CHAPTER X.COQUETRY
AllFlorence was talking of theBal Costuméto be given at theCasino de’ Nobilito H. R. H. the Count of Syracuse, a Neapolitan Prince, brother to the Grand Duchess, and at present on a visit to his Imperial sister at the Palazzo Pitti. The ladies were endeavoring each to outvie the other in the novelty and richness of their costumes. The Grand Ducal family were to represent their ancient predecessors on the throne of Florence, the rich and princely family of Medici. The notorious and once lovely Lady C—— F——, it was known would appear as Pomona, her dress to be looped up with bunches of fruit interspersed with diamonds, to represent the dew. A beautiful Florentine duchess, it was whispered, would personify the “Queen of Hearts;” but so well did her modiste keep the secret that none could guess either the fashion or color of her robe, which proves that womencanbe trusted, at least in so importantan affair as that of the toilette. Counting on her fresh beauty, and conscious that she could not hope to out-blaze her fair rivals in jewelry, Evelyn wisely preferred to be unique in the simplicity of her costume. She therefore chose the becoming dress of a peasant girl of Frascati, in the environs of Rome. Her corset of cherry-colored velvet, laced over a chemisette of plaited muslin, displayed to advantage the rounded waist and perfectly modelled shoulders. The full petticoat of blue silk trimmed with rows of ribbon to match the corsage, just cleared the well-turned ankle, and fully discovered the little Spanish foot with its arched instep. The hair, wrapped around the head, was fastened in a rich knot by two pins of diamond, and one large brilliant clasped the narrow band of red velvet which encircled her throat. The peasant’s apron, and bows of ribbon of blue and silver completed a costume in which the wearer looked scarcely more than eighteen. I accompanied my frienden Marquise, as this required but little exercise of the fancy, in which (as regards dress) I am lamentably deficient. Colonel Melville (whose leave expired very shortly), was to wear the uniform of his corps, and to meet us at the ball.
Evelyn’s toilette was a decided success; a murmur of admiration accompanied us as we threadedour way through the brilliant crowd of officers and gaily attired young nobles who thronged the vestibule and ante-rooms of the building. After some difficulty we succeeded in reaching the upper end of the ball room, where on a slightly elevated dais were seated the Imperial family. The Grand Duchess, as the celebrated Catherine de Medicis in a magnificent costume of the middle ages, was literally one blaze of jewels. On perceiving Evelyn—who was rather a favorite—she beckoned her to approach, and graciously complimented her on the good taste and simplicity of her attire. The Count Syracuse, who was a great admirer of beauty, then stepped forward and engaged the pretty Frascatana for a quadrille. The Prince, who, though somewhat stout, was a remarkably fine-looking man, appeared to the utmost advantage as Lorenzo de Medicis.—His extremely fascinating manners, together with his exalted rank, rendered him (if report speak true) almost irresistible with the female sex. But he was by no means a constant lover; he might with truth say, with a celebrated French roué: “Moi je suis fidèle à tout le monde.”
The count devoted himself to his “Cynthia of the minute,” and scarcely left her side, much to the disgust and envy of many a noble signora, who longed in vain for even one glance of passing admirationfrom the illustrious Don Giovanni, who had no eyes but for his simple Zerlina. Evelyn gave herself up to the intoxication of gratified vanity, and appeared to be as much charmed with her royal cavalier as he was taken with her. Had not the prince been a married man, I believe she would have aspired even to an alliance with royalty, for the recent choice of the French Emperor had contributed to turn the head of many a beauty. As it was, to permit such marked attention from a Prince, whose success with ladies was proverbial, could not but be detrimental to a virtuous woman’s reputation. Thus reflecting, I turned to seek Melville. Poor fellow! he was leaning against a fluted column the very statue of despair. In his expressive countenance you might see depicted all the tortures of jealousy and mortified pride. I advanced towards him and touched his elbow. He started as from a dream, made a few polite and common-place observations, and before I could speak a word, had vanished from the room. I still thought he would return, as was his wont, to escort us to the refreshment table, for Evelyn’s Italian adorers were usually too intently occupied in discussing the excellent supper and wines provided by their royal host, to have time to attend to the wants of any fair lady.
The Count Syracuse was forced to accompanythe Imperial party to supper. He therefore brought his lovely partner all glowing with the triumphs and excitement of the dance to my side. Evelyn passed her arm within mine.
“Let us seek Reginald Melville,” said she, “you will doubtless be glad of some refreshment.”
“Ah! dear Evelyn,” I replied, “I fear your imprudent coquetry has caused much suffering to-night.”
“He is foolish to be so jealous,” replied she; “does he wish me to speak to no one, and to make myself disagreeable in society?”
“But to remain so long with one man,” I remonstrated.
“Oh! aPrince, you know; how could I refuse? Indeed, Melville is most unreasonably exacting, and you encourage him. I should detest so jealous a husband. No; if he cannot bear to see a woman admired, let him choose a plain wife.”
