The Pit Town Coronet: A Family Mystery, Volume 1 (of 3) by Margaret Vandercook
CHAPTER XI.
A MEETING IN THE GOOD OLD STYLE.
Lord Spunyarn woke with a very bad headache indeed, the morning afterthe ball at Papayani's. He hurried to commence his dressing, for hisvalet on awakening him had presented a thin and varnished card, bearinga portentous coronet and the name of the Comte de Kerguel. The man toldhim that the visitor had come on business of the most urgent nature.What his business was, Spunyarn was well aware. Knowing that, next togetting married, a Frenchman looks upon the delivery of a hostilemessage, as the most important, pleasant, and serious event of life;Spunyarn wisely dressed himself with care and deliberation. When heentered his sitting-room M. de Kerguel rose and profoundly saluted him.
"Milor Spunyarn. I have the honour of addressing him?"
"Yes, it's quite right, that's me Please be seated."
The Frenchman sat himself down bolt upright.
"I suppose, Lord Spunyarn, that my visit is not unexpected. I had thehonour to call upon your friend Monsieur Haggard, to demand satisfactionfrom him on the part of my friend, Monsieur Barbiche. You, I believe,were present at the whole affair. Monsieur Haggard has referred me toyou as his friend."
Spunyarn bowed, stretched out his long legs towards the fire, andopening his cigarette case offered it to Monsieur de Kerguel.
"Won't you smoke?" he said.
A French gentleman in a new frock coat, on the most serious of allmissions, the bearer of a hostile message to a man he has never met inhis life before, is asked to smoke!
A crowd of strange thoughts passed through his mind. Are theseEnglishmen cowards? He drew himself up more stiffly than before, as hedeclined the offer.
"Have you breakfasted?" said his hospitable lordship, ignoring thegesture.
"Lord Spunyarn," replied the Frenchman, "I come to you this morningpurely as the emissary of my insulted friend; not to accept of yourkindness, or to trespass on your hospitality."
"Oh, of course I understand that; but you see we English don't fightduels as a rule. Of course I should be sorry to balk you, but can't itbe arranged?"
"Lord Spunyarn, you are aware that my friend was struck. In my country,no gentleman receives a blow without avenging it. Least of all ajournalist or a diplomate. My friend Monsieur Barbiche was one, and isthe other. In speaking of arrangement, milor, I would suggest that weare wasting time."
"But I don't quite see that," persisted Spunyarn, strong in his ideathat the man who fights a duel is a fool. "You see there was a lady inthe matter, and your friend insulted her. Why man, he actually touchedher, I saw him do it."
"Milor, ladies who go to masked balls are accustomed to such marks ofattention. What my friend did was but a condescension on his part. Butthere was a blow struck, milor. Besides this, Monsieur Haggard hasreferred me to his friend Lord Spunyarn, I suppose with a definitepurpose, and not with the intention of causing me to listen to, shall wesay homilies, from his lordship."
"The whole affair's a beastly nuisance. I don't understand these things,but I will try to settle the matter."
"Milor, the matter admits of no settlement," said the Breton menacingly,rising from his chair.
"I tell you plainly, Monsieur de Kerguel, it is very much against thegrain that I have anything to do with the matter. Unfortunately, as yousay, I was present, and I tell you that our friend Barbiche behaved likea lunatic. Why he kicked _my_ hat off, and I don't want to call himout."
Monsieur de Kerguel smiled. "If your lordship is in any way aggrieved bymy friend's conduct, you have your remedy."
"Oh, I could have had my remedy last night; if I had felt aggrieved, asyou call it, I should have done exactly what Haggard did--I should havepunched his head, you know."
"Milor, no man of whatever nationality, as you happily express it,'punches the head' of a French gentleman with impunity, unlessperadventure," said de Kerguel with an insolent smile, "he is a cowardas well as a boxer."
"Do sit down," said Lord Spunyarn imperturbably. "He's no coward," andtaking from his pocket a note, he handed it to the Frenchman.
The letter was short but emphatic.
"DEAR SHIRTINGS,
"That ass Barbiche will send a friend to you asking for a meeting. Agree to anything he wishes and oblige
"Yours,
"R. HAGGARD."
The Frenchman read the letter, reseated himself, and with a bow handedback the note.
"I was precipitate, Milor. All this is very irregular; but we advance,though slowly."
"Yes, I suppose we do, worse luck. I'll tell you what I'll do. OldPepper is stopping in this hotel; there seems to be nothing else for it,I'll send for him," said his lordship with a sigh, and he rang the bell.
The waiter who answered it was directed to present his lordship'scompliments to General Pepper, and to request his immediate presence.
The Indian warrior had just breakfasted, and entered the room in a fewminutes. He was introduced to the Frenchman; a few words from LordSpunyarn sufficiently explained the matter.
