CHAPTER XIV.
COUNT PATEROFF AND HIS SISTER.
After an interval of some weeks, during which Harry had been downat Clavering and had returned again to his work at the Adelphi,Count Pateroff called again in Bloomsbury Square;--but Harry wasat Mr. Beilby's office. Harry at once returned the count's visitat the address given in Mount Street. Madame was at home, said theservant-girl, from which Harry was led to suppose that the count wasa married man; but Harry felt that he had no right to intrude uponmadame, so he simply left his card. Wishing, however, really tohave this interview, and having been lately elected at a club ofwhich he was rather proud, he wrote to the count asking him to dinewith him at the Beaufort. He explained that there was a strangers'room,--which Pateroff knew very well, having often dined at theBeaufort,--and said something as to a private little dinner for two,thereby apologizing for proposing to the count to dine without otherguests. Pateroff accepted the invitation, and Harry, never havingdone such a thing before, ordered his dinner with much nervousness.
The count was punctual, and the two men introduced themselves.Harry had expected to see a handsome foreigner, with black hair,polished whiskers, and probably a hook nose,--forty years of age orthereabouts, but so got up as to look not much more than thirty.But his guest was by no means a man of that stamp. Excepting thatthe count's age was altogether uncertain, no correctness of guesson that matter being possible by means of his appearance, Harry'spreconceived notion was wrong in every point. He was a fair man, witha broad fair face, and very light blue eyes; his forehead was low,but broad; he wore no whiskers, but bore on his lip a heavy moustachewhich was not grey, but perfectly white--white it was with years ofcourse, but yet it gave no sign of age to his face. He was well made,active, and somewhat broad in the shoulders, though rather below themiddle height. But for a certain ease of manner which he possessed,accompanied by something of restlessness in his eye, any one wouldhave taken him for an Englishman. And his speech hardly betrayed thathe was not English. Harry, knowing that he was a foreigner, noticednow and again some little acquired distinctness of speech which ishardly natural to a native; but otherwise there was nothing in histongue to betray him.
"I am sorry that you should have had so much trouble," he said,shaking hands with Harry. Clavering declared that he had incurred notrouble, and declared also that he would be only too happy to havetaken any trouble in obeying a behest from his friend Lady Ongar. Hadhe been a Pole as was the count, he would not have forgotten to addthat he would have been equally willing to exert himself with theview of making the count's acquaintance; but being simply a youngEnglishman, he was much too awkward for any such courtesy as that.The count observed the omission, smiled, and bowed. Then he spoke ofthe weather, and said that London was a magnificent city. Oh, yes,he knew London well,--had known it these twenty years;--had beenfor fifteen years a member of the Travellers';--he liked everythingEnglish, except hunting. English hunting he had found to be dullwork. But he liked shooting for an hour or two. He could not rival,he said, the intense energy of an Englishman, who would work all daywith his guns harder than ploughmen with their ploughs. Englishmensported, he said, as though more than their bread,--as though theirhonour, their wives, their souls, depended on it. It was very fine!He often wished that he was an Englishman. Then he shrugged hisshoulders.
Harry was very anxious to commence a conversation about Lady Ongar,but he did not know how at first to introduce her name. CountPateroff had come to him at Lady Ongar's request, and therefore, ashe thought, the count should have been the first to mention her. Butthe count seemed to be enjoying his dinner without any thought eitherof Lady Ongar or of her late husband. At this time he had been downto Ongar Park, on that mission which had been, as we know, futile;but he said no word of that to Harry. He seemed to enjoy his dinnerthoroughly, and made himself very agreeable. When the wine wasdiscussed he told Harry that a certain vintage of Moselle was veryfamous at the Beaufort. Harry ordered the wine of course, and wasdelighted to give his guest the best of everything; but he was alittle annoyed at finding that the stranger knew his club better thanhe knew it himself. Slowly the count ate his dinner, enjoying everymorsel that he took with that thoughtful, conscious pleasure whichyoung men never attain in eating and drinking, and which men as theygrow older so often forget to acquire. But the count never forgot anyof his own capacities for pleasure, and in all things made the mostof his own resources. To be rich is not to have one or ten thousand ayear, but to be able to get out of that one or ten thousand all thatevery pound, and every shilling, and every penny will give you. Afterthis fashion the count was a rich man.
