A Hungarian Nabob Part 31

Presently he went out again to ask Mrs. Meyer whether she had not told the girl that he meant to make her his wife.

Oh yes; and the girl seemed greatly delighted at the idea.

And again he cheered up a bit, and returned to the a.s.sembly room, and did his best to amuse Monsieur Griffard.

They were handing round the tea, and the Countess X---- had just begun to sing the "Casta Diva," when Abellino's lackey sidled up to his master and whispered in his ear--

"I have just seen Miss f.a.n.n.y Meyer descending from a carriage."

Abellino pressed into the servant's hand as many ducats as he happened to have about him, pulled himself together, and got up and looked at himself in a mirror. He was elegant and genteel, at any rate, that everybody would be bound to allow. His whole get-up was unexceptionable--his chin was clean-shaven, his moustache and whiskers were downright picturesque, his cravat was ravishing, and his vest magnificent.

And now the flunkey whose duty it was to announce the arrivals, entered the room (Abellino caught sight of him in the mirror), and announced in his ceremonious _salon_ voice, "Madame f.a.n.n.y de Karpathy, _nee_ de Meyer!"

"The deuce!" thought Abellino; "the wench is making pretty free with my name. Can she be taking me seriously? Well, she may do so if she likes.

It doesn't matter much."

"Ah, a wedding!" exclaimed Mons. Griffard. "Then you are marrying, eh?"

"Oh, it is only a left-handed marriage," said Abellino, jocosely.

Some of the guests, full of curiosity, pressed forward to meet the new arrivals. The host, I mean Mr. Kecskerey, went towards the entrance; the lackey threw open the folding-doors, and a young lady entered, accompanied by a gentleman. For a moment the whole company was dumb with amazement. Was it the sight of the young lady that amazed them so? She was beautiful, certainly. A simple but costly lace mantle floated, wave-like, round her superb figure; the rich tresses of her hair were covered by a slight veil of Brussels lace, which allowed her long curls _a l'Anglaise_ to sweep down on both sides over her marble-smooth shoulders and ravishingly beautiful bosom. And then that face, that complexion like a faintly blushing rose, that look worthy of a G.o.ddess, those burning black eyes so full of vivacity and pa.s.sion, and contrasting so strangely with the childlike lips suggestive of sleeping innocence, but harmonizing on the other hand with the dimples on her rosy chin and cheeks, set there surely for the undoing of any human soul who saw a smile upon them!

And there was a smile upon them now, as Mr. Kecskerey came forward without exactly knowing what to say.

f.a.n.n.y greeted him.

"I was very pleased to accept your honoured invitation," said she, "and I have brought my family with me also, as you see. I mean, of course, my husband, Mr. John Karpathy;" and she indicated the gentleman by her side.

Mr. Kecskerey could only say that his delight was infinite, but all the time his eyes were anxiously searching for Abellino in the most evident embarra.s.sment.

As for Abellino, he remained standing before the mirror and looking just like Lot's wife at the moment when she was turned into a pillar of salt.

But meantime John Karpathy, the good-humoured, merry, radiant Squire John, pressed the hand of the master of the house as if he were an old acquaintance, at the same time keeping his wife's little hand safely tucked under his arm.

"Congratulate me, my worthy friend," said he. "I have won to-day a treasure, a heavenly treasure. I am blessed indeed. I have no need of any other paradise, for this world is now a paradise to me."

And laughing aloud, and with a beaming countenance, he mingled with the company, presenting his wife to the most distinguished persons present, who overwhelmed him with congratulations.

And Abellino was obliged to look on all the time!

To think that this girl, whom he had pursued so ostentatiously with his love, should have become his uncle's wife, and consequently, henceforth and for evermore, inaccessible to himself!

Why, if she had been carried up to the heights of heaven or down to the depths of h.e.l.l; if she had been fenced about in a rock-girt fortress, or if wrathful archangels had guarded her with flaming swords, she would not have been so completely shielded from him as by that talismanic name--"Madame John Karpathy!"

