Erlach Court Part 22

"Madame la Baronne wishes to know if the Frau Baroness is receiving?"

the man asks, vanishing when Stella a.s.sents.

"He probably takes me for a waiting-maid," Stella thinks, childishly, not without some petty annoyance that she was forced to open the door herself for the servant, and she hurries into the salon, to put away a piece of mending which is by no means ornamental. Scarcely has she done so when a light foot-fall comes tripping up the stairs. There is another ring, and again Stella opens the door. A lady enters, slender, very pale, with delicately-cut features, and large, black, rather restless eyes, which she slightly closes as she looks at Stella, and then pleasantly holds out her hand:

"Mademoiselle Meineck, _n'est-ce pas?_"

Not for one moment is she in doubt whether this tall girl in a plain stuff dress be a soubrette or not.

"My brother-in-law Rohritz wrote me some time ago telling me to call upon your mother and yourself and to ask if I could be of any service to you. I have promised myself the pleasure of doing so every day since; my very critical brother's letter inspired me with eager curiosity; but one never has time for anything in Paris,--nothing pleasant, that is. Well, here I am at last. Is your mother at home?"

"My mother has gone out, but will shortly return; she would greatly regret missing you, madame. If you could be content with my society for a while----" Stella rejoins.

"I should be delighted to have a little talk with you," the lady a.s.sures her; "but do you suppose I have time to stay? What an idea in Paris! I had to fairly steal a quarter of an hour of time already appropriated to come to see you. We must postpone our talk. I trust I shall see a great deal of you; I am always at leisure in the evening,--that is, when I do not have to go to bed from sheer fatigue!

And how have you pa.s.sed the time since you came to Paris?"

Madame de Rohritz has installed herself in an arm-chair by the fireplace, has put up her veil and thrown back her furs from her shoulders.

A delicate fragrance exhales from her robes; all Parisian women use perfumes, but how refined, how exquisite, is this fragrance compared with the overpowering odour of _Peau, d'Espagne_ which surrounds the Princess Oblonsky!

Therese Rohritz does not possess her brother's beauty, but everything about her is graceful and attractive,--her veiled glance,--a glance which can be half impertinent sometimes, but which rests upon Stella with evident liking,--her beaming and yet slightly weary smile,--yes, even her hurried articulation and her high-pitched but soft and melodious voice.

"How have you pa.s.sed the time since you came to Paris?" she asks again.

"We live very quietly," Stella stammers. "Mamma is studying that she may finish her book, and of course has no time to go out with me."

"Yes, yes, I know; my brother-in-law told me," Madame de Rohritz replies. "And you----"

"I? I take singing-lessons four times a week."

"My brother-in-law wrote me that you intend to go upon the stage."

Madame de Rohritz laughs. "If I were a Frenchwoman I should be horrified at the idea, but I am half an Austrian. I know those whims: a cousin of mine, a Russian, Natalie Lipinski----"

"Natalie Lipinski! Ah!" Stella exclaims; "my fellow-student. We take lessons together twice a week in Signor della Seggiola's cla.s.s."

"Indeed! Well, she is thinking of going upon the stage,--and with a fortune of ten million roubles. In Austria and Russia such ideas will take possession of the brains of the best-born and best-bred girls; _cela ne tire pas a consequence!_ I never oppose Natalie, but I mean to have her married before she knows what she is about. And what shall I do with you, my fair one with the golden locks? Do you know I like you exceedingly? _Le coup de foudre en plein_,--love at first sight."

The clock on the chimney-piece--a clock apparently dating from the days when 'L'Africaine' was the rage, for the face is adorned with a manchineel-tree in miniature and a barbaric maiden in a head-dress of feathers dying beneath it--strikes three.

The lady starts up, takes out her watch, and compares it with the clock.

"Positively three o'clock, and my poor little boy is waiting for me in the carriage! I was to take him to his solfeggio cla.s.s at three. Adieu, adieu; my compliments to your mother, and _au revoir, n'est-ce pas?_"

She turns once again in the door-way, and, taking both Stella's hands, says, "You will come to dine with us once this week with your mother quite _en famille_ the first time, that we may learn to know one another. I will excuse a formal call: you can pay that later: it is silly to lose time with formalities when one is _simpatica_. Adieu, adieu. What beautiful eyes you have! _Je me sauve!_"

The lively young madame kisses Stella's forehead, and then goes--or rather flies--away.

Stella's heart beats fast and loud.

"After all, he sent her: he has not quite forgotten me."

CHAPTER XXI.

AN AUSTRIAN HOST.

"Hm! indeed! Now I can no longer be shabby at my ease." These were the words with which the Baroness on her return home greeted Stella's joyous announcement of Madame de Rohritz's visit. "I took such pleasure in living in a place where n.o.body knew me."

