A Romance of Two Worlds Part 4

Amy looked at me with a knowing and half-serious expression.

"Say now--take care, take care! Aren't you and Cellini getting to be rather particular friends--something a little beyond the Platonic, eh?"

This notion struck me as so absurd that I laughed heartily. Then, without pausing for one instant to think what I was saying, I answered with amazing readiness and frankness, considering that I really knew nothing about it:

"Why, my dear, Raffaello Cellini is betrothed, and he is a most devoted lover."

A moment after I had uttered this a.s.sertion I was surprised at myself.

What authority had I for saying that Cellini was betrothed? What did I know about it? Confused, I endeavoured to find some means of retracting this unfounded and rash remark, but no words of explanation would come to my lips that had been so ready and primed to deliver what might be, for all I knew, a falsehood. Amy did not perceive my embarra.s.sment. She was pleased and interested at the idea of Cellini's being in love.

"Really!" she exclaimed, "it makes him a more romantic character than ever! Fancy his telling you that he was betrothed! How delightful! I must ask him all about his chosen fair one. But I'm positively thankful it isn't you, for I'm sure he's just a little bit off his head. Even this book he has lent you looks like a wizard's property;" and she fluttered the leaves of the "Dead Musician's" volume, turning them rapidly over in search of something attractive. Suddenly she paused and cried out: "Why, this is right-down awful! He must have been a regular madman! Just listen!" and she read aloud:

"'How mighty are the Kingdoms of the Air! How vast they are--how densely populated--how glorious are their destinies--how all-powerful and wise are their inhabitants! They possess everlasting health and beauty--their movements are music--their glances are light--they cannot err in their laws or judgments, for their existence is love. Thrones, princ.i.p.alities, and powers are among them, yet all are equal. Each one has a different duty to perform, yet all their labours are lofty. But what a fate is ours on this low earth! For, from the cradle to the grave, we are watched by these spiritual spectators--watched with unflinching interest, unhesitating regard. O Angelic Spirits, what is there in the poor and shabby spectacle of human life to attract your mighty Intelligences? Sorrow, sin, pride, shame, ambition, failure, obstinacy, ignorance, selfishness, forgetfulness--enough to make ye veil your radiant faces in unpierceable clouds to hide forever the sight of so much crime and misery. Yet if there be the faintest, feeblest effort in our souls to answer to the call of your voices, to rise above the earth by force of the same will that pervades your destinies, how the sound of great rejoicing permeates those wide continents ye inhabit, like a wave of thunderous music; and ye are glad, Blessed Spirits!--glad with a gladness beyond that of your own lives, to feel and to know that some vestige, however fragile, is spared from the general wreck of selfish and unbelieving Humanity.

Truly we work under the shadow of a "cloud of Witnesses." Disperse, disperse, O dense yet brilliant mult.i.tudes! turn away from me your burning, truthful, immutable eyes, filled with that look of divine, perpetual regret and pity! Lo, how unworthy am I to behold your glory!

and yet I must see and know and love you all, while the mad blind world rushes on to its own destruction, and none can avert its doom.'"

Here Amy threw down the book with a sort of contempt, and said to me:

"If you are going to muddle your mind with the ravings of a lunatic, you are not what I took you for. Why, it's regular spiritualism!

Kingdoms of the air indeed! And his cloud of witnesses! Rubbish!"

"He quotes the CLOUD OF WITNESSES from St. Paul," I remarked.

"More shame for him!" replied my friend, with the usual inconsistent indignation that good Protestants invariably display when their pet corn, the Bible, is accidentally trodden on. "It has been very well said that the devil can quote Scripture, and this musician (a good job he IS dead, I'm sure) is perfectly blasphemous to quote the Testament in support of his ridiculous ideas! St. Paul did not mean by 'a cloud of witnesses,' a lot of 'air mult.i.tudes' and 'burning, immutable eyes,'

and all that nonsense."

"Well, what DID he mean?" I gently persisted.

"Oh, he meant--why, you know very well what he meant," said Amy, in a tone of reproachful solemnity. "And I wonder at your asking me such a question! Surely you know your Bible, and you must be aware that St.

Paul could never have approved of spiritualism."

"'And there are bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial, but one is the glory of the celestial?" I quoted with, a slight smile.

Mrs. Everard looked shocked and almost angry.

"My dear, I am ashamed of you! You are a believer in spirits, I do declare! Why, I thought Maskelyne and Cook had cured everybody of such notions; and now here's this horrid book going to make you more nervous than ever. I shall have you getting up one night and shrieking about burning, immutable eyes looking at you."

