CHAPTER XVIII.
It is good to be merry and wise, It's good to be honest and true; It isgood to be off with the old love Before you be on with the new.--Song.
One morning, when I was riding to the Bois de Boulogne (the celebratedplace of assignation), in order to meet Madame d'Anville, I saw a ladyon horseback, in the most imminent danger of being thrown. Her horsehad taken fright at an English tandem, or its driver, and was plungingviolently; the lady was evidently much frightened, and lost her presenceof mind more and more every moment. A man who was with her, andwho could scarcely manage his own horse, appeared to be exceedinglydesirous, but perfectly unable, to assist her; and a great numberof people were looking on, doing nothing, and saying "Good God, howdangerous!"
I have always had a great horror of being a hero in scenes, and a stillgreater antipathy to "females in distress." However, so great is theeffect of sympathy upon the most hardened of us, that I stopped fora few moments, first to look on, and secondly to assist. Just when amoment's delay might have been dangerous, I threw myself off my horse,seized her's with one hand, by the rein which she no longer had thestrength to hold, and assisted her with the other to dismount. When allthe peril was over, Monsieur, her companion, managed also to find hislegs; and I did not, I confess, wonder at his previous delay, whenI discovered that the lady in danger had been his wife. He gave me aprofusion of thanks, and she made them more than complimentary by theglance which accompanied them. Their carriage was in attendance at ashort distance behind. The husband went for it--I remained with thelady.
"Mr. Pelham," she said, "I have heard much of you from my friend MadameD'Anville, and have long been anxious for your acquaintance. I did notthink I should commence it with so great an obligation."
Flattered by being already known by name, and a subject of previousinterest, you may be sure that I tried every method to improve theopportunity I had gained; and when I handed my new acquaintance intoher carriage, my pressure of her hand was somewhat more than slightlyreturned.
"Shall you be at the English ambassador's to-night?" said the lady, asthey were about to shut the door of the carriage.
"Certainly, if you are to be there," was my answer.
"We shall meet then," said Madame, and her look said more.
I rode into the Bois; and giving my horse to my servant, as I came nearPassy, where I was to meet Madame D'Anville, I proceeded thither onfoot. I was just in sight of the spot, and indeed of my inamorata, whentwo men passed, talking very earnestly; they did not remark me, butwhat individual could ever escape my notice? The one was Thornton;the other--who could he be? Where had I seen that pale, but more thanbeautiful countenance before? I looked again. I was satisfied that Iwas mistaken in my first thought; the hair was of a completely differentcolour. "No, no," said I, "it is not he: yet how like."
I was distrait and absent during the whole time I was with MadameD'Anville. The face of Thornton's companion haunted me like a dream;and, to say the truth, there were also moments when the recollection ofmy new engagement for the evening made me tired with that which I wasenjoying the troublesome honour of keeping.
Madame D'Anville was not slow in perceiving the coldness of mybehaviour. Though a Frenchwoman, she was rather grieved than resentful.
"You are growing tired of me, my friend," she said: "and when I consideryour youth and temptations, I cannot be surprised at it--yet, Iown, that this thought gives me much greater pain than I could havesupposed."
"Bah! ma belle amie," cried I, "you deceive yourself--I adore you--Ishall always adore you; but it's getting very late."
Madame D'Anville sighed, and we parted. "She is not half so pretty oragreeable as she was," thought I, as I mounted my horse, and rememberedmy appointment at the ambassador's.
I took unusual pains with my appearance that evening, and drove to theambassador's hotel in the Rue Faubourg St. Honore, full half an hourearlier than I had ever done before. I had been some time in the roomswithout discovering my heroine of the morning. The Duchess of H--npassed by.
"What a wonderfully beautiful woman," said Mr. Howard de Howard (thespectral secretary of the embassy) to Mr. Aberton.
"Ay," answered Aberton, "but to my taste, the Duchesse de Perpignan isquite equal to her--do you know her?"
"No--yes!" said Mr. Howard de Howard; "that is, not exactly--not well;"an Englishman never owns that he does not know a duchess.
"Hem!" said Mr. Aberton, thrusting his large hand through his lank lighthair. "Hem--could one do anything, do you think, in that quarter?"
"I should think one might, with a tolerable person!" answered thespectral secretary, looking down at a pair of most shadowy supporters.
"Pray," said Aberton, "what do you think of Miss--? they say she is anheiress."
"Think of her!" said the secretary, who was as poor as he was thin,"why, I have thought of her!"
"They say, that fool Pelham makes up to her." (Little did Mr. Abertonimagine, when he made this remark, that I was close behind him.)
"I should not imagine that was true," said the secretary; "he is sooccupied with Madame D'Anville."
"Pooh!" said Aberton, dictatorially, "she never had any thing to say tohim."
"Why are you so sure?" said Mr. Howard de Howard.
"Why? because he never showed any notes from her, or ever even said hehad a liaison with her himself!"
"Ah! that is quite enough!" said the secretary. "But, is not that theDuchesse de Perpignan?"
Mr. Aberton turned, and so did I--our eyes met--his fell--well theymight, after his courteous epithet to my name; however, I had far toogood an opinion of myself to care one straw about his; besides, at thatmoment, I was wholly lost in my surprise and pleasure, in finding thatthis Duchesse de Perpignan was no other than my acquaintance of themorning. She caught my gaze and smiled as she bowed. "Now," thought I,as I approached her, "let us see if we cannot eclipse Mr. Aberton."
All love-making is just the same, and, therefore, I shall spare thereader my conversation that evening. When he recollects that it wasHenry Pelham who was the gallant, I am persuaded that he will be prettycertain as to the success.
VOLUME II.
Pelham — Complete Page 18