Our Own Set Part 2

But though his subalterns were soon his devoted allies, society at large was still disposed to offer him a cold shoulder. His predecessor in office had never pretended to do anything noteworthy as a diplomatist, but he had been an admirable waltzer, and--which was even more important--he had not disdained that social diversion; consequently he had been a favorite with the ladies of Rome who loudly bewailed his departure and were not cordial to his successor. Sterzl took no pains to fill his place; he had no trace of that obsequious politeness and superficial amiability which make a man popular in general society. His blunt conscientiousness and quite pedantic frankness of speech were displeasing on first acquaintance. In a drawing-room he commonly stood silently observant, or, if he spoke, he said exactly what he thought and expected the same sincerity from others. He could never be brought to understand that the flattery and subterfuge usual in company were merely a degenerate form of love for your neighbor; that the uncompromising truthfulness that he required must result in universal warfare; that the limit-line between sincerity and rudeness, between deference and hypocrisy, have never been rigidly defined; that the naked truth is as much out of place in a drawing-room as a man in his shirt-sleeves; and that, considering the defects and deformities of our souls, we cannot be too thankful that custom prohibits their being displayed without a decent amount of clothing.

Merciful Heaven! what should we see if they were laid bare?

No, we cannot live without lying. A man who is used to society demands that it should tell lies, it is his right, and a courtesy to which he has every claim. When a man finds that society no longer thinks him worth lying to his part is played out and he had better vanish from the scene. In short, Sterzl had no sort of success with women; they dubbed him by the nickname of '_le Paysan du Danube_.' Men respected him; they only regretted that he had so many extravagant notions, particularly a morbid touchiness as to matters of honor; however, that is a fault which men do not seriously disapprove of. To Sterzl himself it was a matter of entire indifference what was said of him by people who were not his personal friends. For a friend he would go through fire and water, but he would often neglect even to bow to an acquaintance in the street as he walked on, straight to his destination, his head full of grand schemes. He was fully determined to make his mark: to do--perhaps to become--something great ... but....

CHAPTER III.

Princess Vulpini, who had not escaped the fashionable complaint--the _Morbus Schliemaniensis_, had found a treasure no further off than in an old-clothes shop in the Via Aracoeli, where she had bought two wonderful shields from designs, she was a.s.sured, of Benvenuto Cellini's and a fragment of tapestry said to have been designed by Raphael, and she had invited a few intimate friends--Truyn, Sempaly, von Klinger, and Count Siegburg, an Austrian attache, to give their opinion as to the genuineness of her find. She was Truyn's sister and a few years younger than he; she had met Prince Vulpini at Vichy when spending a season there with her invalid father and soon afterwards had married him, and now for twelve years she had lived in Rome, loving it well, though she never ceased railing at it for sundry inconveniences, was always singing the praises of Vienna and would have all her shopping done for her "at home" because she was convinced that nothing was to be had in Rome but photographs, antiques and wax-matches.

The company had just finished a lively dinner, throughout which they had unanimously abused the new Italian Ministry; but with the arrival of the coffee and cigarettes they turned to the consideration of the princess's antiquities which she had spread out on the floor for inspection. The gentlemen threw themselves on all-fours to examine the arras and the shields, and p.r.o.nounced their verdict with conscientious frankness. No one, it seemed, was thoroughly convinced of the authenticity of the treasures but the Countess Marie Schalingen, a lady who had been for some few weeks in Rome as the princess's guest; all the others had doubts. The most vigorous sceptic of them all was Count Siegburg, who, to be sure, was the one who knew least of such matters, but who nevertheless spoke of "electrotype casts and modern imitations"

with supreme decisiveness.

Wips, or more correctly Wiprecht Siegburg, was the spoilt child of the Austrian circle; I doubt whether he could have invented gunpowder, have discovered America, or have proved that the earth goes round, but for work-a-day company he was certainly pleasanter than Schwarz, Columbus or Galileo. He had been attached to the emba.s.sy with no hope of his finding a career, but simply to get him away from Vienna, where his debts had at last become inconveniently heavy. His widowed mother, after much meditation, had hit upon this admirable plan for checking her son in his extravagance.

"You make me quite nervous, Siegburg," said the princess at length, "though I know that you have not the faintest glimmering of knowledge on the subject."

