Daniel looked up. In the box which Maxime had pointed out to him he saw a girl of such rare and dazzling beauty, that he could hardly retain a cry of admiration. She was leaning forward, resting on the velvet cushion of her box, in order to hear better.
Her hair, perfectly overwhelming in its richness, was so carelessly arranged, that no one could doubt it was all her own; it was almost golden, but with such a bright sheen, that at every motion sparks seemed to start from its dark masses. Her large, soft eyes were overshadowed by long lashes; and as she now opened them wide, and now half closed them again, they changed from the darkest to the lightest blue.
Her lips smiled in all the freshness and innocence of merry youth, displaying now and then two rows of teeth, matchless in their beauty and regularity.
“Can that be,” said Daniel to himself, “the wretched creature whose portrait Maxime has just given me?”
A little behind her, and half-hid in the shade of the box, appeared a large bony head, adorned with an absurd bunch of feathers. Her eyes flashed indignation; and her narrow lips seemed to say perpetually, “Shocking!” That was Mrs. Brian.
Still farther back, barely discernible after long examination, arose a tall, stiff figure, a bald, shining head, two dark, deep-sunk eyes, a hooked nose, and a pair of immense streaming whiskers. That was the Hon. Thomas Elgin, commonly known as Sir Thorn.
As Daniel was persistently examining the box, with the smiling girl, the stern old woman, and the placid old man in the background, he felt doubts of all kinds creeping into his mind.
Might not Maxime be mistaken? Did he not merely repeat the atrocious slanders of the envious world?
These thoughts troubled Daniel; and he would have mentioned his doubts to Maxime; but his neighbors were enthusiasts about music, and, as soon as he bent over to whisper into his friend’s ear, they growled, and, if he ventured to utter a word, they forced him to be silent. At last the curtain fell. Many left the house; others simply rose to look around; but Maxime and Daniel remained in their seats. Their whole attention was concentrated upon Miss Brandon’s box, when they saw the door open, and a gentleman enter, who, at the distance at which they sat, looked like a very young man. His complexion was brilliantly fair, his beard jet black, and his curly hair most carefully arranged. He had his opera-hat under his arm, a camellia in his button-hole; and his light-yellow kid gloves were so tight, that it looked as if they must inevitably burst the instant he used his hands.
“Count Ville-Handry!” said Daniel to himself.
Somebody touched his shoulder slightly; and, as he turned round, he found it was Maxime, who said with friendly irony,--
“Your old friend, is it not? The happy lover of Miss Brandon?”
“Yes, it is so. I have to confess it.”
He was just in the act of explaining the reasons for his silence, when M. de Brevan interrupted him, saying,--
“Just look, Daniel; just look!”
The count had taken a seat in the front part of the box, by Miss Brandon’s side, and was talking to her with studied affectation, bending over her, gesticulating violently, and laughing till he showed every one of the long yellow teeth which were left him. He was evidently on exhibition, and desired to be seen by everybody. Suddenly, however, after Miss Brandon had said a few words to him, he rose, and went out.
The bell behind the scenes was ringing, and the curtain was about to rise again.
“Let us go,” said Daniel to M. de Brevan: “I am suffering.”
He was really suffering, mortified by the ridiculous scene which Henrietta’s father was playing. But he entertained no longer any doubts; he had clearly seen how the adventuress was spurring on the old man, and fanning his feeble flame.
“Ah! it will be hard work to rescue the count from the wiles of this witch,” said Maxime.
Having left the house, they were just turning into the narrow street which leads to the boulevards, when they saw a tall man, wrapped up in a huge cloak, coming towards them, and behind him a servant with a whole armful of magnificent roses. It was Count Ville-Handry. Coming suddenly face to face upon Daniel, he seemed at first very much embarrassed; then, recovering himself, he said,--
“Why, is this you? Where on earth do you come from?”
“From the theatre.”
“And you run away before the fifth act? That is a crime against the majesty of Mozart. Come, go back with me, and I promise you a pleasant surprise.”
Brevan came up close to Daniel, and whispered to him,--
“Go; here is the opportunity I was wishing for.”
Then he lifted his hat and went his way. Daniel, taken rather by surprise, accompanied the count till he saw him stop near a huge landau, open in spite of the cold weather, but guarded by three servants in gorgeous livery. When they saw the count, they all three uncovered respectfully; but he, without taking any notice of them, turned to the porter who had the flowers, and said,--
“Scatter all these roses in this carriage.”