"I understand then, Monsieur de Kerguel," said the general, "that we arethe challenged party. As such we are entitled to a choice of weapons?"
Monsieur de Kerguel bowed. "Assuredly, Monsieur le General," he replied.
"You will excuse us then for an instant?" said he, as he motionedSpunyarn to the window. "This is a beastly affair, your lordship. Itwon't admit of arrangement. Do you know if the Frenchman is best atswords or pistols?"
"Can't say, I'm sure," replied his lordship; "probably he's a dab atboth. I know he was a newspaper man. They all are fighting men."
"It's most unfortunate for our man; they'll have to fight. Is Haggardany good at either?"
"I don't think he can shoot, at least not in a regulation affair. I knowhe can use a revolver, and he is very good at single-stick."
"It's a heavy responsibility," replied the general seriously. "If it hadbeen arranged for this morning at dawn we might have had a chance withthe pistols, for perhaps the Frenchman's hand would have been unsteady.I suppose it was a good knock-down blow?"
"A regular snorter!" said his lordship with enthusiasm.
"Most unfortunate. Well, we must try our luck with a regulation sabre;they can't well refuse it; ours is the stronger and bigger man. I don'tthink there's any room for doubt, eh? But it's a precious nuisance.Man's got his wife here too. It's sure to be in the papers. Beastlynuisance; we shall all have to clear out, for I suppose it won't be amere matter of scratches. It must come off at once too, or we shall besuspected of shirking. I think that's the only course," said the generalas he pulled down his wristbands.
"I'm afraid so," said his lordship.
They rejoined the Frenchman.
"Monsieur de Kerguel," said the general, seating himself, "we haveelected to choose sabres, regulation sabres; you have no objection, Isuppose?"
"Sir, the weapon is unusual. As you are doubtless aware, betweencivilians the small-sword, the rapier and the pistol are what areusually employed. The sabre is unusual, and as a rule only employed insettling the little differences of officers of cavalry."
"Monsieur de Kerguel, his lordship and I are here in the interests ofour friend Haggard. You are possibly unaware that among Englishgentlemen the duel has ceased to be a means in these degenerate days ofsettling disputes. Unfortunately our principal has directed us inwriting to agree to your wishes; and his lordship here has, somewhatindiscreetly, I must remark, taken you into his confidence. As he hasdone so, sir," said the general, "and bearing in mind that we are in aforeign country, and that unfortunately a blow has been struck, we feelourselves reluctantly compelled to accept the proposed meeting. It istherefore our duty, sir, to protect our principal, and we cannot consentto abate one jot or tittle of our rights. Should you decline the weaponproposed no meeting can evidently take place," here the general gave alittle sigh; "Lord Spunyarn is of the same opinion. It is then for youto accept or refuse; in the latter case the matter must definitely endh
The Frenchman paused and thought.
"Unfortunately, gentlemen," he replied, "my principal has left me nochoice; he naturally declines any apology----"
"You will please to observe. Monsieur de Kerguel, that we have offerednone," interrupted the general; "in our humble opinion the originalinsult, as well as the challenge, comes from you, and we cannot deviatefrom our position. We decline to modify our terms in any way. And Iwould respectfully suggest that this interview must definitely terminatethe matter one way or the other. I would remark," fiercely added thegeneral, "that neither we nor our principal are to be cajoled orintimidated."
"It shall be as you say, general. Nothing remains then, I think, for usbut to name a time and place. The weapons, the most unusual weapons, weare reluctantly compelled to accept under protest. Have you anysuggestion to offer, general?"
"None whatever, sir. One party shall provide a surgeon, the other a pairof ordinary cavalry sabres. You as a resident in this infernal hole candoubtless suggest a suitable spot for the meeting. Of course you willbe provided with a second friend. As to time, the sooner the better. Wethen, if it suits you, will bring a pair of regulation sabres. You,perhaps, will bring a doctor who will act for both men. Perhaps you willalso oblige us by naming the time and place of meeting."
"Gentlemen, the mill at St. Stefano is only four miles off; it issecluded; we shall not be disturbed. You know the place? Five o'clockwill, I think, suit us all? Is it agreed?"
The general bowed.
"Gentlemen, I have the honour to salute you," said Monsieur de Kerguelwith a profound obeisance.
The general rang the bell, and Monsieur Barbiche's friend took hisleave.
"Thank God!" piously exclaimed the general. "I had him there; Haggard isthe bigger and more powerful man, of that there is no doubt. It shallnot be my fault if they don't settle their differences with the longestand heaviest pair of regulation sabres to be had in Rome for love ormoney. It's quite against the rule, you know, but you say our man isgood at single-stick, so he may have the luck to smash him or cut himdown before the Frenchman spits him, as he is bound to do if he gets thechance. And I'll tell you what it is, my lord, I'll take a glass ofcuracao, for I'm dry with talking."
