Tales and Novels Volume IX Part 59

And these views--what were they?--Only to win all the young man's fortune at play. A cela pres--excepting this, he was sincerely Ormond's friend, ready to do every thing possible--de faire l'impossible--to oblige and entertain him.

Connal enjoyed Ormond's surprise at the magnificence of his hotel. After ascending a s.p.a.cious staircase, and pa.s.sing through antechamber after antechamber, they reached the splendid salon, blazing with lights, reflected on all sides in mirrors, that reached from the painted ceiling to the inlaid floor.

"Not a creature here yet--happily." "Madame begs," said the servant, "that Monsieur will pa.s.s on into the boudoir."

"Any body with Madame?"

"No one but Madame de Clairville."

"Only _l'amie intime_," said Connal, "the bosom friend."

"How will Dora feel?--How will it be with us both?" thought Ormond, as he followed the light step of the husband.

"Entrez!--Entrez toujours."

Ormond stopped at the threshold, absolutely dazzled by the brilliancy of Dora's beauty, her face, her figure, her air, so infinitely improved, so fas.h.i.+oned!

"Dora!--Ah! Madame de Connal," cried Ormond.

No French actor could have done it better than nature did it for him.

Dora gave one glance at Ormond--pleasure, joy, sparkled in her eyes; then leaning on the lady who stood beside her, almost sinking, Dora sighed, and exclaimed, "Ah! Harry Ormond!"

The husband vanished.

"Ah ciel!" said l'amie intime, looking towards Ormond.

"Help me to support her, Monsieur--while I seek de l'eau de Cologne."

Ormond, seized with sudden tremor, could scarcely advance.

Dora sunk on the sofa, clasping her beautiful hands, and exclaiming, "The companion of my earliest days!"

Then Ormond, excused to himself, sprang forward,--"Friend of my childhood!" cried he: "yes, my sister: your father promised me this friends.h.i.+p--this happiness," said he supporting her, as she raised herself from the sofa.

"Ou est-il? ou est-il?--Where is he, Monsieur Ormond?" cried Mademoiselle, throwing open the door. "Ah ciel, comme il est beau! A perfect Frenchman already! And how much embellished by dress!--Ah!

Paris for that. Did I not prophesy?--Dora, my darling, do me the justice.--But--comme vous voila saisie!--here's l'amie with l'eau de Cologne. Ah! my child, recover yourself, for here is some one--the Comte de Jarillac it is entering the salon."

The prompt.i.tude of Dora's recovery was a new surprise to our hero.

"Follow me," said she to him, and with Parisian ease and grace she glided into the salon to receive M. de Jarillac--presented Ormond to M. le Comte--"Anglois--Irlandois--an English, an Irish gentleman--the companion of her childhood," with the slightest, lightest tone of sentiment imaginable; and another count and another came, and a baron, and a marquis, and a duke, and Madame la Comtesse de ----, and Madame la d.u.c.h.esse ----; and all were received with ease, respect, vivacity, or sentiment as the occasion required--now advancing a step or two to mark _empress.e.m.e.nt_ where requisite;--regaining always, imperceptibly, the most advantageous situation and att.i.tude for herself;--presenting Ormond to every one--quite intent upon him, yet appearing entirely occupied with every body else; and, in short, never forgetting them, him, or herself for an instant.

"Can this be Dora?" thought Ormond in admiration, yet in astonishment that divided his feelings. It was indeed wonderful to see how quickly, how completely, the Irish country girl had been metamorphosed into a French woman of fas.h.i.+on.

And now surrounded by admirers, by adorers in embroidery and blazing with crosses and stars, she received _les hommages_--enjoyed _le succes_--accepted the incense without bending too low or holding herself too high--not too sober, nor too obviously intoxicated. Vanity in all her heart, yet vanity not quite turning her head, not more than was agreeable and becoming--extending her smiles to all, and hoping all the time that Harry Ormond envied each. Charmed with him--for her early pa.s.sion for him had revived in an instant--the first sight of his figure and air, the first glance in the boudoir, had been sufficient. She knew, too, how well he would _succeed_ at Paris--how many rivals she would have in a week: these perceptions, sensations, and conclusions, requiring so much time in slow words to express, had darted through Dora's head in one instant, had exalted her imagination, and touched her heart--as much as that heart could be touched.