"You don't sit after dinner here, I suppose," said the count, whenhe had completed an elaborate washing of his mouth and moustache. "Ilike this club because we who are strangers have so charming a roomfor our smoking. It is the best club in London for men who do notbelong to it."
It occurred to Harry that in the smoking-room there could be noprivacy. Three or four men had already spoken to the count, showingthat he was well known, giving notice, as it were, that Pateroffwould become a public man when once he was placed in a public circle.To have given a dinner to the count, and to have spoken no wordto him about Lady Ongar, would be by no means satisfactory toHarry's feelings, though, as it appeared, it might be sufficientlysatisfactory to the guest. Harry therefore suggested one bottle ofclaret. The count agreed, expressing an opinion that the 51 Lafittewas unexceptional. The 51 Lafitte was ordered, and Harry, as hefilled his glass, considered the way in which his subject should beintroduced.
"You knew Lord Ongar, I think, abroad?"
"Lord Ongar,--abroad! Oh, yes, very well; and for many years here inLondon; and at Vienna; and very early in life at St. Petersburg. Iknew Lord Ongar first in Russia when he was attached to the embassyas Frederic Courton. His father, Lord Courton, was then alive, as wasalso his grandfather. He was a nice, good-looking lad then."
"As regards his being nice, he seems to have changed a good dealbefore he died." This the count noticed by simply shrugging hisshoulders and smiling as he sipped his wine. "By all that I can hearhe became a horrid brute when he married," said Harry, energetically.
"He was not pleasant when he was ill at Florence," said the count.
"She must have had a terrible time with him," said Harry.
The count put up his hands, again shrugged his shoulders, and thenshook his head. "She knew he was no longer an Adonis when he marriedher."
"An Adonis! No; she did not expect an Adonis; but she thought hewould have something of the honour and feelings of a man."
"She found it uncomfortable, no doubt. He did too much of this, youknow," said the count, raising his glass to his lips; "and he didn'tdo it with 51 Lafitte. That was Ongar's fault. All the world knew itfor the last ten years. No one knew it better than Hugh Clavering."
"But--" said Harry, and then he stopped. He hardly knew what it wasthat he wished to learn from the man, though he certainly did wishto learn something. He had thought that the count would himself havetalked about Lady Ongar and those Florentine days, but this he didnot seem disposed to do. "Shall we have our cigars now?" said CountPateroff.
"One moment, if you don't mind."
"Certainly, certainly. There is no hurry."
"You will take no more wine?"
"No more wine. I take my wine at dinner, as you saw."
"I want to ask you one special question,--about Lady Ongar."
"I will say anything in her favour that you please. I am always readyto say anything in the favour of any lady, and, if needs be, to swearit. But anything against any lady nobody ever heard me say."
Harry was sharp enough to perceive that any assertion made undersuch a stipulation was worse than nothing. It was as when a man, indenying the truth of a statement, does so with an assurance that onthat subject he should consider himself justified in telling anynumber of lies. "I did not write the book,--but you have no right toask the question; and I should say that I had not, even if I ha
d."Pateroff was speaking of Lady Ongar in this way, and Harry hated himfor doing so.
"I don't want you to say any good of her," said he, "or any evil."
"I certainly shall say no evil of her."
"But I think you know that she has been most cruelly treated."
"Well, there is about seven--thousand--pounds a year, I think!Seven--thousand--a year! Not francs, but pounds! We poor foreignerslose ourselves in amazement when we hear about your English fortunes.Seven thousand pounds a year for a lady all alone, and a beautifulhouse! A house so beautiful, they tell me!"