I laughed merrily as I rose to pick up the discarded volume from the floor.

"Don't be afraid," I said; "I'll give back the book to Signor Cellini to-morrow, and I will tell him that you do not like the idea of my reading it, and that I am going to study the Bible instead. Come now, dear, don't look cross!" and I embraced her warmly, for I liked her far too well to wish to offend her. "Let us concentrate our attention on our finery for to-night, when a 'dense and brilliant mult.i.tude,' not of air, but of the 'earth earthy,' will pa.s.s us under critical survey. I a.s.sure you I mean to make the best of my improved looks, as I don't believe they will last. I dare say I shall be the 'sick nun' that you termed me again to-morrow."

"I hope not, dearest," said my friend kindly, returning my caress and forgetting her momentary ill-humour. "A jolly dance will do you good if you are careful to avoid over-exertion. But you are quite right, we must really fix our things ready for the evening, else we shall be all in a flurry at the last moment, and nothing riles the Colonel so much as to see women in a fuss. I shall wear my lace dress; but it wants seeing to. Will you help me?"

Readily a.s.senting, we were soon deep in the arrangement of the numberless little mysteries that make up a woman's toilette; and nothing but the most frivolous conversation ensued. But as I a.s.sisted in the sorting of laces, jewels, and other dainty appendages of evening costume, I was deep in earnest meditation. Reviewing in my own mind the various sensations I had experienced since I had tasted that Eastern wine in Cellini's studio, I came to the conclusion that he must have tried an experiment on me with some foreign drug, of which he alone knew the properties. Why he should do this I could not determine; but that he had done it I was certain. Besides this, I felt sure that he personally exerted some influence upon me--a soothing and calming influence I was forced to admit--still, it could hardly be allowed to continue. To be under the control, however slight, of one who was almost a stranger to me, was, at the least, unnatural and unpleasant. I was bound to ask him a few plain questions. And, supposing Mrs. Everard were to speak to him about his being betrothed, and he were to deny it, and afterwards were to turn round upon me and ask what authority I had for making such a statement, what should I say? Convict myself of falsehood? However, it was no use to puzzle over the solution of this difficulty till it positively presented itself. At any rate, I determined I would ask him frankly, face to face, for some explanation of the strange emotions I had felt ever since meeting him; and thus resolved, I waited patiently for the evening.

CHAPTER IV.

A DANCE AND A PROMISE.

Our little French friend, Madame Didier, was not a woman to do things by halves. She was one of those rare exceptions among Parisian ladies--she was a perfectly happy wife; nay, more, she was in love with her own husband, a fact which, considering the present state of society both in France and England, rendered her almost contemptible in the eyes of all advanced thinkers. She was plump and jolly in appearance; round-eyed and brisk as a lively robin. Her husband, a large, mild-faced placid man--"mon pet.i.t mari," as she called him--permitted her to have her own way in everything, and considered all she did as perfectly well done. Therefore, when she had proposed this informal dance at the Hotel de L----, he made no objection, but entered into her plans with spirit; and, what was far more important, opened his purse readily to her demands for the necessary expenses. So nothing was stinted; the beautiful ballroom attached to the hotel was thrown open, and lavishly decorated with flowers, fountains, and twinkling lights; an awning extended from its windows right down the avenue of dark ilex-trees, which were ornamented with Chinese lanterns; an elegant supper was laid out in the large dining-room, and the whole establishment was en fete. The delicious strains of a Viennese band floated to our ears as Colonel Everard, his wife, and myself descended the staircase on our way to the scene of revelry; and suggestions of fairyland were presented to us in the graceful girlish forms, clad in light, diaphanous attire, that flitted here and there, or occasionally pa.s.sed us. Colonel Everard marched proudly along with the military bearing that always distinguished him, now and then glancing admiringly at his wife, who, indeed, looked her very best. Her dress was of the finest Brussels lace, looped over a skirt of the palest sh.e.l.l-pink satin; deep crimson velvet roses cl.u.s.tered on her breast, and nestled in her rich hair; a necklace of magnificent rubies clasped her neck, and the same jewels glittered on her round white arms. Her eyes shone with pleasurable excitement, and the prettiest colour imaginable tinted her delicate cheeks.

"When an American woman is lovely, she is very lovely," I said. "You will be the belle of the room to-night, Amy!"

"Nonsense!" she replied, well pleased, though, at my remark. "You must remember I have a rival in yourself."

