Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume Ii Part 15

"Who said so?" replied he, laughing.

"Did she not ask after the d.u.c.h.esse de Montserrat?"

"And then?"

"And didn't you promise to convey her very kind message?"

"To be sure I did. But are you simple enough to think that either of us were serious in what we said? Why, my dear friend, she never saw my aunt in her life; nor, if I were to hint at her inquiry for her to the d.u.c.h.esse, am I certain it would not cost me something like a half million of francs the old lady has left me in her will,--on my word, I firmly believe she'd never forgive it. You know little what these people of the _vieille roche_, as they call themselves, are like. Do you see that handsome fellow yonder, with a star on a blue cordon?"

"I don't know him; but I see he's a Marshal of France."

"Well, I saw that same aunt of mine rise up and leave the room because _he_ sat down in her presence!"

"Oh! that was intolerable."

"So she deemed his insolence. Come, move on; they 're dancing in the next _salon_." And without saying more, we pushed through the crowd in the direction of the music.

It is only by referring to the sensations experienced by those who see a ballet at the Opera for the first time that I can at all convey my own on entering the _salle de danse_. My first feeling was that of absolute shame. Never before had I seen that affectation of stage costume which then was the rage in society. The short and floating jupe--formed of some light and gauzy texture, which, even where it covered the figure, betrayed the form and proportions of the wearer--was worn low on the bosom and shoulders, and attached at the waist by a ribbon, whose knot hung negligently down in seeming disorder. The hair fell in long and floating ma.s.ses loose upon the neck, waving in free tresses with every motion of the figure, and adding to that air of abandon which seemed so studiously aimed at. But more than anything in mere costume was the look and expression, in which a character of languid voluptuousness was written, and made to harmonize with the easy grace of floating movements, and sympathize with gestures full of pa.s.sionate fascination.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Dance 134]

"Now, Burke," said d.u.c.h.esne, as he threw his eyes over the room, "shall I find a partner for you? for I believe I know most of the people here.

That pretty blonde yonder, with the diamond buckles in her shoes, is Mademoiselle de Rancy, with a dowry of some millions of francs; what say you to pus.h.i.+ng your fortune there? Don't forget the _officier d'elite_ is a trump card just now; and there's no time to lose, for there will soon be a new deal."

"Not if she had the throne of France in reversion," said I; turning away in disgust from a figure which, though perfectly beautiful, outraged at every movement that greatest charm of womanhood,--her inborn modesty.

"Ah, then, you don't fancy a blonde!" said he, carelessly, whether wilfully misunderstanding me or not I could not say. "Nor I either,"

added he. "There, now, is something far more to my taste; is she not a lovely girl?"

She to whom he now directed my attention was standing at the side of the room, and leaning on her partner's arm; her head slightly turned, so that we could not see her features, but her figure was actually faultless. Hers was not one of those gossamer shapes which flitted around and about us, balancing on tiptoe, or gracefully floating with extending arms. Rather strongly built than otherwise, she stood with the firm foot and the straight ankle of a marble statue; her arms, well rounded, hung easily from her full, wide shoulders; while her head, slightly thrown back, was balanced on her neck with an air at once dignified and easy. Her dress well suited the character of her figure: it was entirely of black, covered with a profusion of deep lace,--the jupe looped up in Andalusian fas.h.i.+on to display the leg, whose symmetry was perfect. Even her costume, however, had something about it too theatrical for my taste; but there was a stamp of firmness, _fierte_ even, in her carriage and her att.i.tude, that at once showed hers was no vulgar desire of being remarkable, but the womanly consciousness of being dressed as became her. She suddenly turned her head around, and we both exclaimed in the same breath, "How lovely!" Her features were of that brilliant character only seen in Southern blood: eyes large, black, and l.u.s.trous, fringed with lashes that threw their shadow on the very cheek; full lips, curled with an air of almost saucy expression; while the rich olive tint of her transparent skin was scarce colored with the pink flush of exercise, and harmonized perfectly with the proud repose of her countenance.

"She must be Spanish,--that's certain," said d.u.c.h.esne. "No one ever saw such an instep come from this side the Pyrenees; and those eyes have got their look of sleepy wickedness from Moorish blood. But here comes one will tell us all about her."

This was the Baron de Treve,--a withered-looking, dried-up old man, rouged to the eyes, and dressed in the extravagance of the last fas.h.i.+on; the high collar of his coat rising nearly to the back of his head, as his deep cravat in front entirely concealed his mouth, and formed a kind of barrier around his features.

As d.u.c.h.esne addressed him, he stopped short, and a.s.suming an att.i.tude of great intended grace, raised his gla.s.s slowly to his eye, and looked towards the lady.