"What has that to do with it?" said Harry; whereupon the count againshrugged his shoulders. "What has that to do with it? Because the manwas rich he was not justified in ill-treating his wife. Did he notbring false accusations against her, in order that he might rob herafter his death of all that of which you think so much? Did he notbear false witness against her, to his own dishonour?"
"Did he not bear false witness against her?"]
"She has got the money, I think,--and the beautiful house."
"But her name has been covered with lies."
"What can I do? Why do you ask me? I know nothing. Look here, Mr.Clavering, if you want to make any inquiry you had better go to mysister. I don't see what good it will do, but she will talk to you bythe hour together, if you wish it. Let us smoke."
"Your sister?"
"Yes, my sister. Madame Gordeloup is her name. Has not Lady Ongarmentioned my sister? They are inseparables. My sister lives in MountStreet."
"With you?"
"No, not with me; I do not live in Mount Street. I have my addresssometimes at her house."
"Madame Gordeloup?"
"Yes, Madame Gordeloup. She is Lady Ongar's friend. She will talk toyou."
"Will you introduce me, Count Pateroff?"
"Oh, no; it is not necessary. You can go to Mount Street, and shewill be delighted. There is the card. And now we will smoke." Harryfelt that he could not, with good-breeding, detain the count anylonger, and, therefore, rising from his chair, led the way into thesmoking-room. When there, the man of the world separated himself fromhis young friend, of whose enthusiasm he had perhaps had enough, andwas soon engaged in conversation with sundry other men of his ownstanding. Harry soon perceived that his guest had no further needof his countenance, and went home to Bloomsbury Square by no meanssatisfied with his new acquaintance.
On the next day he dined in Onslow Crescent with the Burtons, andwhen there he said nothing about Lady Ongar or Count Pateroff. Hewas not aware that he had any special reason for being silent on thesubject, but he made up his mind that the Burtons were people so farremoved in their sphere of life from Lady Ongar, that the subjectwould not be suitable in Onslow Crescent. It was his lot in life tobe concerned with people of the two classes. He did not at all meanto say,--even to himself,--that he liked the Ongar class the better;but still, as such was his lot, he must take it as it came, andentertain both subjects of interest, without any commingling of themone with another. Of Lady Ongar and his early love he had spoken toFlorence at some length, but he did not find it necessary in hisletters to tell her anything of Count Pateroff and his dinner at theBeaufort. Nor did he mention the dinner to his dear friend Cecilia.On this occasion he made himself very happy in Onslow Crescent,playing with the children, chatting with his friend, and enduring,with a good grace, Theodore Burton's sarcasm, when that ever-studiousgentleman told him that he was only fit to go about tied to a woman'sapron-string.
On the following day, about five o'clock, he called in Mount Street.He had doubted much as to this, thinking that at any rate he ought,in the first place, to write and ask permission. But at last heresolved that he would take the count at his word, and presentinghimself at the door, he sent up his name. Madame Gordeloup was athome, and in a few moments he found himself in the room in which thelady was sitting, and recognized her whom he had seen with Lady Ongarin Bolton Street. She got up at once, having glanced at the name uponthe card, and seemed to know all about him. She shook hands with himcordially, almost squeezing his hand, and bade him sit down nearher on the sofa. "She was so glad to see him, for her dear Julie'ssake. Julie, as of course he knew, was at 'Ongere' Park. Oh! sohappy,"--which, by the by, he did not know,--"and would be up in thecourse of next week. So many things to do, of course, Mr. Clavering.The house, and the servants, and the park, and the beautiful thingsof a large country establishment! But it was delightful, and Juliewas quite happy!"
