Luttrell Of Arran. Lever Charles James
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Название: Luttrell Of Arran

Автор: Lever Charles James

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Зарубежная классика

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СКАЧАТЬ beautiful it all is!”

      “Curious enough, the figures are really good. Some worthy ancestor of mine had purchased this group at Urbino from some ruined Italian mansion; and, as a work of art, it is almost equal to a Luca della Robb. The mistake is the era. It is not suited to this old dungeon. Here we are in the tenth century, and this group is cinque cento. Let me send it to the cottage. It would be perfect in your garden.”

      “Not for worlds. I couldn’t think of it!”

      “Don’t think of it, but say ‘Yes.’ Remember, that in villa ornamentation nothing comes amiss; there are no incongruities.”

      “It is impossible, Sir Within – quite impossible.”

      “Don’t imagine we have come here as brigands,” said Miss Courtenay, smiling.

      “When you carry away my heart, what matters what is left me?” said he, sighing.

      Miss Courtenay looked down – it was a bashful look, but not a displeased one – and, somehow, more conscious than the compliment of so old a gentleman might seem to warrant.

      “And so Sir Gervais likes Ireland?” said he, as he introduced them into the drawing-room.

      “So much so, that I fear he has made a purchase of some property there.”

      “That is only a mistake when one feels that he must live on the spot he owns. Some witty Frenchman says: ‘I used to fancy that I owned my furniture, but I found that it owned me. I was the bondsman of an old arm-chair, and the actual slave of a chest of drawers!’ You laugh, ladies, but just see whether this old house or I be the master here.”

      “Well, it’s not a very severe bondage after all,” said Georgina, smiling.

      “How pleasantly one discusses another’s captivity! By the way, when are you all to come and pay me this long-promised visit? Remember, the longer you defer payment, the larger grows the debt; your week is now a month.”

      “When Sir Gervais comes home, we shall be delighted.”

      “Why not be here when he arrives? How much pleasanter he’d find the house where your presence had imparted that charm that comes of female influence. You cannot guess how this old room, that I thought so dreary a while ago, looks positively beautiful now. Yes, Bernais, bring it in.” This was said to the servant, who, after appearing at the door, made a hasty retreat. “It is the menu of our dinner, ladies, and my cook, M. Piquard, wishes to acquit himself with distinction. See, here is a query. ‘Is the pheasant to be “aux huitres,” or aux pointes d’asperges?’ Decide.”

      “I should say with the asparagus,” said Miss Courtenay.

      “And your judgment is correct; the other is a mere compromise to a supposed English taste. A summer day’s dinner is to the full banquet of mid-winter what a light ‘aquarelle’ is to an oil picture. You want grace, delicacy; you require elegance, transparency, softness; not depth, nor force, nor strong effect.”

      “What Sybarites you must deem us!” said Lady Vyner, laughing.

      “I am repeating for you to-day a little dinner I once gave the Duchesse de Sagance. She was much admired at the time by the Archduke Charles of Austria; but forgive me if I am talking of forbidden themes.”

      “Oh, go on, Sir Within! We must implicitly bow to your discretion.”

      “Ah, if you do that, I am ruined. You silence me at once!”

      “You surely wouldn’t have us say, ‘Be indiscreet?’”

      “No; but I’d have you say, ‘Talk to us as if we were all at Vienna, at Milan, or at Naples.’”

      “Neither my sister nor myself ‘pose’ for prudery, Sir Within; but the world says that you are – what shall I call it? – too – too – do help me to the word.”

      “How can I, when it is to my own blame? Who ever called on a prisoner to fill up his own indictment?”

      “What the world means is, perhaps,” broke in Georgina, “that Sir Within occasionally forgets his geography, and fancies at the foot of Snowdon that he is close to Vesuvius.”

      “I apprehend you,” said he, smiling; “but confess, that dress is not more a question of climate than conversation; both one and the other are lighter in the south of Europe, and what is of more moment, with perfect safety, too; mark that, Mesdames, with perfect safety.”

      “It may be all very well for you, who are acclimatised, to say so,” said Lady Vyner; “but bear in mind that we only passed one winter at Rome.”

      “And did you not like it? What a furious cataract of all manner of sensations is a first winter at Rome! Grandeur and littleness, Sublimity and absurdity – the splendid St. Peter’s and the slipshod priesthood – and, more ridiculous than all, our cockney population wandering over the Coliseum and Quirinal, not fully certain that they are getting the real article for their money, or whether Nero and Tiberius are not dear at the price paid for them. I often wish it were right for an ex-Envoy to give his note-book, or some extracts from it, to the world. Impressions of the B. S. – the British Subject, I mean – by a late Foreign Minister.”

      “Very amusing, doubtless; but very spiteful,” said Miss Courtenay.

      “Here comes Bernais to announce dinner, and rescue you from my tartness;” and, giving an arm to each of the ladies, he led them forward.

      Valued reader, is it amongst the number of your experiences to have “assisted” at a dinner – usually a Russian one – where, without having found anything pre-eminently good to eat, you are given to understand that all cost fabulous sums – that the fricassee you scarcely tasted was brought from the frontier of China, and the fish, that seemed flavourless, came by estafette from the Caspian? Such, in a certain way, was Sir Within’s conversation; it sparkled with great people – Kings glittered, and Queens bespangled it; it was evidently a dear article to have acquired, but, beyond that, it possessed little value. Yet, “for all that, and all that,” his guests liked it. To be sure, it was admirably aided; his “little dinner,” as he modestly styled it, was a banquet, not in ponderous detail or duration, but in the perfect selection and the exquisite delicacy of all that composed it.

      And did he not relish the success he achieved – the double success of his cook and of himself! If there be a time when egotism is less odious than at others, it is when a host expatiates on the pains he has taken to feed you. The little selfish vaingloriousness of the moment is so readily pardoned, while the truffle is on your fork, or the ruby claret half way to your lips.

      It was towards the close of the dinner that Sir Within, adroitly turning the topic from the meats to the guests, was discussing, with some knowledge of the subject, the people who made the pleasantest dinner company, and showing how an accomplished host makes the light talkers do duty at the first course, using them as mere skirmishers, who are to fall back and be ignored as the great engagement comes on. “I flatter myself,” said he, “that I can manage most classes of men, though I own there is one that totally defies me – that is to say, he is so obstinately self-willed, and so professionally trained to persistence, that he deems it a triumph. I mean your lawyer!”

      “Oh, Laura! what have I done!” exclaimed Georgina, laying her hand on her sister’s arm, and staring half wildly at her.

      “What is it? What СКАЧАТЬ