"Ah! the senorina. Don't you know _her?_ Why, where have you been, my dear chevalier? Oh! I forgot. You've been in Austria, or Russia, or some barbarous place or other. She is the belle, _par excellence_; nothing else is talked of in Paris."

"But her name? Who is she?" said d.u.c.h.esne, impatiently.

"Mademoiselle de Lacostellerie, the daughter of the house," said the baron, completely overcome with astonishment at our ignorance. "And you not to know this!--you, of all men living! Why," he continued, dropping his voice to a lower key, "there never was such a fortune. Mines of rubies and emeralds; continents of coffee, rice, and sandal-wood; spice islands and sugar plantations, to make one's mouth water."

"By Jove, Baron! you seem somewhat susceptible yourself."

"I had my thoughts on the subject," said he, with a half sigh. "But, _helas!_ there are so many ties to be broken! so many tender chains one must snap asunder!"

"I understand," said d.u.c.h.esne, with an air of well-a.s.sumed seriousness; "the thing was impossible. Now, then, what say you to a.s.sist a friend?"

"You,--yourself, do you mean?"

"Of course, Baron; no other."

"Come this way," said the old man, taking him by the arm, and leading him along to another part of the room, while d.u.c.h.esne, with a sly look at me, followed.

While I stood awaiting his return, my thoughts became fixed on d.u.c.h.esne himself, of whose character I never felt free from my misgivings. The cold indifference he manifested on ordinary occasions to everything and everybody, I now saw could give way to strong impetuosity; but even this might be a.s.sumed also. As I pondered thus, I had not remarked that the dance was concluded; and already the dancers were proceeding towards their seats, when I heard my name uttered beside me,--"Capitaine Burke." I turned; it was the countess herself, leaning on the arm of her daughter.

"I wish to present you to my daughter," said she, with a courteous smile. "The college friend and brother officer of your cousin Tascher, Pauline."

The young lady courtesied with an air of cold reserve; I bowed deeply before her; while the countess continued,--

"We hope to have the pleasure of seeing you frequently during your stay in Paris, when we shall have a better opportunity of making your acquaintance."

As I expressed my sense of this politeness, I turned to address a few words to mademoiselle; and requesting to have the honor of dancing with her, she looked at me with an air of surprise, as though not understanding my words, when suddenly the countess interposed,--

"I fear that my daughter's engagements have been made long since; but another night--"

"I will hope--"

But before I could say more, the countess addressed another person near her, and mademoiselle, turning her head superciliously away, did not deign me any further attention; so that, abashed and awkward at so unfavorable a _debut_ in the gay world, I fell back, and mixed with the crowd.

As I did so, I found myself among a group of officers, one of whom was relating an anecdote just then current in Paris, and which I mention merely as ill.u.s.trating in some measure the habits of the period.

At the levee of the Emperor on the morning before, an old general of brigade advanced to pay his respects, when Napoleon observed some drops of rain glistening on the embroidery of his uniform. He immediately turned towards one of his suite, and gave orders to ascertain by what carriage the general had arrived. The answer was, that he had come in a _fiacre_,--a hired vehicle, which by the rules of the Court was not admitted within the court of the Tuileries, and thus he was obliged to walk above one hundred yards before he could obtain shelter. The old officer, who knew nothing of the tender solicitude of the Emperor, was confounded with astonishment to observe at his departure a handsome _caleche_ and two splendid horses at his service.

"Whose carriage is this?" said he.

"Yours, Monsieur le General."

"And the servant, and the horses?"

"Yours, also. His Majesty has graciously been pleased to order them for you; and desires you will remember that the sum of six thousand francs will be deducted from your pay to meet the cost of the equipage which the Emperor deems befitting your rank in the service."

"It is thus," said the narrator, "the Emperor would enforce that liberality on others he so eminently displays himself. The spoils of Italy and Austria are destined, not to found a new _n.o.blesse_, but to enrich the _bourgeoisie_ of this good city of Paris. I say, Edward, is not that d.u.c.h.esne yonder? I thought he was above patronizing the _salons_ of a mere commissary-general."

"You don't know the chevalier," replied the other; "no game flies too high or too low for his mark. Depend upon it, he's not here for nothing."

"If mademoiselle be the object," said a third, "I'll swear he shall have no rivalry on my side. By Jove I I 'd rather face a charge of Hulans than speak to her."

"If thou wert a Marshal of France, Claude, thou wouldst think differently."

"If I were a Marshal of France," repeated he, with energy, "I'd rather marry Minette, the vivandiere of ours."

"And no bad choice either," broke in a large! heavy-looking officer.

"There is but one objection to such an arrangement."

"And that, if I might ask--"