However problematical in some respects the creative power of the Baroness may be, she is certainly thoroughly saturated with what the English call 'the sublime egotism of genius.'

When on the morning after her visit a note redolent of violets arrives from Madame de Rohritz, inviting in the kindest manner the two ladies to dinner at half-past seven the next evening but one, the Baroness makes a wry face, and remarks that really Madame de Rohritz might have waited until her call had been returned,--that such a degree of eagerness on the part of a woman of the world betokens a degree of exaggeration,--but, despite her grumbling, permits herself to accede to the entreaty in her daughter's eyes, and to accept the invitation.

"Upon condition that you attend to my dress," she says; to which Stella of course makes no objection.

The evening wardrobe of the Baroness consists of a black velvet gown which is now precisely seventeen years old, and which underwent renovation at the time of her eldest daughter's marriage. The number of Stella's evening dresses is limited to two very charming gowns which the colonel had made for her in Venice, regardless of expense, by the best dress-maker there, but which are at present slightly old-fashioned.

But, neglectful as the Baroness is about her personal appearance, she has an air of great distinction when she makes up her mind to be presentable, and covers her short gray hair, usually flying loose about her ears, with a black lace cap; while Stella is always charming. She would be lovely in the brown robe of a monk; in her pale-blue cachemire, with a bunch of yellow roses on her left shoulder, directly below her ear, she is bewitching. Her heart throbs not a little as she drives with her mother in a draughty, rattling fiacre across Paris to the Avenue Villiers.

She is not at all tired of life to-day, but, entirely forgetting how quickly her air-built castles fall to ruin, she is eagerly engaged again in similar architecture.

Madame de Rohritz occupies a rather small hotel with a court-yard and garden. The entire household conveys the impression of distinguished comfort without ostentation. In the vestibule--a gem of a vestibule, with two ancient j.a.panese monsters on either side of the door of entrance, with Flanders tapestries embroidered in gold on the walls, and Oriental rugs under-foot--a servant relieves the ladies of their wraps.

Stella immediately perceives by the way in which her mother arranges her hair before the mirror that, whether it be the monsters at the door, or the Arazzi on the wall, something has had a beneficial effect upon her mood,--that to-night, as is sometimes the case, her ambition is roused to prove that a learned woman under certain circ.u.mstances can be more amiable and amusing than any woman with nothing in her head save 'dress and the men.'

In the salon, whither they are conducted by the maitre-d'hotel, a familiar spirit who is half a head shorter but half a head more dignified than the footman, they find only the master of the house. Not introduced, and quite unacquainted, he nevertheless advances with both hands extended, saying,--

"It rejoices me exceedingly to welcome two of my compatriots!"

"It rejoices us also," the Baroness amiably a.s.sures him.

Baron Rohritz scans her with discreetly-veiled curiosity. "Why did my brother write that I should find the Baroness rather extraordinary at first? She is a charming, distinguished old lady." Aloud he says, "My wife made promises loud and earnest to be here in time to present me to the ladies; but it seems she was mistaken."

"Perhaps we were too punctual," the Baroness replies, smiling.

"Not at all," the Baron declares; "but my poor wife is proverbially unpunctual. No one has ever been able to convince her that there are but sixty minutes in an hour, and consequently she always tries to do in an afternoon that for which an entire week would hardly suffice.

Pray warm yourselves meanwhile, ladies: here, these are the most comfortable places,--not too near the blaze. I have had an Austrian fire made for you, and have actually nearly succeeded in warming the entire salon. We Austrians require a higher degree of heat than these crazy Frenchmen; they always maintain they are never cold; they are quite satisfied if they can see a little picturesque blaze in the chimney, and they sit down close to it and thrust their hands and feet and heads into it, thereby giving themselves chilblains, neuralgia, rheumatism, and heaven knows what else; but they are never cold."

Although the fire is large enough, Baron Rohritz throws on another log, so eager is he to bear his testimony to the affectation and self-conceit of the Parisians.

"How wonderfully cosey and comfortable you have contrived to make your home here! As I entered I seemed to be breathing the air of Austria.

Since we came to Paris I have not felt so comfortable as at present,"

says the Baroness. If Baron Rohritz knew that since her arrival in Paris her time has been spent either on the top of an omnibus or in rather comfortless furnished lodgings, the worth of this compliment might be less: in happy ignorance, however, he feels extremely flattered, and, with a bow, rejoins,--

"I am very glad our nest pleases you. The chief credit for its arrangement belongs to my wife. You cannot imagine how she runs herself out of breath to pick up pretty things. But it is like Austria here, is it not?"

"Entirely," the Baroness a.s.sures him.