The curacao was duly brought, and certainly the general deserved it. Theexperienced warrior had perceived that De Kerguel was bent on mischief,and by his own coyness he had succeeded in beguiling the Frenchman intoaccepting a weapon of the use of which his principal was probablytotally ignorant. The men would then theoretically meet on an equality.But a cavalry sabre is a big and comparatively awkward weapon, andsupposing that both were equally unskilled in its use, Haggard, as thetaller and stronger man, would certainly have the advantage. Besidesthis the old general meant it, when he had stated his design to providea specially heavy pair of weapons.
In his great anxiety to secure a meeting at any price, De Kerguel hadbeen compelled to accept the general's ultimatum with regard to weapons,"these or none;" but he knew that his principal thirsted for blood, sohe gave way, and it seemed to him at the time that the trifling matterof providing the weapons was of little moment. But ere he reached hisfriend's hotel he felt that he had been caught napping.
Barbiche was extended upon a couch. A huge piece of black court plaisterhid the wound on his swollen lip, a cup of _tisane_ stood upon thetable. He was dabbing his forehead with toilet vinegar. His head wasbound with a scarlet and yellow silk handkerchief which he wore afterthe manner of a nightcap, as is the custom of his country. As his friendentered he sprang to his feet.
"Have you arranged it, De Kerguel? Will he meet me, or are theseEnglishmen brave only with their fists?"
"Do not excite yourself, Emile; you will have need of all your skill, ofall your courage."
"He will come, then, this protector of the _demi-monde_, this modelmoral English husband. Say, is it sword or pistols, De Kerguel?"
"Ah! my poor Barbiche, I fear that I have, as our American friends say,'given you away.'"
"You don't mean to say that the coward has apologized? This was no casefor an apology, De Kerguel, as you know."
"I wish it had been," said his friend; "unfortunately you are to fight."
Barbiche instantly threw himself into a Napoleonic attitude. Under suchcircumstances a Frenchman always feels himself a hero, and invariablyunconsciously assumes the favourite pose of the Little Corporal.
"Yes, you are to fight, my poor friend, but with cavalry sabres."
Barbiche suddenly buried his face in his hands, and exclaimed in abroken voice, "Oh, my mother!"
When a Frenchman is in a very deep hole indeed, he always apostrophizeshis mother; on ordinary occasions he thinks little enough about her.
"Kerguel," he cried at length, looking up reproachfully at his friend,"you must have been mad. The sabre, as you know, is only used amongcavalry officers; the pistol or the small-sword are the arms ofgentlemen."
"And also of journalists, my friend. Of that the _ruse_ old general, ourman's friend, was unfortunately too well aware. You had tied me down tootightly, my Barbiche; my instructions were to obtain a meeting at anyprice. It was the choice of Hobson, that or none."
Barbiche placed his hand to his swollen lip.
"And you were right, my friend. Let us embrace."
They did so with effusion.
De Kerguel explained all the arrangements to his principal. Then theydrove to the nearest cavalry barrack, where they had acquaintances; andthat excellent fencer, Monsieur Barbiche, received an hour's lesson inthe use of the sabre from the _maitre d'armes_. But he found the weaponunwieldy, and he returned to his hotel a sadder man than he left it.
Old General Pepper ate his lunch with considerable relish. He was sickand tired of Rome, its churches, its ruins, and its priests. He longed,with an ardent longing, for that paradise of retired military men, "thesweet shady side of Pall Mall;" he longed, too, for the whist tables atthe Pandemonium, and his so-called friends at that establishment. Hefelt that if he only got safely across the frontier he would be one ofthe lions of the season; for he was certain that the business he wasbent upon that afternoon would be no child's play. He himself was noparticular friend of Haggard's; but he was proud of having done his bestfor his man. "After all," said he to himself, "it's six of one, andhalf-a-dozen of the other. It's lucky for Haggard that Spunyarn sent forme, or that cursed Frenchman would have had his life to a certainty, forthe friend meant fighting; I could see it in his eye."
Such thoughts as these passed through the worthy officer's mind as hecarefully packed his portmanteau. Then he paid his bill. "Now," hesoliloquized, "this is what I call being sacrificed. Of one of thesefellows I know absolutely nothing, and precious little of the other. Butin the cause of honour I shall probably have to run half across Europe,and the worst of it is, at my own expense."
Then the general started out to secure the longest and heaviest pair ofcavalry sabres he could find in Rome.
Haggard was equally active. He informed his wife and her cousin thatthey must leave Rome at once; the convenient excuse of an outbreak ofcholera in the city was a sufficiently valid one for the ladies. By twoo'clock Mrs. Haggard and Lucy, their maid Hephzibah, and Haggard'suseful and polyglot valet, a Swiss, named Capt, were _en route_ forGeneva.