I shrugged my shoulders incredulously.

"It is not like you to be sarcastic," I said. "You know very well I have the air of a resuscitated corpse."

The Colonel wheeled round suddenly, and brought us all up to a standstill before a great mirror.

"If YOU are like a resuscitated corpse, I'll throw a hundred dollars into the next mud-pond," he observed. "Look at yourself."

I looked, at first indifferently, and then with searching scrutiny. I saw a small, slender girl, clad in white, with a ma.s.s of gold hair twisted loosely up from her neck, and fastened with a single star of diamonds. A superb garniture of natural lilies of the valley was fastened on this girl's shoulder; and, falling loosely across her breast, lost itself in the trailing folds of her gown. She held a palm-leaf fan entirely covered with lilies of the valley, and a girdle of the same flowers encircled her waist. Her face was serious, but contented; her eyes were bright, but with an intense and thoughtful l.u.s.tre; and her cheeks were softly coloured, as though a west wind had blown freshly against them. There was nothing either attractive or repulsive about her that I could see; and yet--I turned away from the mirror hastily with a faint smile.

"The lilies form the best part of my toilette," I said.

"That they do," a.s.serted Amy, with emphasis. "They are the finest specimens I ever saw. It was real elegant of Mr. Cellini to send them all fixed up ready like that, fan and all. You must be a favourite of his!"

"Come, let us proceed," I answered, with some abruptness. "We are losing time."

In a few seconds more we entered the ballroom, and were met at once by Madame Didier, who, resplendent in black lace and diamonds, gave us hearty greeting. She stared at me with unaffected amazement.

"Mon dieu!" she exclaimed--her conversation with us was always a mixture of French and broken English--"I should not 'ave know zis young lady again! She 'ave si bonne mine. You veel dance, sans doute?"

We readily a.s.sented, and the usual a.s.sortment of dancing-men of all ages and sizes was brought forward for our inspection; while the Colonel, being introduced to a beaming English girl of some seventeen summers, whirled her at once into the merry maze of dancers, who were spinning easily round to the lively melody of one of Strauss's most fascinating waltzes. Presently I also found myself circling the room with an amiable young German, who ambled round with a certain amount of cleverness, considering that he was evidently ignorant of the actual waltz step; and I caught a glimpse now and then of Amy's rubies as they flashed past me in the dance--she was footing it merrily with a handsome Austrian Hussar. The room was pleasantly full--not too crowded for the movements of the dancers; and the whole scene was exceedingly pretty and animated. I had no lack of partners, and I was surprised to find myself so keenly alive to enjoyment, and so completely free from my usual preoccupied condition of nervous misery I looked everywhere for Raffaello Cellini, but he was not to be seen. The lilies that I wore, which he had sent me, seemed quite unaffected by the heat and glare of the gaslight--not a leaf drooped, not a petal withered; and their remarkable whiteness and fragrance elicited many admiring remarks from those with whom I conversed. It was growing very late; there were only two more waltzes before the final cotillon. I was standing near the large open window of the ballroom, conversing with one of my recent partners, when a sudden inexplicable thrill shot through me from head to foot. Instinctively I turned, and saw Cellini approaching. He looked remarkably handsome, though his face was pale and somewhat wearied in expression. He was laughing and conversing gaily with two ladies, one of whom was Mrs. Everard; and as he came towards me he bowed courteously, saying:

"I am too much honoured by the kindness mademoiselle has shown in not discarding my poor flowers."

"They are lovely," I replied simply; "and I am very much obliged to you, signor, for sending them to me."

"And how fresh they keep!" said Amy, burying her little nose in the fragrance of my fan; "yet they have been in the heat of the room all the evening."

"They cannot perish while mademoiselle wears them," said Cellini gallantly. "Her breath is their life."

"Bravo!" cried Amy, clapping her hands. "That is very prettily said, isn't it?"

I was silent. I never could endure compliments. They are seldom sincere, and it gives me no pleasure to be told lies, however prettily they may be worded. Signor Cellini appeared to divine my thoughts, for he said in a lower tone:

"Pardon me, mademoiselle; I see my observation displeased you; but there is more truth in it than you perhaps know."

"Oh, say!" interrupted Mrs. Everard at this juncture; "I am SO interested, signor, to hear you are engaged! I suppose she is a dream of beauty?"

The hot colour rushed to my cheeks, and I bit my lips in confusion and inquietude. What WOULD he answer? My anxiety was not of long duration.