Woman and Artist Part 16

Six feet three in his stockings, broad of shoulder, admirably proportioned, with an iron will written on his face, a herculean strength and remarkable suppleness of body, the head dignified and proudly set on a large neck, the face stern with keen scrutinising eyes, straight prominent nose, a sensual mouth, with full red lips and a thick black moustache twisted into two sharp points, the General looked like a man who might be as redoubtable in a boudoir as on a battlefield. As a matter of fact he had won many hearts in the former and many victories in the latter. Not being married, he had risked his reputation in the service of women, and his life in the service of his sovereign, with more impunity and less hesitation than might otherwise have been the case.

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, delighted," he said to Dora.

And in a lower tone he added, "To renew your acquaintance."

Dora, fearing that the General might give a disagreeable turn to the conversation, hastened to make the first remark that pa.s.sed through her mind. Nothing betrayed the uneasiness she felt at seeing this man again.

"Has your Excellency been long in London?" she asked of Sabaroff, in her calmest tones.

"A few days only. I have come to consult an oculist who has been specially recommended to me; and, besides, I have wanted for some time past to visit England and see some of my old friends here."

Sabaroff was a man of the world. He knew that it would be bad form to monopolise his hostess, so he exchanged a few words more with her on trivial topics, and then, accompanied by Philip, entered the drawing-room. He recognised an acquaintance here and there, to whom he bowed. Philip introduced a few people to him, and he was soon the centre of an interested group.

"I hope," said Lord Bentham, "that your Excellency's impressions of the English are favourable. We do our best to make ourselves agreeable to distinguished strangers who visit us."

"And we love to know what they think of us," added Lady Margaret Solby, who had drawn near the General and now placed herself in front of him, that he might have an opportunity of noting at his ease all the good points of a handsome Englishwoman.

"I have never," said Sabaroff to Lord Bentham, "met such kind and hospitable people as your compatriots; abroad they are sometimes haughty and, I may add" ...

"Extremely disagreeable," said his lords.h.i.+p, finis.h.i.+ng the sentence.

"No, I do not say that. In any case, that could only be on the surface, for at home they are a revelation, really the most charming hosts in the world. To study a man, you must study him when he is at home. On foreign soil he is playing a part that he only knows imperfectly. He is hampered, and is scarcely a free agent. He is often misunderstood. He is not in his proper setting, much less in his element. I am convinced that when the Creator made man, He must have said to him, 'Thou shalt stay at home.'"

"A commandment which we English have sadly neglected, then," remarked Philip.

"And our English women, General?" questioned Lady Margaret, simpering and attracting his attention by expert fan wavings to a figure which she knew was above criticism, a figure such as English women can claim almost a monopoly in.

"Oh, they are beautiful, they are glorious!" said Sabaroff, with the air of a connoisseur; "they are dreams, angels of beauty. What flowing lines, what graceful proportions, what lovely complexions, what fine delicately carved features! They are vignettes! When an Englishwoman is beautiful, madame, she is beyond compet.i.tion."

"And when she is ugly?" said Lady Margaret.

"Oh, Heaven help her!" said Lorimer, who had just been introduced to Sabaroff, and who, surrounded as he was by pretty women, did not fear to risk a joke at the expense of the absent, who are always out of it.

"I am very proud, General, to hear your Excellency express yourself so warmly on the subject of English women's beauty," exclaimed Lady Margaret.

"And all those attributes of the beautiful woman," murmured Sabaroff in her ear, "I find united near me."

And with a rapid and comprehensive glance he made an inventory of her charms.

Sabaroff had as keen a scent for game as the huntsman's dog, and he could recognise a coquette a mile off. He knew just how much he could say to certain women without running the risk of offending them. Lady Margaret flirted her fan as every woman should do in such a circ.u.mstance, made a profound curtsey to the General, and from behind her fan shot at him, out of the corners of her eyes, the invitation of the flirt, which seems to promise so much, but which means so little. I think it was Georges Sand who wittily said, "The flirt is a woman who signs a bill with the firm intention of not honouring her signature."