"Business, my dear, will detain me here till over to-morrow," saidHaggard, as he embraced his pretty wife upon the platform; "but, pleaseGod, I shall see you then." Perhaps his voice faltered a little, as thepossibility flashed through his mind that perchance, in this world, hemight never gaze again into those loving, trustful eyes. One more kissat the carriage-window and the train started, for even Italian trainsmust start at last. Haggard stood gazing after the disappearingcarriages. Then he lit a big cigar and went back to his hotel. Then, asa good man of business, he made his will. It was short and to thepoint. He left everything he had in the world to his dear wife, GeorginaHaggard. He rang for a couple of waiters, who duly witnessed it. Andthen from his pocket-book he to
Punctually as the clock struck five, Monsieur Barbiche's faultlessbrougham and high-stepping horse drew up at the old mill, the onlybuilding which remained of the ancient village of St. Stefano. Theplace was well chosen. There was not a soul about. Barbiche, his facestill very pale, dressed in spotless black, in his button-hole the redribbon, so dear to every Frenchman's heart, and accompanied by hisfriend De Kerguel, stepped out. They were followed by a little dried-upItalian army surgeon, who carried under his arm an ominous-looking blackcase. They made for the miller's orchard at once.
They were not destined to be kept in suspense, for Haggard and his partyhad preceded them. All three Englishmen, Haggard, the general and LordSpunyarn, were attired in ordinary walking dress; the general andSpunyarn advanced to meet De Kerguel. Barbiche and the surgeon remaineda little apart.
"Gentlemen," said De Kerguel, as he courteously raised his hat, "we oweyou an apology."
General Pepper's ruddy face assumed a purple hue. "Did these fellowsmean to cry off after all?" But he was soon reassured.
"We have thought it better," said the Frenchman with a smile, "to avoidmixing up any one else in this unfortunate affair. Hence, gentlemen, wehave dispensed with the usual second _temoin_. Dr. Battista, of thePapal Zouaves, is present. We had better perhaps lose no time."
"Be good enough," said the general, "to look at these." And from underhis blue military cloak, which lay upon the ground, he drew a pair ofregulation sabres, perhaps a little exceeding the ordinary length. Theywere heavy, murderous-looking weapons.
"I cannot object, gentlemen," said the Frenchman, as he carefullymeasured them and weighed them in either hand. "But----" here heeloquently shrugged his shoulders.
The expectant adversaries lost no time. They divested themselves oftheir coats and vests, and, bare-headed, each advanced to receive hisweapon.
The general traced two lines on the dusty earth, about eight feet apart.Barbiche and Haggard took their places. The old general stood betweenthem, but a little to one side; he held his stick, with the point raiseda little from the ground, ready to dash aside the blades the instantthat blood should be drawn.
"_En garde, messieurs_," exclaimed De Kerguel.
Both men put themselves at once on the defensive: their blades crossed,but the attitudes were different and characteristic. Barbiche, drawinghimself up to his full height, raised his left arm while standing faceto face with his adversary, brought the point of his weapon close to hisfinger tips in salute, and then fell at once into the regulationposition of the French fencing schools--the right foot well forward,both knees considerably bent, the left arm high in air, the elbow at aright angle. He kept his sword pointed at the eyes of his adversary;but he never rested for an instant. He evidently meant business.Haggard, on the contrary, assumed a totally different posture. His leftarm was behind his back, the hand clenched, the right leg perfectlystraight. He held the sabre lower, but the point was kept unwaveringlyat the chest of his enemy; his teeth were set. On his face was thatquasi-good-humoured smile, which is alike assumed by the British boxerand the British ballet-girl when exhibiting their arts.
The Frenchman's blade scintillated in the setting sun around Haggard'smore stiffly held weapon. As it grated against it, first on one sidethen on the other, Barbiche made pass after pass, feint after feint athis impassive adversary. Suddenly he sprang forward with cat-likeagility, his left hand touching the ground, and he made a rapid passfrom below upwards at the Englishman; his point passed dangerously nearhis ribs. It was the well-known extension _en seconde_; a favouritetrick among Parisian swordsmen of the Romantic school. The attemptfailed, and was followed by a rapid succession of miscellaneous thrustsand passes in bewildering variety. The Frenchman never withdrew hisblade; but his very anxiety to make a hit was defeating itself. Suchtactics with the light rapier or small-sword are doubtless correct; butBarbiche forgot the weight of his weapon, and the muscles of his armwere already beginning to tire.
As that experienced swordsman, General Pepper, standing with stickextended, viewed the fight, it seemed to him that Haggard, by remainingpurely on the defensive, ran a considerable risk, but that was Haggard'sbusiness. Perhaps after all his principal meant to take a flesh wound,and so end the matter. "But," thought the general to himself, "he'llfind out his mistake, if that dancing devil gets in one of his viciousthrusts." Spunyarn looked on, and the perspiration streamed from hisface. De Kerguel was no less excited, but he preserved a calm exterior.