Ormond meantime breathed more freely, and recovered from his tremors.

Madame de Connal, surrounded by adorers, and s.h.i.+ning in the salon, was not so dangerous as Dora, half fainting in the boudoir; nor had any words that wit or sentiment could devise power to please or touch him so much as the "_Harry Ormond_!" which had burst naturally from Dora's lips. Now he began almost to doubt whether nature or art prevailed.

Now he felt himself safe at least, since he saw that it was only the coquette of the Black Islands transformed into the coquette of the Hotel de Connal. The transformation was curious, was admirable; Ormond thought he could admire without danger, and, in due time, perhaps gallant, with the best of them, without feeling--without scruple.

The tables were now arranging for play. The conversation he heard every where round him related to the good or bad fortune of the preceding nights. Ormond perceived that it was the custom of the house to play every evening, and the expressions that reached him about bets and debts confirmed the hint which his guardian had given him, that Connal played high.

At present, however, he did not seem to have any design upon Ormond--he was engaged at the further end of the room. He left him quite to himself, and to Madame, and never once even asked him to play.

There seemed more danger of his being _left out_, than of his being _taken in_.

"Donnez-moi le bras--Come with me, Monsieur Ormond," said Mademoiselle, "and you shall lose nothing--while they are settling about their parties, we can get one little moment's chat."

She took him back to the boudoir.

"I want to make you know our Paris," said she: "here we can see the whole world pa.s.s in review, and I shall tell you every thing most necessary for you to know; for example--who is who--and still more it imports you to know who and who are together."

"Look at that lady, beautiful as the day, in diamonds."

"Madame de Connal, do you mean?" said Ormond.

"Ah! no; not her always," said Mademoiselle: "though she has the apple here, without contradiction," continued Mademoiselle, still speaking in English, which it was always her pride to speak to whomsoever could understand her. "Absolutely, without vanity, though my niece, I may say it, she is a perfect creature--and mise a ravir!--Did you ever see such a change for the best in one season? Ah! Paris!--Did I not tell you well?--And you felt it well yourself--you lost your head, I saw that, at first sight of her _a la Francoise_--the best proof of your taste and sensibilite--she has infinite sensibility too!--interesting, and at the height, what you English call the tip-top, of the fas.h.i.+on here."

"So it appears, indeed," said Ormond, "by the crowd of admirers I see round Madame de Connal."

"Admirers! yes, adorers, you may say--encore, if you added lovers, you would not be much wrong; dying for love--eperdument epris! See, there, he who is bowing now--Monsieur le Marquis de Beaulieu--homme de cour--plein d'esprit--homme marquant--very remarkable man. But--Ah!

voila que entre--of the court. Did you ever see finer entree made by man into a room, so full of grace? Ah! le Comte de Belle Cha.s.se--How many women already he has _lost_!--It is a real triumph to Madame de Connal to have him in her chains. What a smile!--C'est lui qui est aimable pour nous autres--d'une soumission pour les femmes--d'une fierte pour les hommes. As the lamb gentle for the pretty woman; as the lion terrible for the man. It is that Comte de Belle Cha.s.se who is absolutely irresistible."

"_Absolutely_ irresistible," Ormond repeated, smiling; "not absolutely, I hope."

"Oh! that is understood--you do not doubt la sagesse de Madame?--Besides, _heureus.e.m.e.nt_, there is an infinite safety for her in the number, as you see, of her adorers. Wait till I name them to you--I shall give you a catalogue raisonnee."

With rapid enunciation Mademoiselle went through the names and rank of the circle of adorers, noting with complacency the number of ladies to whom each man of gallantry was supposed to have paid his addresses--next to being of the blood royal, this appearing to be of the highest distinction.

"And a propos, Monsieur d'Ormond, you, yourself, when do you count to go to Versailles?--Ah!--when you shall see the king and the king's supper, and Madame la Dauphine! Ah!"

