Arthur O'Leary Part 19

I was soon seated beside the countess in the luxurious britzka; the count took his place on the box, and away we rattled over the stones through the Porte de Namur, and along the pretty suburbs of Etterbech, where we left the highroad, and entered the Bois de Cambre by that long and beautiful _allee_ which runs on for miles, like some vast aisle in a Gothic cathedral--the branches above bending into an arched roof, and the tall beech-stems standing like the pillars.

The pleasant odour of the forest, the tempered light, the noiseless roll of the carriage, gave a sense of luxury to the drive I can remember vividly to this hour. Not that my enjoyment of these things was my only one; far from it. The pretty countess talked away about everything that came uppermost, in that strain of spirited and lively chit-chat which needs not the sweetest voice and the most fascinating look to make it most captivating. I felt like one in a dream; the whole thing was fairy-land; and whether I looked into the depths of the leafy wood, where some hors.e.m.e.n might now and then be seen to pa.s.s at a gallop, or my eyes fell upon that small and faultless foot that rested on the velvet cushion in the carriage, I could not trust the reality of the scene, and could only mutter to myself, 'What hast thou ever done, Arthur O'Leary, or thy father before thee, to deserve happiness like this?'

Dear and kind reader, it may be your fortune to visit Brussels; and although not exactly under such circ.u.mstances as I have mentioned here, let me advise you, even without a beautiful Polonaise for your companion, to make a trip to Boitsfort, a small village in the wood of Soignies. Of course your nationality will lead you to Waterloo; and equally of course, if you have any tact (which far be it from me not to suppose you gifted with), you'll not dine there, the little miserable cabarets that are called restaurants being wretched beyond description; you may have a gla.s.s of wine--and if so, take champagne, for they cannot adulterate it--but don't venture on a dinner, if you hope to enjoy one again for a week after. Well, then, 'having done your Waterloo,' as the c.o.c.kneys say, seen Sergeant Cotton and the church, La Haye Sainte, Hougomont, and Lord Anglesey's boot--take your road back, not by that eternal and noisy _chaussee_ you have come by, but turn off to the right, as if going to Wavre, and enter the forest by an earth road, where you'll neither meet waggons nor postillions nor even a ''pike.'

Your coachman will say, 'Where to?' Reply, 'Boitsfort'--which, for safety, p.r.o.nounce 'Boshfort'--and lie back and enjoy yourself. About six miles of a delightful drive, all through forest, will bring you to a small village beside a little lake surrounded by hills, not mountains, but still waving and broken in outline, and shaded with wood. The red-tiled roofs, the pointed gables, the green jalousies, and the background of dark foliage will all remind you of one of Berghem's pictures; and if a lazy Fleming or so are seen lounging over the little parapet next the water, they 'll not injure the effect. Pa.s.sing over the little bridge, you arrive in front of a long, low, two-storeyed house, perforated by an arched doorway leading into the court; over the door is an inscription, which at once denotes the object of the establishment, and you read, 'Monsieur Dubos fait noces et festins.' Not that the worthy individual officiates in any capacity resembling the famed Vulcan of the North: as far be it from him to invade the prerogative of others as for any to rival him in his own peculiar walk. No; Monsieur D.'s functions are limited to those delicate devices which are deemed the suitable diet of newly-married couples--those _pet.i.ts plats_ which are, like the orange-flower, only to be employed on great occasions. And as such he is unrivalled; for notwithstanding the simple and unpretending exterior, this little rural tavern can boast the most perfect cook and the best-stored cellar. Here may be found the earliest turkey of the year, with a dowry of truffles; here, the first peas of spring, the newest strawberries and the richest cream, iced champagne and grapy Hermitage, Steinberger and Johannisberg, are all at your orders. You may dine in the long salon, _en cabinet_; in the garden, or in the summer-house over the lake, where the carp is flapping his tail in the clear water, the twin-brother of him at table. The garden beneath sends up its delicious odours from beds of every brilliant hue; the sheep are moving homeward along the distant hills to the tinkle of the faint bell; the plash of an oar disturbs the calm water as the fisherman skims along the lake, and the subdued murmurs of the little village all come floating in the air--pleasant sounds, and full of home thoughts. Well, well! to be sure I am a bachelor, and know nothing of such matters; but it strikes me I should like to be married now and then, and go eat my wedding-dinners at Boitsfort! And now once more let me come back to my narrative--for leaving which I should ask your pardon, were it not that the digression is the best part of the whole, and I should never forgive myself if I had not told you not to stop at Brussels without dining at Boitsfort.

