The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ you mention to him that to-morrow, in the afternoon, about five or – ”

      “He leaves this to-morrow morning, madam; and if you could – ”

      But before the Jew could finish his request the door was flung wide, and the great Midchekoff entered, with his hands in his coat-pockets, and his glass in one eye. He sauntered into the room with a most profound unconsciousness that there were people in it. Not a glance did he even bestow on the living figures of the scene, nor did a trait of his manner evince any knowledge of their presence. Ranging his eyes over the walls and the ceilings, he neither noticed the martial attitude of Haggerstone, nor the graceful undulations by which Mrs. Ricketts was, as it were, rehearsing a courtesy before him.

      “Originals, but all poor things, Morlache,” said the Prince. And really the observation seemed as though uttered of the company rather than the pictures.

      “Mrs. Ricketts has been good enough, your Highness – ” began the Jew.

      “Give her a Napoleon,” said he, listlessly, and turned away.

      “My sister, Mrs. Ricketts – Mrs. M-M-Montague Ricketts,” began Scroope, whose habitual timidity gave way under the extremity of provocation. And the Prince turned slowly round, and surveyed the speaker and the imposing form that loomed behind him.

      “Tell them that I don’t mean to keep any establishment here, Morlache.” And with this he strolled on, and passed into another room, while, like as in a tableau, the others stood speechless with rage and indignation.

      “He took you for the housekeeper, ma’am,” said Haggerstone, standing up with his back to the fire – “and a housekeeper out of place!”

      “Martha, where’s the General? Where is he, I say?” cried Mrs. Ricketts, furious with passion.

      “He went to bed at nine,” whispered Martha. “He thought, by rising early to-morrow, to finish the attack on Utrecht before night.”

      “You are as great a fool as himself. Scroope, come here. You must follow that Russian. You must tell him the gross rudeness – ”

      “I’ll be ha-ha-hanged if I do. I ‘ve had enough of rows, for one winter at least. I ‘ll not get into another sc-scrape, if I can help it.”

      “I ‘m sorry, madam, that I cannot offer you my services,” said Haggerstone, “but I never meddle in a quarrel which can be made a subject of ridicule. Mr. Foglass, I ‘m certain, has no such scruple.”

      “The Prince appears a very agreeable man,” said the ex-Consul, who, not having the slightest notion of what was passing, merely followed his instincts of praising the person of high rank.

      “De shains of my enslaved country is on my hands. I ‘m tied like one galérien!” said Petrolaffsky, in a voice guttural with emotion.

      “Your pardon once more, madam,” said Morlache, slipping into the chamber, and noiselessly approaching Mrs. Ricketts’s chair. “The Prince will take everything, – pictures, plate, china, and books. I hope to-morrow, at noon, will not inconvenience you to leave this – ”

      “To-morrow! Impossible, sir. Perfectly impossible.”

      “In that case, madam, we must make some arrangement as to rent. His Highness leaves all to me, and I will endeavor to meet your wishes in every respect. Shall we say two thousand francs a month for the present?” Without waiting for any reply, he turned to the Pole, and whispered, “He ‘ll take you back again. He wants a chasseur, to send to St. Petersburg. Come over to me in the morning, about ten. Mr. Foglass,” cried he, in a loud voice, “when you write to London, will you mention that the varnish on the Prince’s drosky doesn’t stand the cold of Russia, and that they must try some other plan with the barouche? Your brother is an ingenious fellow, and he ‘ll hit upon something. Colonel Haggerstone, the Prince did n’t return your call. He says you will guess the reason when he says that he was in Palermo in a certain year you know of. I wish the honorable company good-night,” said he, bowing with a deference almost submissive, and backing out of the room as he spoke.

      And with him we also take our leave of them. They were like the chance passengers we meet on the road of a journey, with whom we converse when near, and forget when we separate from. Were we not more interested for the actors than the scenes on which they “strut their hour,” we might yet linger a few moments on the spot so bound up with our memory of Kate Dalton, – the terrace where she sat, the little orangery where she loitered of a morning, the window where she read, and dreamed of that bright future, so much nearer to her grasp than she knew of! There they were all! – destined to feel new influences and know other footsteps, for she had left them forever, and gone forth upon her “Path” in life.

      CHAPTER IV. A PACKAGE OF LETTERS

      It was a bright clear morning in May. A somewhat late spring had retarded vegetation, and the blossoming fruit-trees now added their gorgeous beauty to the warmer tints of coming summer. We are once more in Baden; but how different is it from what we saw it last. The frozen fountains now plash, and hiss, and sparkle in the sun. The trim alleys are flanked by the yellow crocus and the daffodil; the spray-like foliage of the ash is flecking the sunlight on the merry river, along whose banks the cheering sound of pleasant voices mingles with the carol of a thousand birds. The windows are open, and gay balconies are spreading, and orange-trees unfolding their sweetness to the breezy air. All is life and motion and joy, for the winter is past, and nothing remains of it save the snow-peaks on some distant mountains, and even they are glowing in brilliant contrast with the deep blue sky beyond them.

      Lovely as the valley is in summer or autumn, it is only in spring its perfect beauty appears. The sudden burst of vegetation – the rapid transition from the frost-bound durance of winter to the life and lightness of the young season, have a most exciting and exhilarating effect. This seemed conspicuous enough in the inhabitants as they chatted merrily in the streets, or met each other with pleasant greetings. It was the hour of the post arriving, and around the little window of the office were gathered the chief celebrities of the village, – the principal hotel-keepers, curious to learn what tidings their correspondents gave of the prospects of the coming summer. Everything appeared to smile on that happy moment, for as the various letters were opened, each had some good news to tell his neighbors, – now of some great English Lord, now of some Hungarian magnate or Russian Prince that was to make Baden his residence for the summer. “The Cour de Bade is all taken,” said one; “There will not be a room free in all the Adler;” “The Swan must refuse the Queen of Naples,” – such were the rumors that fell from lip to lip as in hearty congratulation they talked over their good fortune.

      One figure only of the assembled group seemed excepted from the general Joy. He was a large elderly man, who, in a patched and threadbare surtout, with a coarse scarlet muffler round his throat, appeared either distrustful of the mild season or unprovided with any change of costume to enjoy it. Seated on a stone bench in front of the window of the post-office, with an arm on each knee, and his head bent heavily forward, he never seemed to notice what went forward, nor hear one syllable of the joyous recognitions about him.

      The crowd at last dispersed, the happy recipients of good news were turning homewards, and only one or two still lingered around the spot, when the old man arose and approached the window. There was something almost of shame in the way he slouched his hat over his eyes as he drew nigh and knocked timidly at the closed pane.

      His summons was unheard, and yet for some time he did not repeat it, – perhaps he loved better to feed his hope even these short few moments than again fall back into the dark gloom of his despair! At last, and with a deep, hollow sigh, he tapped again.

      “Have СКАЧАТЬ