Mademoiselle was recalled from the ecstasy in which she had thrown up her eyes to Heaven, by some gentleman speaking to her as he pa.s.sed the open door of the boudoir arm in arm with a lady--Mademoiselle answered, with a profound inclination of the head, whispering to Ormond after they had pa.s.sed, "M. le Due de C---- with Madame de la Tour. Why he is constant always to that woman, Heaven knows better than me! Stand, if you are so good, Monsieur, a little more this way, and give your attention--they don't want you yet at play."

Then designating every person at the different card-tables, she said, "That lady is the wife of M.----, and there is M. le Baron de L---- her lover, the gentleman who looks over her cards--and that other lady with the joli pompon, she is intimate with M. de la Tour, the husband of the lady who pa.s.sed with M. le Duc." Mademoiselle explained all these arrangements with the most perfect sang froid, as things of course, that every body knew and spoke of, except just before the husbands; but there was no mystery, no concealment: "What use?--To what good?"

Ormond asked whether there were _any_ ladies in the room who were supposed to be faithful to their husbands.

"Eh!--Ma niece, par exemple, Madame de Connal, I may cite as a woman of la plus belle reputation, sans tache--what you call unblemish."

"a.s.suredly," said Ormond, "you could not, I hope, think me so indiscreet--I believe I said _ladies_ in the plural number."

"Ah! oui, a.s.suredly, and I can name you twenty. To begin, there, do you see that woman standing up, who has the air as if she think of nothing at all, and n.o.body thinking of her, with only her husband near her, _cet grand homme bleme?_--There is Madame de la Rousse--_d'une reputation intacte!_--frightfully dressed, as she is always. But, hold, you see that pretty little Comtesse de la Brie, all in white?--Charmante! I give her to you as a reputation against which slander cannot breathe--Nouvelle mariee--bride--in what you call de honey-moon; but we don't know that in French--no matter! Again, since you are curious in these things, there is another reputation without spot, Madame de St. Ange, I warrant her to you--bien froide, celle-la, cold as any English--married a full year, and still her choice to make; allons,--there is three I give you already, without counting my niece; and, wait, I will find you yet another," said Mademoiselle, looking carefully through the crowd.

She was relieved from her difficulty by the entrance of the little Abbe, who came to summon Monsieur to Madame de Connal, who did him the honour to invite him to the table. Ormond played, and fortune smiled upon him, as she usually does upon a new votary; and beauty smiled upon him perhaps on the same principle. Connal never came near him till supper was announced; then only to desire him to give his arm to a charming little Countess--la nouvelle mariee--Madame de Connal, belonging, by right of rank, to Monsieur le Comte de Belle Cha.s.se. The supper was one of the delightful _pet.i.t soupers_ for which Paris was famous at that day, and which she will never see again.

The moralist, who considers the essential interests of morality, more than the immediate pleasures of society, will think this rather a matter of rejoicing than regret. How far such society and correct female conduct be compatible, is a question which it might take too long a time to decide.

Therefore, be it sufficient here to say, that Ormond, without staying to examine it, was charmed with the present effect; with the gaiety, the wit, the politeness, the ease, and altogether with that indescribable thing, that untranslatable esprit de societe. He could not afterwards remember any thing very striking or very solid that had been said, but all was agreeable at the moment, and there was great variety. Ormond's self-love was, he knew not how, flattered. Without effort, it seemed to be the object of every body to make Paris agreeable to him; and they convinced him that he would find it the most charming place in the world--without any disparagement to his own country, to which all solid honours and advantages were left undisputed. The ladies, whom he had thought so little captivating at first view, at the theatre, were all charming on _farther acquaintance_: so full of vivacity, and something so flattering in their manner, that it put a stranger at once at his ease. Towards the end of the supper he found himself talking to two very pretty women at once, with good effect, and thinking at the same time of Dora and the Comte de Belle Cha.s.se. Moreover, he thought he saw that Dora was doing the same between the irresistible Comte, and the Marquis, plein d'esprit, from whom, while she was listening and talking without intermission, her eyes occasionally strayed, and once or twice met those of Ormond.

"Is it indiscreet to ask you whether you pa.s.sed your evening agreeably?"