When we reached Boitsfort, a waiter conducted us at once to a little table in the garden where the strawberries and the iced champagne were in waiting. Here and there, at some distance, were parties of the Brussels bourgeoisie enjoying themselves at their coffee, or with ice; while a large salon that occupied one wing of the building was given up to some English travellers, whose loud speech and boisterous merriment bespoke them of that cla.s.s one is always ashamed to meet with out of England.

'Your countrymen are very merry yonder,' said the countess, as a more uproarious burst than ever broke from the party.

'Yes,' said the count, perceiving that I felt uncomfortable at the allusion, 'Englishmen always carry London about with them wherever they go. Meet them in the Caucasus, and you'll find that they'll have some imitation of a Blackwall dinner or a Greenwich party.'

'How comes it,' said I, amazed at the observation, 'that you know these places you mention?'

'Oh, my dear sir, I have been very much about the world in my time, and have always made it my business to see each people in their own peculiar haunts. If at Vienna, I dine not at the "Wilde Man," but at the "Puchs" in the Leopoldstadt. If in Dresden, I spend my evening in the Grun-Garten, beyond the Elbe. The bourgeoisie alone of any nation preserve traits marked enough for a stranger's appreciation; the higher cla.s.ses are pretty much alike everywhere, and the nationality of the peasant takes a narrow range, and offers little to amuse.'

'The count is a quick observer,' remarked madame, with a look of pleasure sparkling in her eyes.

'I flatter myself,' rejoined he, 'I seldom err in my guesses. I knew my friend here tolerably accurately without an introduction.'

There was something so kind in the tone he spoke in that I could have no doubt of his desire to compliment me.

'Independently, too, of speaking most of the languages of Europe, I possess a kind of knack for learning a patois,' continued he. 'At this instant, I'll wager a cigar with you that I 'll join that little knot of sober Belgians yonder, and by the magic of a few words of genuine Brussels French, I'll pa.s.s muster as a Boss.'

The countess laughed heartily at the thought, and I joined in her mirth most readily.

'I take the wager,' cried I--'and hope sincerely to lose it.'

'Done!' said he, springing up and putting on his hat, while he made a short circuit in the garden, and soon afterwards appeared at the table with the Flemings, asking permission, as it seemed, to light a cigar from a lantern attached to the tree under which they sat.

If we were to judge from the merriment of the little group, his success was perfect, and we soon saw him seated amongst them, busily occupied in concocting a bowl of flaming _ponche_, of which it was clear by his manner he had invited the party to partake.

'Now Gustav is in his delight,' said the countess, in a tone of almost pique; 'he is a strange creature, and never satisfied if not doing something other people never think of. In half an hour he'll be back here, with the whole history of Mynheer van Houdendrochen and his wife and their fourteen "mannikins"; all their little absurdities and prejudices he 'll catch up, and for a week to come we shall hear nothing but Flemish French, and the habitudes of the Montagne de la Cour.'

For a few seconds I was vastly uncomfortable; a thought glanced across me, what if it were for some absurd feature in me, in my manner or my conversation, that he had deigned to make my acquaintance. Then came the recollection of his generous proposal, and I saw at once that I was putting a somewhat high price on my originality, if I valued it at five thousand francs.

'What ails you?' said the countess, in a low, soft voice, as she lifted her eyes and let them fall upon me with a most bewitching expression of interest. 'I fear you are ill, or in low spirits.' I endeavoured to rally and reply, when she went on--

'We must see you oftener. Gustav is so pleasant and so gay, he will be of great use to you. When he really takes a liking, he is delightful; and he has in your case, I a.s.sure you.'

I knew not what to say, nor how to look my grat.i.tude for such a speech, and could only accomplish some few and broken words of thanks.

'Besides, you are about to be a traveller,' continued she; 'and who can give you such valuable information of every country and people as the count? Do you intend to make a long absence from England?'

'Yes, at least some years. I wish to visit the East.' 'You 'll go into Poland?' said she quickly, without noticing my reply.

'Yes, I trust so; Hungary and Poland have both great interest for me.'