Her levity vexed me, for I could not imagine a pleasure that necessarily entailed pain upon others. But then, remember,I am not a beauty.
We sought Melville in every room; he was nowhere to be found. Evelyn was evidently piqued; she becamedistraite, and answered at random the various compliments and observations addressed to her. She refused all invitations to dance, and hadMelville now seen her, the destiny of two lives might have been changed. How often do we of the weaker sex wrap ourselves in our woman’s pride and carefully conceal our true feelings from the being we respect and esteem most upon earth. How frequently even in our moments of apparent cruelty and caprice do we in the depth of our soul resolve one day by the devotion of a life to make full and ample amends for the momentary pangs we may have caused! Thrice happy they who may be permitted to put these good resolves into practice ere it betoo late.
We remained but a short time at the now distasteful ball. On the morrow Evelyn had a nervous headache and kept her room. Although she had given orders that no one was to be admitted, I perceived her look of disappointment when the name of Colonel Melville was missing from the pile of cards and notes brought by her maid in the evening to her bedside.
The following day, being quite restored, she arose and dressed with more than usual care and good taste. I saw that she expected Melville would call, that being his last day in Florence, and I doubted not that when he came all would go well—and I might have to congratulate two happy affianced lovers. Evelyn was restless and abstracted.She tried to sing, but was out of voice; she took up a book, but did not get farther than the title-page; her eyes wandered perpetually towards the Frenchpenduleon the mantel-piece; at last she rose impatiently, and stated her intention of driving to the Cascines, that loveliest of promenades, unsurpassed even by the far-famed “Bois de Boulogne.”
At that moment there was a loud ring at the entrance door of the apartment. My heart beat in sympathy with that of Evelyn, who turned pale as death. The servant did not at once answer the door—five long minutes of suspense, and the ring was again repeated. At length the door was opened. A manly step was heard, and H. R. H. the Count of Syracuse entered.
Evelyn trembled visibly, but mastered her emotion, and received her royal visitor with graceful dignity. Though I perceived the Prince greatly desired my absence, I thought it wiser to remain with my friend, whose agitation I feared might be interpreted too favorably.
About ten minutes after the Prince’s arrival, another ring at the bell was heard. This time a well-known voice enquired—
“Is Mrs. Travers at home?”
A short colloquy with the servant followed, andwe heard the door of the apartment closed. I looked towards Evelyn. Her vexation was so evident that the Prince asked if she were ill, I was obliged to come to the rescue—and declared, with truth, that she had kept her room the preceding day, and was scarcely sufficiently recovered to do the honors to His Royal Highness.
The Count took the hint, and paid us that time but a short visit. The moment he had quitted, the servant brought in on a small waiter, Col. Melville’s card, with P. P. C. in the corner. We questioned the man—
“Did the Colonel say he would call again?”
“No, signora.”
“Did he state when he was leaving?”
“No, signora.”
“Well then, whatdidhe say?” I exclaimed, wishing to spare Evelyn the pain of asking.
“The Colonel asked if the signora was alone. I told him Sna. Altezza Reale was with the signora. The signore then said, Give this card to the signora. That is all, ladies.”
It was then near five, the hour of departure of the train. The servant was sent to inquire if the Colonel left that evening. He returned with the message—“Il Colonello è partito già”—“the Colonel is already gone.”
Evelyn’s disappointment turned to anger. Her pride was offended, and she determined to punish Melville by encouraging the visits of her Royal admirer—a very dangerous game!
“For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair,The ornament of beauty is suspect,A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air.”
“For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair,The ornament of beauty is suspect,A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air.”
“For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair,The ornament of beauty is suspect,A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air.”
“For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair,
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air.”
Her charms and success had made our heroine many enemies, especially among her own sex, and envious tongues were busy with her fair fame. She was termed a heartless jilt, and her conduct towards Melville was commented on in the severest terms.
In Italy no woman ought to permit any marked attention from one of the opposite sex, if she would preserve an unblemished reputation. The innocent frankness of my countrywomen, and of the American ladies, is liable to be sadly misconstrued by the idle and languid Italian “lions,” who lounge away their time at the doors of the different cafes, and discuss the appearance and character of the ladies, as they pass in their carriages toward the Lungo L’Arno and Cascines.
Evelyn, whose conduct had been, and still was, most indiscreet, being, moreover, without a protector, was especially the mark for scandal. Women who would have given the world to havebeen able to do as she did, were the first to blame her imprudence; and the young Florentine exquisites, who had never yet succeeded in winning a smile from “la bella Inglese,” now invented all kinds of cruel and false reports concerning her. The frequent visits of the Count Syracuse were reported to the Grand Duchess, who henceforth looked coldly upon Evelyn, and the ladies of society were only too happy to have it in their power to mortify one who had excited their jealousy. And Melville, too—the good, the kind, the loving—had he also deserted the woman he once held so dear? The next chapter may perhaps throw some light on this subject.