The Young Duke Part 30

'Oh! then you have seen them?'

'Seen whom?'

'The most knowing _forestieri_ we ever had. We have been speaking of nothing else the whole evening. Has not Caroline told you? Arundel Dacre introduced me to them.'

'Who are they?'

'I forget their names. Dacre, how do you call the heroes of the night?

Dacre never answers. Did you ever observe that? But, see! there they come.'

The Duke turned, and observed Lord Darrell advancing with two gentlemen with whom his Grace was well acquainted. These were Prince Charles de Whiskerburg and Count Frill.

M. de Whiskerburg was the eldest son of a prince, who, besides being the premier n.o.ble of the empire, possessed, in his own country, a very pretty park of two or three hundred miles in circ.u.mference, in the boundaries of which the imperial mandate was not current, but hid its diminished head before the supremacy of a subject worshipped under the t.i.tle of John the Twenty-fourth. M. de Whiskerburg was a young man, tall, with a fine figure, and fine features. In short, a sort of Hungarian Apollo; only his beard, his mustachios, his whiskers, his _favoris_, his _padishas_, his sultanas, his mignonettas, his dulcibellas, did not certainly ent.i.tle him to the epithet of _imberbis_, and made him rather an apter representative of the Hungarian Hercules.

Count Frill was a different sort of personage. He was all rings and ringlets, ruffles, and a little rouge. Much older than his companion, short in stature, plump in figure, but with a most defined waist, fair, blooming, with a multiplicity of long light curls, and a perpetual smile playing upon his round countenance, he looked like the Cupid of an opera Olympus.

The Duke of St. James had been intimate with these distinguished gentlemen in their own country, and had received from them many and distinguished attentions. Often had he expressed to them his sincere desire to greet them in his native land. Their mutual anxiety of never again meeting was now removed. If his heart, instead of being bruised, had been absolutely broken, still honour, conscience, the glory of his house, his individual reputation, alike urged him not to be cold or backward at such a moment. He advanced, therefore, with a due mixture of grace and warmth, and congratulated them on their arrival. At this moment, Lady Fitz-pompey's carriage was announced. Promising to return to them in an instant, he hastened to his cousin; but Mr. Arundel Dacre had already offered his arm, which, for Arundel Dacre, was really pretty well.

The Duke was now glad that he had a small reunion this evening, as he could at once pay a courtesy to his foreign friends. He ran into the Signora's dressing-room, to a.s.sure her of his presence. He stumbled upon Peac.o.c.k Piggott as he came out, and summoned him to fill the vacant place of St. Maurice, and then sent him with a message to some friends who yet lingered in their box, and whose presence, he thought, might be an agreeable addition to the party.

You entered the Alhambra by a Saracenic cloister, from the ceiling of which an occasional lamp threw a gleam upon some Eastern arms hung up against the wall. This pa.s.sage led to the armoury, a room of moderate dimensions, but hung with rich contents. Many an inlaid breastplate, many a Mameluke scimitar and Damascus blade, many a gemmed pistol and pearl-embroidered saddle, might there be seen, though viewed in a subdued and quiet light. All seemed hushed, and still, and shrouded in what had the reputation of being a palace of pleasure.

In this chamber a.s.sembled the expected guests. And having all arrived, they proceeded down a small gallery to the banqueting-room. The room was large and lofty. It was fitted up as an Eastern tent. The walls were hung with scarlet cloth, tied up with ropes of gold. Round the room crouched rec.u.mbent lions richly gilt, who grasped in their paws a lance, the top of which was a coloured lamp. The ceiling was emblazoned with the Hauteville arms, and was radiant with burnished gold. A cresset lamp was suspended from the centre of the shield, and not only emitted an equable flow of soft though brilliant light, but also, as the aromatic oil wasted away, distilled an exquisite perfume.

The table blazed with golden plate, for the Bird of Paradise loved splendour. At the end of the room, under a canopy and upon a throne, the shield and vases lately executed for his Grace now appeared. Everything was gorgeous, costly, and imposing; but there was no pretence, save in the original outline, at maintaining the Oriental character. The furniture was French; and opposite the throne Canova's Hebe, bounded with a golden cup from a pedestal of ormolu.

The guests are seated; but after a few minutes the servants withdraw.

Small tables of ebony and silver, and dumb waiters of ivory and gold, conveniently stored, are at hand, and Spiridion never leaves the room.

The repast was refined, exquisite, various. It was one of those meetings where all eat. When a few persons, easy and unconstrained, unenc.u.mbered with cares, and of dispositions addicted to enjoyment, get together at past midnight, it is extraordinary what an appet.i.te they evince. Singers also are proverbially p.r.o.ne to gourmandise; and though the Bird of Paradise unfortunately possessed the smallest mouth in all Singingland, it is astonishing how she pecked! But they talked as well as feasted, and were really gay.

'Prince,' said the Duke, 'I hope Madame de Harestein approves of your trip to England?'

The Prince only smiled, for he was of a silent disposition, and therefore wonderfully well suited his travelling companion.