More than two minutes had now elapsed since the combat had firstcommenced. These things take longer to tell than to do. Suddenly, in aninstant, Barbiche made a furious lunge at his opponent; the Englishmanparried it with ease, dropping his point lower than usual. As if blindto the consequences, the Frenchman rushed forward with a short sharpcry, his sword passed across Haggard's chest without touching him, butpoor Barbiche had literally impaled himself on his adversary's extendedweapon. His sabre dropped from his hand. He flung both his arms high inair, giving one bitter shriek. His face assumed the expression of oneenduring intense torture, and then was calm again. The body, for he wasdead, _slipped off_ Haggard's sword in a heap at his feet. Haggard flunghis weapon to the ground, and all four men crowded round the corpse.
"He is stone dead," said the surgeon.
There was a solemn silence.
"Save yourselves, gentlemen," at length cried De Kerguel. "I will see tomy unfortunate friend. It was his own fault and _mine_," he said with asigh.
The Englishmen saluted. Haggard resumed his garments, and they hurriedfrom the field, unobserved and unmolested.
Next morning Rome rang with the affair; by noon all three Englishmenwere safely over the frontier.
CHAPTER XII.
THE VILLA LAMBERT.
Twenty-four hours at a Genevese hotel were got through by Georgie andher cousin without difficulty.
"I do think," said Lucy, "that Reginald might have brought us herehimself. I confess that a _tete-a-tete_ of two women is dull; when theyare almost sisters, as a rule it's duller still; though the dulness isfrequently enlivened by a pitched battle. Georgie, why are you not of apugnacious disposition? My fingers literally itch to box some one'sears; as for Hephzibah, I've no patience with her."
"I noticed that you had set her crying again, Lucy, for about the tenthtime to-day."
"And serve her right, she's over head and ears in love with thatpriceless jewel, your husband's man; it's as plain as the nose on herface, and there's no doubt of the plainness of that. I know thesymptoms, they are unmistakable: they always are, among the ministeringclasses. He was Capt before, now it's 'Mr. Capt' here and 'Mr. Capt'there. Mistering is always the first sign, Georgie. No, I've no patiencewith her at all. It appears he gave her a thermometer about a week ago;she has carried this thing about in her pocket ever since; the mercuryhas got separated, and she passes her whole time in weeping and shakingthe horrid thing, and trying to get it back again. Now I ask you,Georgie, just look at her."
A mirror, turned towards an open door, disclosed the lovelorn Hephzibahin the next room. Her proceedings were sufficiently grotesque. In herhand she held a small ornamental thermometer; she would shake itviolently in the air, she would then regard it intently with a puzzledexpression, then she would shake her head and proceed to furiouslyagitate it once more. Failing in her purpose, she wept bitterly.
Good-natured as Georgina was, she could not resist a smile.
"Hephzibah, you fool, come here," cried Lucy.
The maid at once secreted the therm
"Why do you hide the nasty thing?" said Lucy.
"Oh, miss, I'm ashamed."
"And what are you crying for?"
"Please, miss, because of the omen."
"What do you mean?" said Georgina; "do calm yourself, Hephzibah."
"Oh, miss, only look," cried the girl, as she took the scientificlove-token from its hiding place; "the quicksilver have separated, neverto be re-united, and isn't that an omen, miss?" Here the maid shook thethermometer with redoubled fury.
"You stupid creature, so you believe in all that nonsense, do you?"
"I may be stupid, Miss Lucy, but I've never known a sign or omen fail.Didn't the cook at The Warren, miss, predict, with coffee grounds, thatI should be engaged to a foreign gentleman, but that some one youngerand more beautiful would prove a jealous rival? Here I am engaged, miss,or as good, to Mr. Capt; and I know what this omen means. You may laugh,miss, but it's a very serious thing."
"I shouldn't wonder at all, Hephzibah; the hotel prospectus says thereare no less than fifty chambermaids here. Perhaps even fifty jealousrivals."
"Mr. Capt don't demean himself to chambermaids, Miss Lucy," retorted theabigail with angry scorn.
"Oh, I've no doubt Capt is ambitious; perhaps he looks higher. Perhaps Ishall be your rival, Hephzibah."
"You wouldn't have the heart to do it, miss," said the girl in allseriousness.
Mrs. Haggard gave her cousin a reproving glance, but Lucy imperturbablycontinued:
"Well, Hephzibah," she said, "I think you may consider yourself safefrom me, at least; but I'll help you if you'll let me."
Ladies don't wink, they only imperceptibly droop their eyelids, but theglance that Lucy gave her cousin was terribly like a wink, and brimmingover with malice.
"Yes," she went on. "Light that candle, you stupid creature; now holdyour thermometer close to the flame; we shall soon see what the omen isworth."
The maid did as she was bid, and carefully watched the tube.
"Well, are the separated fates getting any nearer?" inquired the youngmistress with affected solicitude.
