powerful, and with influential friends ready to serve those who once protected her. But I think I have found the key to the enigma. Did we not hear strict orders given that none but the Countess Orlowski should be admitted? Well, Madeleine was at once allowed to enter: it follows, beyond doubt, that she is the Countess Orlowski."
This version of Madeleine's position seemed to strike both the countess and her son as not merely possibly, but probably, correct.
"I always thought," returned the count, "that Madeleine was a young person who, in the end"—
His mother finished the sentence, in a tone of pride, "would prove herself worthy of the family to which she belongs."
The loud ringing of the street door-bell attracted the attention of the group assembled in the drawing-room. A well-known voice exchanged a few words with the servant, and Gaston de Bois entered. His manner was unusually perturbed, and he looked around the room as though in search of some one.
The instant he appeared, Bertha exclaimed, "Oh, M. de Bois! M. de Bois! We are all so much rejoiced! Madeleine, our own Madeleine, is found at last! She is here,—here in this very house, at this very moment!"
"I—I—I knew it!" answered M. de Bois, with a mixture of embarrassment and exultation.
"You knew it? How could you have known it?" asked Maurice, eagerly.
"I saw her car—ar—arriage at the door."
"Hercarriage? She has a carriage of her own, then?" inquired the count.
"Yes, and the most superb horses in Washington."
"You knew, then, that she was here?" cried Maurice, with emotion; "you knew it, and you never told us?"
"I knew it, but I was forbidden to tell you. I hoped you would meet; I felt sure you would. I did not know how or when; but, from the moment you put your foot in this city, I looked for this meeting. I was strongly impelled to bring it about, but my promise withheld me."
"Of course, you could not break a promise; that explanation is quite satisfactory," remarked Bertha. "I am sure you would have given us a hint but for your promise."
"I almost gave one in spite of it. I found it harder to keep silent than I used to find it to speak; and that was difficult enough."
"But have the goodness to unravel to us this grand mystery," demanded the count. "Madeleine is married—married to Count Orlowski, the Russian ambassador."
"A nobleman of position!" added the countess.
"How did this come about?" inquired the count.
M. de Bois looked stupefied.
"Who—who—said she was married?" he gasped out. "Why do you imagine that she is mar—ar—arried?"
"She isnot—notmarried then?Say she is not!" broke in Maurice, hanging upon the reply as though it were a sentence of life or death.
"No—no—not married at all—not in the least married."
Maurice did not answer, but the sound that issued from his lips almost resembled the sob of hysteric passion.
"Tell us quickly all about her!" besought Bertha, impatiently.
"Yes, speak! speak!" said the countess, imperiously.
"Speak!" echoed the count.
"Gaston, my dear friend, pray speak,—speak quickly!" Maurice besought.
"I wi—is—ish I could! That's just what I wa—an—ant to do! But it's not so easy, you bewil—il—ilder me so with questions. But the time has come when you must know that she has the hon—on—onor—the honor—the honor to be"—
"Go on, go on!" urged Maurice.
"I wish I could! It's not so easy to expla—plai—plain."
The rustling of a silk dress made him turn. The Marchioness de Fleury, in the most captivating spring attire, stood before them.
"Ah! here is Madame de Fleury, and she will tell you herself better than I can," said M. de Bois, apparently much relieved.
The marchioness saluted her guests with excessive cordiality, softly murmured her gratification at their visit, and added apologetically,—
"I must entreat your pardon for allowing you to wait; itwas not in my power to be more punctual; a terrible accident—the first of the kind which has ever occurred to me—is my excuse. Do not imagine, my dear viscount," turning to Maurice with a fascinating smile, "that I had forgotten my appointment; but, at the Russian embassy, yesterday, I was prevailed upon to promise that I would be present at the senate to-day to hear the speech of a Vermont orator, a sort of Orson Demosthenes, who has gained great renown by his rude but stirring eloquence. We ladies have been promised admission (which is now and then granted) to the floor of the house, instead of being crammed into the close galleries. It will be a brilliant occasion. I invited the Countess Orlowski to accompany me. If all had gone well I should have been ready to receive your visit before she came."
The brow of the countess smoothed a little as she answered, "I felt confident, madame, that there must have beensomeexplanation."
"Ah! I fear you are displeased with me," resumed Madame de Fleury, playfully. "But I will earn my pardon. You will be compelled to forgive me; M. de Fleury meets me at the capitol, and I will deliver this letter of the count's into his hand, and make him promise, blindfold, to consent to any request that it may contain."
"Madame," returned the count, bowing to the ground, "I shall never be able to express my gratitude. You can hardly form a conception of the favor you are conferring upon me. That letter is of the highest importance, and my indebtedness beggars all expression."
"To be frank with you, count," answered Madame de Fleury, "you owe me nothing. You are only indebted to the advocate you chose,—one whom I never refuse,—one to whom I feel under the deepest obligation, especially this morning,—one who is so modest that she can seldom be induced to ask me a favor, or to allow me to serve her. Thus, you see, it is but natural that I should seize with avidity upon this opportunity."
The count looked at his mother triumphantly; and, as the face of the marchioness was turned toward Bertha, he whispered, "Shall I not tell her that Madeleine is our niece?"