"Perhaps you are right," he answered coolly. "At any rate, I have lost confidence lately in my critical instincts. I always used to think that the genuineness of antiquities was in proportion to their dirt; but now that I have learnt that even the dirt is counterfeit I have lost all basis of judgment."

They all laughed at this confession, not so much for its wit as because every one laughed at Siegburg's little sallies. They were in the smoking-room, a snug apartment, picturesquely and comfortably furnished with carved wood and oriental cushions. All the party were on the intimate terms of "just ourselves," a mixture of courteous deference and hearty friendliness. The conversation was not precisely learned; on the contrary, there was a certain frivolity in its tone; very bad jokes were perpetrated and some anecdotes related savoring of Saint-Simon in raciness without any one being scandalized, for they were not in the mood to run every jest to earth, to treat every point by chemical a.n.a.lysis, or take every word literally. Superficiality is sometimes a gracious and a blessed thing.

"I feel so thoroughly at home to-day--in such an Austrian atmosphere...." exclaimed the hostess. "But I have a presentiment that it will not be of long duration. Mesdames de Gandry and Ferguson are dining in this neighborhood...."

As she spoke the servant announced Prince Norina.

"'Coming events cast their shadows before,'" quoted Sempaly; it was well known that when Prince Norina made his appearance the Countess de Gandry would soon follow. Norina was fat and fair, handsome on the barber's block pattern, and for the last four or five years had been dancing attendance on the French countess. He bowed to the princess, shook hands with the men and was instantly seized upon by the master of the house to listen to a tirade on the latest misdemeanors of the government. Vulpini was the blackest of the Black, a strong adherent of the pope, though from political rather than religious bias---chiefly indeed as a fanatically exclusive Roman, who scorned to make common cause with Italy at large, and regarded "_Italia unita_" as a wild chimera. Prince Norina, who had no political convictions, listened to him and nodded a.s.sent to anything and everything.

The company now adjourned to the drawing-room, a large uncomfortable room furnished in a motley style, partly Louis XV. and partly Empire, and which opened out of the more splendid salon in which the princess received formally, and the boudoir to which none but her most intimate friends were admitted. The conversation had lost much of its liveliness, and had flattened to a level at which some of the company had taken refuge in photographs when Madame de Gandry and Mrs. Ferguson were announced and rustled in.

Madame de Gandry--a pale brunette, interesting rather than pretty, with a turned-up nose and hard bright eyes, noisy and coquettish, inconsiderate and saucy, because she fancied it gave her style--had for the last five years ruled the destinies of Prince Norina. Society had, however, agreed, perhaps for its own convenience, to regard their intimacy as mere good fellowship. The lady was looked upon as one of those giddy creatures who love to sport on the edge of an abyss. Mrs.

Ferguson, the daughter of a hotel-keeper at San Francisco and wife of a man whose wealth increased daily, was the exact opposite to Madame de Gandry--white and pink, with large eyes and sharp little teeth, very slender and flat-figured like many Americans. She dyed her hair, rouged, dressed conspicuously, spoke eccentric English and detestable French, sang Judic's songs, and had been introduced to Roman society by the Marchese B---- who had met her at Nice. Her friendship with Madame de Gandry had begun on the strength of a landau they had hired between them, had culminated in an opera-box on the same terms, and would probably be destroyed by a lover--in common too.

A few gentlemen had also arrived: Count de Gandry, who looked like a hair-dresser and was suspected of carrying on a covert business as dealer in antiquities; M. Dieudonne Crespigny de Bellancourt, a square-built French diplomatist, the son of a butcher and son-in-law to a duke, etc., etc. The latest bankruptcy, the climate of Rome, the excavations, were all discussed. Madame de Gandry and Mrs. Ferguson submitted at first to the tedium of a general conversation, but contrived at the same time to attract as much of the men's attention as was possible under the circ.u.mstances. Soon after eleven the Countess Ilsenbergh came in; she had come from a grand dinner and looked bored to death.