"Oh, miss, they are coming together gradually, but very slowly, miss."
"Get the thing nearer to the candle, then."
Poor Hephzibah obeyed; she little suspected the heartless trick playedat her expense.
"Oh, miss," she delightedly exclaimed, "they'll join in anotherinstant."
Bang went the fragile bulb, as it splintered into a thousand atoms, andthe mercury shot in sparkling globules over the table.
Lucy's ringing laugh resounded through the room.
But the matter was no joke to Hephzibah, her pale lips becamecolourless; she pressed her hand to her heart with a gesture full ofanguish, recovered herself with difficulty, gave forth a few short sharpsobs, cast an almost menacing look upon her younger mistress, thenturned and rushed from the room.
"How could you have the heart to tease her so?" said Georgie with honestindignation. "I'm ashamed of you, Lucy; you've no right to trifle withher feelings."
"Trifle with her fiddlesticks," laughed the girl.
But a knock at the door interrupted them; the discreet Capt entered,bearing a telegram upon a salver.
Mrs. Haggard, to whom the envelope was addressed, tore it open with someanxiety; her face assumed a pleased expression.
"Order a carriage at once, Capt," she said.
The valet withdrew to execute the command.
The telegram was from Haggard; it was as follows:
"_Spunyarn and I are on the road, and shall reach Geneva by last train. You had better go to the Villa Lambert and arrange for taking up our quarters there, if you like the place. All well--H._"
Georgie handed the paper to her cousin, the latter clapped her handswith glee. In a woman's life there is nothing more delightful thanarranging a home, though it be but a temporary one.
The girls hurried to prepare for their drive. And Mrs. Haggard, afterattempting to soothe the wounded feelings of her maid, directed her toaccompany them.
With Capt on the box, the young wife and her cousin, and their stillruffled attendant, started on the lovely drive along the margin of thelake for the villa which Haggard had secured, should it meet with theirmutual approval, as a home for his wife and cousin during his shortprojected necessary absence in America.
As seen from the lake the Villa Lambert, which stood quite alone, gaveone the idea of the place a poet would choose for his meditations. Thevilla and its terrace were built of white stone, but a large portion ofthe walls was covered with ivy. The house itself was embedded in athickly-wooded garden where the trees were just budding into leaf.Privacy was evidently what had been aimed at in the arrangement of theplace. On looking at it one would instinctively say, _here_ is rest. Alarge _porte cochere_, which had evidently been long unused, was thechief entrance to the place, and a small wicket, pierced by a grille,and surmounted by a big bell in an iron cage, was the only other meansof getting into the garden. The active Capt descended, and seizing thesubstantial handle rang loudly. The bark of a dog was the only answer,but after repeating the summons several times, the trap in the wicketopened and disclosed the surly face of an old Savoyard. The gifted Captaddressed the old man in numerous dialects, but no answering smile ofintelligence illuminated the sulky wooden face; the barred aperture wasclosed with an angry slam, and Capt instantly recommenced his solo uponthe bell. Again the trap opened and a weather-beaten crone answered hissummons; at length the door itself was unbarred, and Mr. Capt hastenedto assist his mistresses to alight. He explained to them that theguardians of the villa were a Savoyard and his wife, and that the manwas probably deaf, but that the woman had expressed her readiness toshow them over the house and grounds.
The garden was full of trees and thick with evergreen shrubs; the wallscovered, as they are in most gardens on the Continent, with carefullytrained espaliers, many of which were already white with blossom, whichpromised an abundant crop. Huge clumps of narcissus gave out their heavyodour; it was too early for other flowers, save the China roses andfuchsias, whose bright colours enlivened the place. The beds werebordered, as in many foreign gardens, by pieces of plank painted abright blue; the paths, so different from our hard trim English gravelwalks, were loose shingle, which had been carefully raked. A goat,chained to a peg, grazed on the unmown lawn; the house itself wasjealously shut up, storm blinds and jalousies covering every window.
The uncommunicative old gardener continued his interrupted vocation; hiswife, quitting the party and entering the house by a back door, suddenlyflung open the windows of the drawing-room, and so admitted thevisitors.
There is always an air of discomfort about a furnished house, a kind ofgrim bareness that suggests an asylum or a prison, rather than a home;and in foreign furnished houses this is specially apparent: there arethe regulation amount of chairs and tables it is true; if there are anyornaments they are always either damaged or in bad taste: they generallycombine both qualities. It was so at the Villa Lambert; but everythingwas spotlessly clean, everything was scrupulously cared for; the chairsstood ranged against the wall in a melancholy manner, cruelPhilistine-looking chairs and guiltless of cushions. There were two hardformal-looking couches, with straight backs and spider legs. There was asort of creepy look about the whole place.
"I wonder where the last proprietor hung himself, dear?" whispered Lucyin her cousin's ear.