The countess seemed disposed to consent, for the words of Madame de Fleury had gratified as much as they astonished her.
The marchioness addressed the Countess de Gramont again. "I trust, madame, that you will allow me to waive ceremony, and take a liberty with you, since it is in the hope of being someservice. I should like to reach the capitol before the oration commences; and, if this letter must be delivered to M. de Fleury immediately, my going early will enable me to have a few moments' conversation with him, which I probably shall not get after the orator rises. Will you excuse me, if I tear myself away? And will you give me the pleasure of your company to-morrow evening? To-morrow is my reception-day, and some of my friends honor me in the evening. I amdesoléeat this apparent want of courtesy, but I am sure you see the necessity."
The countess bowed her permission to Madame de Fleury's departure, and the count overwhelmed her with thanks. The countess would herself have taken leave, but anxiety to learn something further of Madeleine, caused her to linger.
The marchioness now addressed her valet, who was standing in the hall waiting orders.
"Patrick, when Madame Orlowski calls, beg her to pardon my preceding her to the capitol; say that I will reserve a seat by my side."
"Then the lady who just visited you wasnotMadame Orlowski?" inquired the count, more puzzled than ever.
"No, indeed; she is worth a thousand Madame Orlowski's!"
The count's glance at his mother seemed again to ask her permission to allow him to announce that Madeleine was their relative.
"We felt certain that she was one of the magnates"—began the count.
The marchioness interrupted him.
"She is better than that; she has all the magnates of the land—that is the female magnates—at her feet. The foreign ladies swear by her, rave about her; and, as for the Americans, they are demented, and would gladly pave her path with gold,—that being their way of expressing appreciation. Madame Manesca passes whole mornings with her,—Madame Poniatowski talks of no one else. She enchants every one, and offends no one. For myself, I have only one fault to find with her,—I owe her only one grudge; if it had not been for her aid, that impertinent little Mrs. Gilmer would not have had such success in society. If I could succeed in making her close her doors against Mrs. Gilmer, what a satisfaction it would be! Then, and then only, should I be content!"
The count could restrain himself no longer.
"We are highly gratified to hear this, madame. It concerns, us more nearly than you are aware; the lady is not wholly a stranger to us; in fact, she—she"—
"Indeed? she was so little known in Paris that you were fortunate in finding her out. I appreciated her there, but I did not know how much actual credit was due to her, for she had not then risen to her present distinction. I confess she is the one person in America without whom I could not exist."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed the countess.
"And I cannot be grateful enough to her," continued the marchioness, "for her visit this morning, for she never goes out, or, so seldom, that I did not dare to expect, to evenhopefor her presence; yet her conscientiousness made her come; she suspected that I was in difficulty, and hastened here."
"It is like her; she was always charming, and so thoughtful for others!" observed the count, as complacently as though this were an opinion he had been in the habit of expressing for years.
"You may well say charming," responded Madame de Fleury; "and what knowledge she possesses of all the requirements, the most subtle refinements of good society! What polished manners she has! What choice language she uses! What poetical expression she gives to her sentiments! I often forget myself when I am talking to her, and fancy that I am communicating with a person of the same standing as myself; and, without knowing what I am doing, I involuntarily treat her as an equal!"
"An equal?Of course, most certainly!" answered the countess, aghast.
The amazement of the count, Maurice, and Bertha, sealed their lips.
"Her taste, her talent, her invention is something almost supernatural," continued the marchioness, enthusiastically; for, now that she was launched upon her favorite theme, she had forgotten her haste. "She sees at a glance all the good points of a figure; she knows how to bring them out strongly; she discovers by intuition what is lacking, and dexterously hides the defects. I have seen her convert the veriest dowdy into an elegant woman. And, when she gets a subject that pleases her, she perfectly revels in her art. Look at this dress for instance,—see by what delicate combinations it announces the spring."
The marchioness was struck with the consternation depicted in the countenances of her visitors.
Bertha was the only one who could command sufficient voice to falter out, "That dress, then"—
"It is her invention," replied the marchioness, triumphantly. "Any one would recognize it in a moment, as coming from thehands of Mademoiselle Melanie. Though she has such wonderful creative fertility, her style is unmistakable. There was never mantua-maker like her!"
"A mantua-maker! a mantua-maker!" exclaimed the countess and her son at once, in accents of disgust and indignation.
"Ah, I see you do not like to apply that epithet to her, and you are right. She should not be designated as a mantua-maker, but a great artist,—a true artist,—a fairy, who, with one touch of her wand, can metamorphose and beautify and amaze!"
At that moment, a servant announced that the Countess Orlowski waited in her carriage, and desired him to say that she feared she was late.
"You will excuse me then?" murmured the marchioness. "I must hasten to execute my mission for Mademoiselle Melanie, since it was she who so warmly solicited me to undertake this delicate little transaction, and I would not disappoint her for the world. Pray, do not forget to-morrow evening.Au revoir."
She floated out of the room, leaving the countess and her son speechless with rage and indignation.
Bertha and Maurice stood looking at each other, and then at M. de Bois, the only one who expressed no surprise, but seemed rather more gratified than moved when he beheld the countess sink back in her chair, and apply her bottle of sal volatile to her nose. The shock to her pride had been so terrible, that she appeared to be in danger of fainting.