'Poor Madame de Harestein!' exclaimed Count Frill. 'What despair she was in, when you left Vienna, my dear Duke. I did what I could to amuse her.

I used to take my guitar, and sing to her morning and night, but without effect. She certainly would have died of a broken heart, if it had not been for the dancing-dogs.'

'Did they bite her?' asked a lady who affected the wit of Lord Squib, 'and so inoculate her with gaiety.'

'Everybody was mad about the dancing-dogs. They came from Peru, and danced the mazurka in green jackets with a _jabot_. Oh! what a _jabot!_'

'I dislike animals excessively,' remarked another lady, who was as refined as Mr. Annesley, her model.

'Dislike the dancing-dogs!' said Count Frill. 'Ah! my good lady, you would have been enchanted. Even the Kaiser fed them with pistachio nuts.

Oh! so pretty! Delicate leetle things, soft shining little legs, and pretty little faces! so sensible, and with such _jabots!_'

'I a.s.sure you they were excessively amusing,' said the Prince, in a soft, confidential undertone to his neighbour, Mrs. Montfort, who was as dignified as she was beautiful, and who, admiring his silence, which she took for state, smiled and bowed with fascinating condescension.

'And what else has happened very remarkable, Count, since I left you?'

asked Lord Darrell.

'Nothing, nothing, my dear Darrell. This _betise_ of a war has made us all serious. If old Clamstandt had not married that gipsy, little Dugiria, I really think I should have taken a turn to Belgrade.'

'You should not eat so much, Poppet!' drawled Charles Annesley to a Spanish danseuse, tall, dusky and lithe, glancing like a lynx and graceful as a jennet. She was very silent, but no doubt indicated the possession of Cervantic humour by the sly calmness with which she exhausted her own waiter, and pillaged her neighbours.

'Why not?' said a little French actress, highly finished like a miniature, who scarcely ate anything, but drank champagne and chatted with equal rapidity and composure, and who was always ready to fight anybody's battle, provided she could get an opportunity to talk. 'Why not, Mr. Annesley? You never will let anybody eat. I never eat myself, because every night, having to talk so much, I am dry, dry, dry; so I drink, drink, drink. It is an extraordinary thing that there is no language which makes you so thirsty as French.'

'What can be the reason?' asked a sister of Mrs. Montfort, a tall fair girl, who looked sentimental, but was only silly.

'Because there is so much salt in it,' said Lord Squib.

'Delia,' drawled Mr. Annesley, 'you look very pretty to-night!'

'I am charmed to charm you, Mr. Annesley. Shall I tell you what Lord Bon Mot said of you?'

'No, _ma mignonne!_ I never wish to hear my own good things.'

'Spoiled, you should add,' said the fair rival of Lord Squib, 'if Bon Mot be in the case.'

'Lord Bon Mot is a most gentlemanlike man,' said Delia, indignant at an admirer being attacked. 'He always wants to be amusing. Whenever he dines out, he comes and sits with me for half an hour to catch the air of the Parisian badinage.'

'And you tell him a variety of little things?' asked Lord Squib, insidiously drawing out the secret tactics of Bon Mot.

'_Beaucoup, beaucoup_,' said Delia, extending two little white hands sparkling with gems. 'If he come in ever so, how do you call it? heavy, not that: in the domps. Ah! it is that. If ever he come in the domps, he goes out always like a _soufflee_.'

'As empty, I have no doubt,' said the witty lady.

'And as sweet, I have no doubt,' said Lord Squib; 'for Delcroix complains sadly of your excesses, Delia.'

'Mr. Delcroix complain of me! That, indeed, is too bad. Just because I recommend Montmorency de Versailles to him for an excellent customer, ever since he abuses me, merely because Montmorency has forgot, in the hurry of going off, to pay his little account.'

'But he says you have got all the things,' said Lord Squib, whose great amus.e.m.e.nt was to put Delia in a pa.s.sion.

'What of that?' screamed the little lady. 'Montmorency gave them me.'

'Don't make such a noise,' said the Bird of Paradise. 'I never can eat when there is a noise. Duke,' continued she in a fretful tone, 'they make such a noise!'

'Annesley, keep Squib quiet.'

'Delia, leave that young man alone. If Isidora would talk a little more, and you eat a little more, I think you would be the most agreeable little ladies I know. Poppet! put those bonbons in your pocket. You should never eat sugarplums in company.'

Thus, talking agreeable nonsense, tasting agreeable dishes, and sipping agreeable wines, an hour ran on. Sweetest music from an unseen source ever and anon sounded, and Spiridion swung a censer full of perfumes round the chamber. At length the Duke requested Count Frill to give them a song. The Bird of Paradise would never sing for pleasure, only for fame and a slight cheque. The Count begged to decline, and at the same time asked for a guitar. The Signora sent for hers; and his Excellency, preluding with a beautiful simper, gave them some slight thing to this effect.

I.

Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!

What a gay little girl is charming Bignetta!

She dances, she prattles, She rides and she rattles; But she always is charming, that charming Bignetta!