The man hesitated. He was the servant of a famous florist, and had often seen people pay forty or fifty dollars for such bouquets. He thought the joke was carried too far. However, the count insisted. The roses were piled up in the bottom of the carriage; and, when he had done, he received a handsome fee for his trouble.
Then the count returned to the opera-house, Daniel following him, filled with amazement. Evidently love had made the count young again, and now gave wings to his steps. He ran up the steps of the great porch of the opera-house, and in a few moments he was once more in Miss Brandon’s box. At once he took Daniel by the hand; and, drawing him into the box close to the lady, he said to the young girl,--
“Permit me to present to you M. Daniel Champcey, one of our most distinguished naval officers.”
Daniel bowed, first to her, and then solemnly to Mrs. Brian, and long, stiff Sir Thorn.
“I need not tell you, my dear count,” said Miss Sarah, “that your friends are always welcome here.”
Then, turning to Daniel, she added,--
“Besides, I have long since known you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, sir. And I even know that you are one of the most frequent visitors at Count Ville-Handry’s house.”
She looked at Daniel with a kind of malicious simplicity, and then added,
“I do not mean to say that the count would not be wrong if he attributed your frequent visits exclusively to his own merits. I have heard something of a certain young lady”--
“Sarah,” here broke in Mrs. Brian, “what you say there is highly improper.” This reproof, so far from checking Miss Sarah’s merriment, only seemed to increase it. Without losing sight of Daniel, she turned to her aunt, and said,--
“Since the count is not opposed to this gentleman’s paying his attentions to his daughter, I think I may safely speak of them. It would be such an extraordinary thing, if any thing should happen to interfere with his hopes!”
Daniel, who had blushed all over, suddenly became deadly pale. After all that he had been told, these words sounded to him, in spite of the loud laugh that accompanied them, like a warning and a threat. But he was not allowed the time to reflect. The piece was coming to an end; Miss Brandon was drawing a fur cloak over her shoulders, and left on the count’s arm; while he had to escort Mrs. Brian, being closely followed by tall, stiff Sir Thorn. The landau was at the door. The servants had let down the steps; and Miss Sarah was just getting in. Suddenly, as her foot touched the bottom of the carriage, she drew back, and cried out,--
“What is that? What is in there?”
The count came forward, looking visibly embarrassed.
“You are fond of roses,” he said, “and I have ordered a few.”
With these words he took up some of the leaves, and showed them to her. But immediately Miss Brandon’s terror was changed into wrath.
“You certainly are bent upon making me angry,” she said. “You want people to say everywhere that I make you commit all kinds of follies. What a glorious thing to waste fifty dollars on flowers, when one has I know not how many millions!”
Then, seeing by the light of the street-lamp that the count’s face showed deep disappointment, she said in a tone to make him lose the little reason that was left him,--
“You would have been more welcome if you had brought me a cent’s worth of violets.”
In the mean time Mrs. Brian had taken her seat by Miss Brandon’s side; Sir Thorn had gotten in; and it was now the count’s turn. At the moment when the servant was closing the door, Miss Sarah bent forward toward Daniel, and said,--
“I hope I shall have the pleasure of soon seeing you again. Our dear count will give you my address, and tell you my reception-days. I must tell you that we American girls dote upon naval officers, and that I”--
The remainder was lost in the noise of the wheels. The carriage which took Miss Brandon and Count Ville-Handry away was already at some distance, before Daniel could recover from his amazement, his utter consternation.
All these strange events, coming upon him one by one, in the course of a few hours, and breaking suddenly in upon so calm and quiet a life, overwhelmed him to such a degree, that he was not quite sure whether he was dreaming or awake.
Alas! he was not dreaming. This Miss Sarah Brandon, who had just passed away from him like a glorious vision from on high, was only too real; and there, on the muddy pavement, a handful of rose-leaves bore witness of the power of her charms, and the folly of her aged lover.
“Ah, we are lost!” exclaimed Daniel, in so loud a voice, that some of the passers-by stopped, expecting one of those street-dramas which read so strikingly in the local columns of our papers. They were disappointed, however. Noticing that he attracted attention, Daniel shrugged his shoulders, and quickly walked off towards the boulevards.
He had promised Henrietta to be sure to tell her that very evening, if possible, what he had found out; but it was too late now; midnight was striking.