'You know that we are Poles, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'We are both from beyond Varsovie. Gustav was there ten years ago. I have never seen my native country since I was a child.

At the last words her voice dropped to a whisper, and she leaned her head upon her hand, and seemed lost in thought. I did not dare to break in upon the current of recollections I saw were crowding upon her, and was silent. She looked up at length, and by the faint light of the moon, just risen, I saw that her eyes were tearful and her cheeks still wet.

'What,' said I to myself, 'and has sorrow come even here--here, where I imagined if ever the sunny path of life existed, it was to be found?'

'Would you like to hear a sad story?' said she, smiling faintly, with a look of indefinable sweetness.

'If it were yours, it would make my heart ache,' said I, carried away by my feelings at the instant.

'I 'll tell it to you one of these days, then: not now! not now, though!--I could not here; and there comes Gustav. How he laughs!'

And true enough, the merry sounds of his voice were heard through the garden as he approached; and strangely, too, they seemed to grate and jar upon my ear, with a very different impression from what before they brought to me.

Our way back to Brussels led again through the forest, which now was wrapped in the shade, save where the moon came peeping down through the leafy branches, and fell in bright patches on the road beneath. The countess spoke a little at first, but gradually relapsed into perfect silence. The stillness and calm about seemed only the more striking from the hollow tramp of the horses, as they moved along the even turf; the air was mild and sweet, and loaded with that peculiar fragrance which a wood exhales after nightfall; and all the influences of the time and place were of that soothing, lulling kind that wraps the mind in a state of dreamy reverie. But one thought dwelt within me: it was of her who sat beside me, her head cast down, and her arms folded. She was unhappy; some secret sorrow was preying upon that fair bosom, some eating care corroding her very heart. A vague, shadowy suspicion shot through me that her husband might have treated her cruelly and ill. But why suspect this? Was not everything I witnessed the very reverse of such a fact?

What could surpa.s.s the mutual kindliness and good feeling that I saw between them! And yet their dispositions were not at all alike: she seemed to hint as much. The very waywardness of his temperament; the incessant demand of his spirit for change, excitement, and occupation--how could it harmonise with her gentle and more constant nature? From such thoughts I was awakened by her saying, in a low faint voice--

'You must forget what I said to-night. There are moments when some strong impulse will force the heart to declare the long-buried thoughts of years. Perhaps some secret instinct tells us that we are near to those who can sympathise and feel for us; perhaps these are the overflowings of grief, without which the heart would grow full to bursting. Whatever they be, they seem to calm and soothe us, though afterwards we may sorrow for having indulged in them. You will forget it all, won't you?'

'I will do my best,' said I timidly, 'to do all you wish; but I cannot promise you what may be out of my power. The few words you spoke have never left my mind since; nor can I say when I shall cease to remember them.'

'What do you think, Duischka?' said the count, as he flung away the fragment of his cigar, and turned round on the box--' what do you think of an invitation to dinner I have accepted for Tuesday next?'

'Where, pray?' said she, with an effort to seem interested.

'I am to dine with my worthy friend Van Houdicamp, Rue de Lacken, No.

28. A very high mark, let me tell you; his father was burgomaster at Alost, and he himself has a great sugar bakery, or salt _raffinerie_, or something equivalent, at Scharbeck.'

'How can you find any pleasure in such society, Gustav?'

'Pleasure you call it!--delight is the word. I shall hear all the gossip of the Ba.s.se Ville--quite as amusing, I 'm certain, as of the Place and the Boulevards. Besides, there are to be some half-dozen _echevins_, with wives and daughters, and we shall have a round game for the most patriarchal stakes. I have also obtained permission to bring a friend; so you see, Monsieur O'Leary----'

'I 'm certain,' interposed madame, 'he has much better taste than to avail himself of your offer.'

'I 'll bet my life on it he 'll not refuse.'

'I say he will,' said the lady.

'I 'll wager that pearl ring at Mertan's that if you leave him to himself he says "Yes."'

'Agreed,' said madame; 'I accept the bet. We Poles are as great gamblers as yourselves, you see,' added she, turning to me. 'Now, monsieur, decide the question. Will you dine with Van Hottentot on Tuesday next--or with me?'

The last three words were spoken in so low a tone as made me actually suspect that my imagination alone had conceived them.

'Well,' cried the count, 'what say you?'