But from the rather dismal _salon_ they passed into a more cheerfulroom. As the old housekeeper opened the shutters one by one streams ofstrong sunlight entered the place; the floor was inlaid wood, the wallswere panelled to the ceiling, and elaborately carved; the ceiling itselfwas of polished wood, beautifully veined; the furniture was of oak,heavy and substantial; attempt at ornament there was none, nor wasornament needed, for from the windows of this room one looked outstraight over the blue waters of the lake. The cheerful sound of musiccame from the deck of a big saloon steamer, bearing its crowd of noisytouris
Lucy clapped her hands with delight, her more staid cousin was rapt inpleased astonishment. In an instant the thousand and one well-knowndescriptions ran through her mind, and she thought of the impassionedpicture of the palace on the Como lake, which Claude Melnotte had pouredinto Pauline's delighted ear. Ought she not to be happy? Was not herhandsome husband the very ideal Claude?
Both girls were enthusiastic; they spent a long afternoon determiningthis, arranging that. But spring evenings in Switzerland are chilly;Capt suggested their return to the hotel. They reluctantly bade farewellto the little villa; but during all the long drive back they talked ofnothing but the furnishing of the various rooms, the things that must behad, the things they could not do without. All this was argued _pro_ and_con._; colours were vital matters, fashion equally important; but notone thought did the ladies give themselves as to the cost. Happy girls,they were quite right; money in such a case as this was no object. Luckyare they who have not to count the cost, these are the people who arethe real privileged classes; it's easy enough not to count the cost atall, in fact it's like a pleasant dream, a dream which has an unpleasantawakening at the shrill sounds of the piper who has to be paid.
The girls sat up till midnight, at which time Haggard and his friendwere due from Rome. They were both travel-worn and had not much totell. Their business in Rome had been transacted. No, they were nothungry; they had dined in the sleeping-car.
The next day, as gently as possible, Haggard broke to his wife the factthat it was incumbent upon him to start at once for his Americanproperty. The blow came not unexpectedly, and Georgie made the best ofit. But the husband stayed a couple of days in Geneva; there were papersto sign in reference to the little villa, a pair of ponies had to bebought; and the numerous little matters of business to settle, whichsomehow or other it falls invariably to the lot of man to transact.
The parting came at last; it took place on the platform of the station.There is among women always a melancholy satisfaction in seeing the verylast of the beloved object. Georgie was no exception to the rule.Spunyarn, who was to accompany his friend, at a discreet distance waslaughing and chatting merrily with the younger girl. True that at onetime there had been rumours of an attachment between the pair; we, whoare behind the scenes, know that both were perfectly heartwhole.
"Will the train never start, Lord Spunyarn? I'm afraid all this willupset my cousin; these partings are dreadful things after all."
"Think what my feelings must be, Miss Warrender. I, who have beencongratulated by my friends over and over again in reference to mysupposed good luck, and who will have now to face the fire of theirchaff at my cruel rejection."
"Your lordship seems to bear it bravely enough."
"With profoundest equanimity, Miss Warrender. I leave the lady who hasrejected me, in maiden meditation fancy free, at least, I suppose so;that thought is balm to my wounded soul. Hope, they say, springseternal in the human breast. Miss Warrender may yet change her mind."
"She will not fail to let you know by telegram should that unlikelyevent occur, Lord Spunyarn."
"I'm afraid you've destroyed my future peace of mind. I now shall neverhear a double knock with equanimity; depend upon it our time has not yetcome."
"Yours has at all events, Lord Spunyarn, for if you don't get in youwill certainly be left behind."
"Good-bye, then, Miss Warrender; parting is such sweet sorrow, I e'encould say good-bye until to-morrow."
"Now that is very sweet of you. I little thought you were Romeo still."
"Now and ever, Miss Warrender," said the young man with mock passion, asthey laughingly shook hands, and he hastened to enter the carriage. "Onething I have forgotten, though," he said, "don't let your cousin see theSociety papers."
The parting between Haggard and his wife was necessarily what suchpartings usually are: it was painful to both; it would not be amusing tothe reader.
Georgie's eyes were full of tears as her husband embraced her for thelast time. He only tore himself from her reluctant arms as the finalwhistle sounded from the engine. As the train slowly moved from theplatform, the girls walked hurriedly along for a few yards. Haggardleant from the window, waving his hand; his wife gazed after thevanishing train, standing like Niobe, dissolved in tears.
Even Haggard, case-hardened as he was, didn't light his cigar for fulltwenty minutes.