No people could be more unlike to each other than this brother andhis sister. No human being could have taken Madame Gordeloup for anEnglishwoman, though it might be difficult to judge, either from herlanguage or her appearance, of the nationality to which she belonged.She spoke English with great fluency, but every word uttered declaredher not to be English. And when she was most fluent she was mostincorrect in her language. She was small, eager, and quick, andappeared quite as anxious to talk as her brother had been to holdhis tongue. She lived in a small room on the first floor of a smallhouse; and it seemed to Harry that she lived alone. But he hadnot been long there before she had told him all her history, andexplained to him most of her circumstances. That she kept backsomething is probable; but how many are there who can afford to telleverything?
Her husband was still living, but he was at St. Petersburg. He wasa Frenchman by family, but had been born in Russia. He had beenattached to the Russian embassy in London, but was now attached todiplomacy in general in Russia. She did not join him because sheloved England,--oh, so much! And, perhaps, her husband might comeback again some day. She did not say that she had not seen him forten years, and was not quite sure whether he was dead or alive; buthad she made a clean breast in all things, she might have done so.She said that she was a good deal still at the Russian embassy; butshe did not say that she herself was a paid spy. Nor do I say so now,positively; but that was the character given to her by many who knewher. She called her brother Edouard, as though Harry had known thecount all his life; and always spoke of Lady Ongar as Julie. Sheuttered one or two little hints which seemed to imply that she kneweverything that had passed between "Julie" and Harry Clavering inearly days; and never mentioned Lord Ongar without some term ofviolent abuse.
"Horrid wretch!" she said, pausing over all the _r's_ in the name shehad called him. "It began, you know, from the very first. Of coursehe had been a fool. An old roue is always a fool to marry. What doeshe get, you know, for his money? A pretty face. He's tired of thatas soon as it's his own. Is it not so, Mr. Clavering? But otherpeople ain't tired of it, and then he becomes jealous. But Lord Ongarwas not jealous. He was not man enough to be jealous. Hor-r-ridwr-retch!" She then went on telling many things which, as helistened, almost made Harry Clavering's hair stand on end, and whichmust not be repeated here. She herself had met her brother in Paris,and had been with him when they encountered the Ongars in thatcapital. According to her showing, they had, all of them, beentogether nearly from that time to the day of Lord Ongar's death. ButHarry soon learned to feel that he could not believe all that thelittle lady told him.
"Edouard was always with him. Poor Edouard!" she said. "There wassome money matter between them about ecarte. When that wr-retch gotto be so bad, he did not like parting with his money,--not even whenhe had lost it! And Julie had been so good always! Julie and Edouardhad done everything for the nasty wr-retch." Harry did not at alllike this mingling of the name of Julie and Edouard, though it didnot for a moment fill his mind with any suspicion as to Lady Ongar.It made him feel, however, that this woman was dangerous, and thather tongue might be very mischievous if she talked to others as shedid to him. As he looked at her,--and being now in her own room shewas not dressed with scrupulous care,--and as he listened to her, hecould not conceive what Lady Ongar had seen in her that she shouldhave made a friend of her. Her brother, the count, was undoubtedlya gentleman in his manners and way of life, but he did not know bywhat name to call this woman, who called Lady Ongar Julie. She wasaltogether unlike
any ladies whom he had known.
"You know that Julie will be in town next week?"
"No; I did not know when she was to return."
"Oh, yes; she has business with those people in South Audley Streeton Thursday. Poor dear! Those lawyers are so harassing! But whenpeople have seven--thousand--pounds a year, they must put up withlawyers." As she pronounced those talismanic words, which to her werealmost celestial, Harry perceived for the first time that there wassome sort of resemblance between her and the count. He could see thatthey were brother and sister. "I shall go to her directly she comes,and of course I will tell her how good you have been to come tome. And Edouard has been dining with you? How good of you. He toldme how charming you are,"--Harry was quite sure then that she wasfibbing,--"and that it was so pleasant! Edouard is very much attachedto Julie; very much. Though, of course, all that was mere nonsense;just lies told by that wicked lord. Bah! what did he know?" Harry bythis time was beginning to wish that he had never found his way toMount Street.
"Of course they were lies," he said roughly.