"It really is absurd how one meets every one in Rome," she said presently, when she had been questioned as to the how and where of the party she had just quitted. "Who do you think I came across to-day, Marie?--That Lenz girl from Vienna; now she is a d.u.c.h.ess or a Countess Montidor--Heaven knows which; once, years ago, I had something to do with a charity sale she got up, so now she comes up to me as if I were an old acquaintance and pretends to be intimate, talks of 'we Austrians,' and 'at home at Vienna.'--Amusing, rather?"

"Poor Fritzi! I feel for you!" exclaimed Sempaly with a malicious laugh. "But there is a greater treat in store for you. The Sterzl women, mother and sister, are coming in a few days."

"Indeed! that is pleasant certainly!"

"Why?" asked Madame de Gandry, throwing herself into the conversation.

"Are they objectionable people?"

"By no means," said the countess quickly. "I believe they are the most respectable people in the world, but--it is a bore to be constantly meeting people here whom one could not possibly recognize in Vienna.

You should give him a hint, Nicki--tell him--explain to him...."

"To be sure," said Sempaly laughing, "I might say: Look here, my good friend, beware of taking your mother and sister out anywhere; my cousin the countess would rather not meet them."

The countess shrugged her shoulders and turned away from her flippant interlocutor, tapping her fan impatiently. "Do you mean to receive them Marie?" she asked.

"Whom do I not receive?" said the princess in an undertone, with a significant glance.

"Well I cannot--decidedly not," said the countess excitedly, "though I shall be grieved to annoy Sterzl. It will be his own fault entirely if he forces me to explain myself."

"Do as you think proper," replied her friend, "but you know I am very fond of Sterzl; he stands high in my good graces."

"What! _le Paysan du Danube_?" giggled Madame de Gandry, who had only partly understood the conversation.

"Sterzl is a man of the highest respectability," said the countess icily; she did not intend to allow that little French woman to laugh at her fellow-countryman, though he was not a man of birth.

"_Le Paysan du Danube_ is my particular friend," said the princess with the simple heartiness that was so peculiarly her own. "I am very fond of him; he is quite one of ourselves."

"He can have no higher reward on earth," said her brother with good-humored irony.

"When my small boy fell and broke his arm, here in this very room, Sterzl picked him up, and you should have seen how gently he held my poor darling," added the princess.

"That is ample evidence in favor of the fact that his woman-kind are presentable," laughed Sempaly.

"But allow me to ask," interposed the Madame de Gandry, "just that I may understand what I am about--these Sterzls, they are not in good society in Austria?"

"Our Austrian etiquette can afford no standpoint for foreign society,"

said Truyn with unusual sharpness, for he could not endure Madame de Gandry; "we receive no one who is not by birth one of ourselves."

"Yes," said Sempaly with a keen glance, "Austrian society is as exclusive as the House of Israel, and scorns proselytes." And the leather-seller's daughter, who had not understood--or not chosen to understand Truyn's speech, replied with much presence of mind: "Ah, I am glad to know what I am about."

Siegburg, who was sitting behind her, glanced at Sempaly and made an expressive grimace.

Princess Vulpini looked almost spiteful. "I will not leave Sterzl in the lurch," she said, "and if his sister is like his description of her...."

"He has talked to you about his sister?" interrupted Sempaly.

"To be sure," said the princess with a smile, "and to you too, I should not wonder, Nicki?"

"No indeed, he does not show me his sacred places, I am not worthy,"

replied Sempaly. "He only told me that she was coming, and with a very singular smile. Hm, Hm! he seems to set great store by the young lady and will no doubt look out for a fine match for her. I should not wonder if he had got her here for that express purpose. Norina, take care of yourself--forewarned you know...."

"Mademoiselle Sterzl will hardly aspire to a prince's crown!" exclaimed Madame de Gandry, up in arms to defend her property.

"Sterzl will not let his sister go for less," a.s.serted Sempaly.

"Do not talk such nonsense," said Truyn, to check Sempaly's audacity.

But Sempaly was leaning over a table and scribbling on the back of an old letter; presently he handed the half sheet to the Countess Ilsenbergh; Madame de Gandry peeped over her shoulder.

"Capital!" she exclaimed, "delicious!" Sempaly had sketched Sterzl as an auctioneer, the hammer in one hand and a fashionably-dressed doll in the other, with all the Princes in Rome crowded round. In one corner he had written: "This lot--Fraulein Sterzl--once, twice, thrice...."