That evening Lucy Warrender obtained with some difficulty a copy of'_The Sphere_;' this is what she read there:
"Seldom indeed now-a-days do Englishmen fight duels. In this they arewise, for with us the man who fights a duel receives no sympathy, andwhat is more unpleasant, generally becomes an object of ridicule.Sometimes, however, a duel is unavoidable. We understand that this wasthe case in the late unfortunate affair at Rome. The provocation wasgiven by the man who fell. M. Barbiche was well known in London society.As usual, the cause of the quarrel was a lady. A correspondent in Rome,upon whose information we can rely, informs us that a blow was struck byMr. R---- H----, but only after the grossest provocation. The meetingtook place within twenty-four hours; unfortunately the result was fatal.The survivor and the seconds of both parties crossed the frontier atonce, but one of the friends of the deceased took the precaution to drawup a _proces verbal_ of the affair before he left, and transmitted it tothe authorities. Society in Rome has been stirred to its foundations,for both the parties were well known. The weapons were sabres. Weunderstand that the seconds of Mr. R---- H----, a well-known sportingnobleman and General C----, are, as well as their principal, members ofthe P----m Club. General C---- is now in England."
To Lucy Warrender, who now heard of the matter for the first time, theseinitials were no enigma. The cause of Haggard's mysterious detention inRome, and of their own sudden flitting, became at once clear to her. "Itwas very thoughtful of Spunyarn," she said to herself; "he was quiteright, Georgie certainly shouldn't see this."
The careful Lucy took every precaution. The consequences of the incidentat Papayani's ball remained a secret to the young wife.
The ladies were glad of the temporary excitement of their move to theVilla Lambert, which they made the day after the departure of the twomen. And now commenced a life of seclusion and retirement, which both ofthem enjoyed from its very novelty. The old quiet life that they hadled at The Warren seemed to recommence once more. They gardened, theydrove out, they rowed and sailed upon the lake, but they declined allacquaintances. The life was monotonous enough and devoid of incident.
Hephzibah Wallis had recovered her spirits, her Swiss lover was moreattentive than ever; he escorted her on a Sunday evening to theProtestant place of worship, and though she didn't understand a word,Hephzibah enjoyed the service. In the mysterious rite of "walking out"going to church together forms an important factor; it is the outwardand visible sign of "keeping company;" it is the inevitable step tobeing "asked in church," a kind of probationary period, a sort of trialtrip. Mr. Capt was more loquacious than the British man-servant, undersimilar circumstances, would be. He was never tired of drawing out MissWallis on the subject of her young mistresses. The juvenile escapadesof the younger of them were to him a source of endless amusement; heheard all that his inamorata had to tell, nay his interest was so greatin her artless narratives that he would make her repeat them over andover again. The Swiss soon found out that in Hephzibah he was dealingwith a truthful girl; for the tale, though oft repeated, never varied.What girl has any secret from the man she loves? Hephzibah Wallis formedno exception to the rule. But it never dawned on her, at least not then,that she was being "pumped." She put down Mr. Capt's complaisance to hisinterest in her; and though, as servants will, she at times asked himquestions about his master, she merely
Great was Georgie's delight when she got the first letter from herhusband. Till now they had never been separated; is it to be wonderedat, then, that she locked herself up with the treasure? After the usualprotestations and the regulation amount of sentiment, sentiment which,hackneyed though it was, brought ready tears of pleasure into the youngwife's eyes, Haggard announced his immediate departure by the mailsteamer. "I'm off to-morrow, Georgie," he said, "for I find life inLondon without you perfectly unbearable. I am hastening my departurethat we may the sooner meet again," here followed several sentences ofthe usual thing. The fact was that Haggard found himself once more asort of lion in spite of himself, but he also detected a rather chillingreception in many quarters; he was most gushingly received by the leastreputable of his lady acquaintances. Mrs. Charmington, in a long_tete-a-tete_ with which she had favoured him, had called him "herhero." But Mrs. Charmington was already on the wane, and as he had nowish to be her hero now he rather fought shy of her. At the Pandemoniumhe was as popular as ever, rather more so in fact; for since thebaccarat affair, particularly as he was away, he had acted as a sort ofscapegoat for the sins of the many. It was rather a nuisance, too, tofind that wherever he went he excited a considerable amount ofattention. Even when seated in the stalls of his favourite theatres,those temples where the sacred lamp of burlesque is so carefully tended,it was annoying to find the glances of all those airily-costumed andmagnificently-developed females, who are known as the Lotties and theTotties, concentrated on himself.
He had received no invitation to go down to The Warren, but his fatherthe Justice had written him in no measured terms.
"I had thought," he said, "that by this time you would have got tired ofmaking an ass of yourself; you'd better give old Warrender a wide berth;he is furious."
All these things then tended to make a long stay in town distasteful toHaggard, so he went down to Southampton, took his passage for Mexico inthat magnificent steam-ship, the "Capua," and he started, feelinghimself an ill-used man.
END OF VOL I.
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Transcriber's note:
The oe ligature has been expanded.
Most of the apparent printers' errors have been retained. A few have beenchanged, including those listed below.
Page 221 Petrach is now Petrarch and
Page 224 Miugled is now mingled.