“I’ll go to-morrow,” he said to himself.
Whilst lounging leisurely down the boulevards, still brilliantly lighted up, and crowded with people, he strained all his faculties for the purpose of examining his situation coolly and calmly. At first he had imagined he should only have to do with one of those common intriguantes who want to secure themselves a quiet old age, and clumsily spread their nets to catch an old or a young man; and who can always easily be gotten rid of by paying them a more or less considerable sum of money, provided the police does not get hold of them. In such a case he would have had some hope.
But here he saw himself suddenly confronted by one of those formidable adventuresses in high life, who either save appearances altogether, or, at worst, are only compromised far enough to give additional zest and an air of mystery to their relations. How could he hope to compete with such a woman? and with what weapons could he attack her? How should he reach her? and how attack her?
Was it not pure folly to think even of making her give up the magnificent fortune which she seemed already to have in her hands, Heaven knows by what means? She evidently looked upon it as her own already, and enjoyed its charms in anticipation.
“Great God!” said Daniel, “send me some inspiration.”
But no inspiration came; and in vain did he torture his mind; he was unable to think.
When he reached home, he went to bed as usual; but the consciousness of his misfortunes kept him awake. At nine o’clock in the morning, having never closed his eyes, and feeling utterly overcome by sleeplessness and fatigue, he was just about to get up, when some one knocked at his door. He rose hastily, put on his clothes, and went to open the door. It was M. de Brevan, who came to hear all about his new acquaintance of last night, and whose first word was,--
“Well?”
“Alas!” replied Daniel, “I think the wisest plan would be to give it up.”
“Upon my word, you are in great haste to surrender.”
“And what would you do in my place, eh? That woman has beauty enough to drive any one mad; and the count is a lost man.”
And, before Maxime had time to reply, Daniel told him simply and frankly all about his love for Miss Ville-Handry, the hopes he had been encouraged to cherish, and the dangers that threatened his happiness in life.
“For I can no longer deceive myself, Maxime,” he concluded with a tone of utter despair. “I foresee, I know, what is going to happen. Henrietta will obstinately, and at any risk, do every thing in the world to prevent her father’s marriage with Miss Brandon; she will struggle to the bitter end. Ought I, or ought I not, to help her? Certainly. Can we succeed? No! But we shall have a mortal enemy in Miss Brandon; and, on the morning after her wedding, her first thought will be how to avenge herself, and how to separate Henrietta and myself forever.”
Little as Brevan was generally given to show his feelings, he was evidently deeply touched by his friend’s despair.
“In short, my dear fellow, you have reached the point at which we no longer know what to do. All the more reason, then, that you should listen to the calm advice of a friend. You must have yourself presented at Miss Brandon’s house.”
“She has invited me.”
“Well, then, do not hesitate, but go there.”
“What for?”
“Not for much. You will pay some compliments to Miss Sarah; you will be all attention to Mrs. Brian; and you will try to win over the Hon. Thomas Elgin. Finally, and above all, you will be all ears and all eyes.”
“I am sorry to say I do not understand you yet.”
“What? Don’t you see that the position of these daring adventurers, however secure it may appear, may, after all, hang on a single thread? and that nothing is wanting in order to cut that thread but an opportunity? And when you may expect, at any moment, any thing and every thing, what is to be done but to wait and watch?”
Daniel did not seem to be convinced. He added,--
“Miss Sarah will talk to me about her marriage.”
“Certainly she will.”
“What can I say?”
“Nothing,--neither yes nor no,--but smile, or run away; at all events, you gain time.”
He was interrupted by Daniel’s servant, who came in, holding a card in his hand, and said,--
“Sir, there is a gentleman down stairs in a carriage, who wants to know if he would interrupt you if he came up to see you.”
“What is the gentleman’s name?”
“Count Ville-Handry. Here is his card.”
“Be quick!” said Daniel, “run down and ask him, would he please come up.”
M. de Brevan had started up, and was standing, with his hat on, near the door. As the servant left, he said,--
“I am running away.”
“Why?”
“Because the count must not find me here. You would be compelled to introduce me to him; he might remember my name; and, if he were to tell Miss Sarah that I am your friend, all would be lost.”
Thereupon he turned to go; but at the same moment the outer door was opened, and he said,--
“There is the count! I am caught.”
But Daniel opened promptly the door to his bedroom, pushed him in, and shut the door. It was high time; the same moment the count entered.