"Of course, mon cher. Those things always are lies, and so wicked!What good do they do?"
"Lies never do any good," said Harry.
To so wide a proposition as this madame was not prepared to give anunconditional assent; she therefore shrugged her shoulders and onceagain looked like her brother.
"Ah!" she said. "Julie is a happy woman now. Seven--thousand--poundsa year! One does not know how to believe it; does one?"
"I never heard the amount of her income," said Harry.
"It is all that," said the Franco-Pole, energetically, "every francof it, besides the house! I know it. She told me herself. Yes. Whatwoman would risk that, you know; and his life, you may say, as goodas gone? Of course they were lies."
"I don't think you understand her, Madame Gordeloup."
"Oh, yes; I know her, so well. And love her--oh, Mr. Clavering, Ilove her so dearly! Is she not charming? So beautiful you know, andgrand. Such a will, too! That is what I like in a woman. Such acourage! She never flinched in those horrid days, never. And when hecalled her,--you know what,--she only looked at him, just looked athim, miserable object. Oh, it was beautiful!" And Madame Gordeloup,rising in her energy from her seat for the purpose, strove to throwupon Harry such another glance as the injured, insulted wife hadthrown upon her foul-tongued, dying lord.
"She will marry," said Madame Gordeloup, changing her tone with asuddenness that made Harry start; "yes, she will marry of course.Your English widows always marry if they have money. They are wrong,and she will be wrong; but she will marry."
"I do not know how that may be," said Harry, looking foolish.
"I tell you I know she will marry, Mr. Clavering; I told Edouard soyesterday. He merely smiled. It would hardly do for him, she has somuch will. Edouard has a will also."
"All men have, I suppose."
"Ah, yes; but there is a difference. A sum of money down, if a man isto marry, is better than a widow's dower. If she dies, you know, helooks so foolish. And she is grand and will want to spend everything.Is she much older than you, Mr. Clavering? Of course I know Julie'sage, though perhaps you do not. What will you give me to tell?" Andthe woman leered at him with a smile which made Harry think that shewas almost more than mortal. He found himself quite unable to copewith her in conversation, and soon after this got up to take hisleave. "You will come again," she said. "Do. I like you so much. Andwhen Julie is in town, we shall be able to see her together, and Iwill be your friend. Believe me."
Harry was very far from believing her, and did not in the leastrequire her friendship. Her friendship indeed! How could any decentEnglish man or woman wish for the friendship of such a creature asthat? It was thus that he thought of her as he walked away from MountStreet, making heavy accusations, within his own breast, against LadyOngar as he did so. Julia! He repeated the name over to himself adozen times, thinking that the flavour of it was lost since it hadbeen contaminated so often by that vile tongue. But what concern wasit of his? Let her be Julia to whom she would, she could never beJulia again to him. But she was his friend--Lady Ongar, and he toldhimself plainly that his friend had been wrong in having permittedherself to hold any intimacy with such a woman as that. No doubt LadyOngar had been subjected to very trying troubles in the last monthsof her husband's life, but no circumstances could justify her, if shecontinued to endorse the false cordiality of that horribly vulgarand evil-minded little woman. As regarded the grave charges broughtagainst Lady Ongar, Harry still gave no credit to them, still lookedupon them as calumnies, in spite of the damning advocacy of Sophieand her brother; but he felt that she must have dabbled in verydirty water to have returned to England with such claimants on herfriendship as these. He had not much admired the count, but thecount's sister had been odious to him. "I will be your friend.Believe me." Harry Clavering stamped upon the pavement as hethought of the little Pole's offer to him. She be his friend! No,indeed;--not if there were no other friend for him in all London.
Sophie, too, had her thoughts about him. Sophie was very anxiousin this matter, and was resolved to stick as close to her Julie aspossible. "I will be his friend or his enemy;--let him choose." Thathad been Sophie's reflection on the matter when she was left alone.
The Claverings Page 15