In the centre of a neighbouring group, Sir Benjamin Pond was holding forth on commerce, politics, the theatre, and fine arts--all subjects were within the domain of this pompous personage with the white waistcoat.

"Yes, the Ministry ought to be impeached for having allowed such an acquisition to go out of the country. We are the richest and most enterprising people in the world, but the most stupid, the most obstinate, and the slowest to adopt new ideas"--he looked round him at the rooms. "What a house he has, this lucky dog! Six months ago he was living in a little shanty in St. John's Wood. What luxury! Sh.e.l.ls pay better than painting. Why, there is Mr. Lorimer; my congratulations; your play is a masterpiece, you have taken London by storm! Oh, but for taking the world by storm, give me the invention of our friend Grantham.

That's a _bon mot_, and not a bad one either."

"What a donkey!" thought Lorimer.

"His sh.e.l.l fell on us like a bomb, eh? Ah, ha, ha!" and as he laughed his loud guffaw, his white waistcoat kept time.

Lorimer slipped away and returned to Dora's side. Pond rejoined him almost immediately.

"Mrs. Grantham, Lady Pond has the greatest desire to see the famous picture."

"What famous picture?" asked Dora.

"Why, the one that all London is talking of--the one I so much wanted to buy six months ago."

"You remember," said Lorimer, "thirty-six by fifty" ...

"Oh, of course. You can see it in the adjoining room, at the end of the small drawing-room."

"Thanks!"

And he set off in the direction indicated.

"Always that picture," said Dora to Lorimer; "my head is dazed; why do we not go to supper and put an end to this? Holloa! What is that frantic applause for?... Listen, they are going on with it, they are encoring something. What can it be all about?"

Lorimer pressed through the crowd a little, and then came back to Dora.

"You may count upon something spicy," said he; "it is Mimi Latouche, once the darling of Paris, now all the rage in London. Did you ask her here to-night?"

"I asked her--that is to say, the impresario who has charge of my programme sent her."

"Don't apologise; Mimi is all the go; it is who shall have her; and I suppose you ought to consider yourself lucky to be able to serve her up to your guests. You used to live in an artistic circle, that you could charm with a Beethoven quartette. Now you move in a set where cla.s.sical music would clear your drawing-room as rapidly as a raid of police would a gambling den."

Mimi Latouche had just finished her second song. There was a fresh sound of applause, and cries of "Bravo" were heard as she left the small drawing-room accompanied by de Lussac, and followed by half a dozen young men. She pa.s.sed in front of Dora, and brought up near the door by de Lussac.

"_Hein!_ Georges, don't you think I knock 'em with my songs?"

"They are enchanted with you, you electrify them. Your songs are awfully jolly, as they say here--light, crisp, and so daring; but these people have not understood, and if they had, it would not matter; they will applaud, when it is done in a foreign language, a thing that they would not tolerate a moment in their own."

"Your English people, my boy, are hypocrites. When I am in the bill at _Les amba.s.sadeurs_, the place is always full of English--my songs are _canaille_, aren't they? really _canaille_. The English like that kind of thing. They give me ovations at the Pavilion every night, and I get bouquets by the bushel. Why, old chappie, since I took up the _canaille_ line I have been making my four hundred pounds a week. I have an offer of ten thousand pounds, to appear in New York for six weeks. Would you believe it? I say, Georges, look what I found in my box at the Pav.

to-night"; and she showed de Lussac a lovely bouquet of white orchids.

"Superb!" exclaimed the young man.

"Yes, old boy, but look what there is inside it."

So saying, she drew out a handsome bracelet of rubies and diamonds.

"Exquisite!" said de Lussac; "is it the price of laxity hidden in the emblem of chast.i.ty? It is a diplomatist who sent you that. Flowers have often served as Cupid's letter-box."

"Hus.h.!.+ it is from Sabaroff. The bracelet is worth four hundred pounds, at least."

"Sabaroff? Why, he is here."

"I know that very well," said Mimi; "look at him over there talking to the lady in pearl grey."