It was impossible for him to have any relations whatever with Madame John Karpathy!

Every eye that had sated itself with gazing on the beautiful young bride, strayed back to him, and every look fixed upon him was full of scorn and ridicule. The dandy, who was celebrating his uncle's wedding!

The outwitted suitor, whose adored one gave her hand--not to him, but to his uncle!

It almost did Abellino good to see some one in the company who seemed to be as hard hit as himself--namely, Monsieur Griffard, and true, even now, to his malicious nature, he turned towards the banker and inquired mockingly--

"Qu'en dites vous, M. Griffard?"

"C'est bien fatal!"

"Mon cher Abellino!" said Fennimore, who chanced to be standing by him, and never had his thin drawling voice seemed so offensive, "it looks very much as if you owed me a thousand ducats. Ha, ha, ha!"

Abellino turned furiously upon him, but at that instant his eyes met those of Squire John, who had just then reached the place where he was standing, with his wife under his arm, and introduced them to each other with the most benevolent smile in the world.

"My dear wife, this is my dear little brother Bela Karpathy. My dear little brother, I recommend my dear wife to your kinsmanlike regard!"

Ah, this was the moment which he had so joyfully antic.i.p.ated; this was the exquisite vengeance, the thought of which had grown up in the heart of the persecuted girl, and made the eyes of the gentle creature sparkle so brightly.

The hunter had fallen into the snare--the snare that he himself had laid. He had been hoodwinked, rejected, worsted utterly.

Abellino bowed stiffly, biting his lips hard all the time; he was as white as the wall.

Then Squire John pa.s.sed on and had himself specially introduced to Monsieur Griffard, who expressed his intense gratification at finding the Nabob in the possession of such excellent health.

But Abellino, the moment they had pa.s.sed by, stuck his thumbs into the corners of his vest, and humming a tune, and holding his head high, as if he were in the best of humours, strolled from one end of the large a.s.sembly room to the other, feigning ignorance of the fact that the whispering and t.i.ttering that resounded on every side was so much scorn and ridicule directed against him.

He hastened to the card-room.

As he pa.s.sed through the door he heard how everybody there was laughing and sn.i.g.g.e.ring. Fennimore's shrill voice resounded through the din. The moment they saw him the peals of laughter broke off suddenly, all signs of hilarity disappeared, everybody tried to put on a solemn and expectant look. Could anything in the world be more aggravating?

Abellino dragged a chair to the table and sat down among them. Why did they not go on laughing; why did they not continue their conversation?

Why did Fennimore make such efforts to put on a solemn face, when his mouth was regularly twitching?

The cards were dealt.

It was now Abellino's turn to keep the bank.

He began to lose.

Fennimore was sitting at the other end of the table, and he won continually; he doubled, trebled, quadrupled his stakes; he doubled them again, and still he won. Abellino began to lose his _sang-froid_ and get flurried. He did not keep a proper watch on the stakes, and often swept in the stakes of the winners and paid the losers. His mind was elsewhere.

And now Fennimore again won four times as much as he had staked.

He could not restrain a laugh of triumph.

"Ha! ha! Monsieur de Karpathy, the proverb ill applies to you also: you are unlucky at cards, and unlucky in love as well. Poor Abellino! Heaven help you! You owe me a thousand ducats."

"I?" asked Abellino, irritably.

"Yes, you. Did you not bet me that you would seduce f.a.n.n.y? And how splendidly it has turned out! Abellino flies from the embraces of his uncle's wife like a new Joseph fleeing from a new Madame Potiphar! You had much better take care lest the lady takes a fancy to some other nice young man. Ah, ah, ah! Abellino as the protector of virtue! Abellino as a garde des dames! Why, it's sublime! You might make a capital farce out of it."

Every word was as venom to his ears, every word cut him to the quick, cut him to the very marrow. Abellino turned pale and shivered with rage.

What Fennimore said was true. He must needs tremble now at the thought that this woman would find some one to love. d.a.m.nation! d.a.m.nation!