Belinda. Maria Edgeworth

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СКАЧАТЬ she went forward to meet Clarence Hervey, who really made his entrée with very composed assurance and grace. He managed his hoop with such skill and dexterity, that he well deserved the praise of being a universal genius. The Countess de Pomenars spoke French and broken English incomparably well, and she made out that she was descended from the Pomenars of the time of Mad. de Sevigné: she said that she had in her possession several original letters of Mad. de Sevigné, and a lock of Mad. de Grignan’s fine hair.

      “I have sometimes fancied, but I believe it is only my fancy,” said Lady Delacour, “that this young lady,” turning to Belinda, “is not unlike your Mad. de Grignan. I have seen a picture of her at Strawberry-hill.”

      Mad. de Pomenars acknowledged that there was a resemblance, but added, that it was flattery in the extreme to Mad. de Grignan to say so.

      “It would be a sin, undoubtedly, to waste flattery upon the dead, my dear countess,” said Lady Delacour; “but here, without flattery to the living, as you have a lock of Mad. de Grignan’s hair, you can tell us whether la belle chevelure, of which Mad. de Sevigné talked so much, was any thing to be compared to my Belinda’s.” As she spoke, Lady Delacour, before Belinda was aware of her intentions, dexterously let down her beautiful tresses; and the Countess de Pomenars was so much struck at the sight, that she was incapable of paying the necessary compliments. “Nay, touch it,” said Lady Delacour—“it is so fine and so soft.”

      At this dangerous moment her ladyship artfully let drop the comb. Clarence Hervey suddenly stooped to pick it up, totally forgetting his hoop and his character. He threw down the music-stand with his hoop. Lady Delacour exclaimed “Bravissima!” and burst out a-laughing. Lady Boucher, in amazement, looked from one to another for an explanation, and was a considerable time before, as she said, she could believe her own eyes. Clarence Hervey acknowledged he had lost his bet, joined in the laugh, and declared that fifty guineas was too little to pay for the sight of the finest hair that he had ever beheld. “I declare he deserves a lock of la belle chevelure for that speech, Miss Portman,” cried Lady Delacour; “I’ll appeal to all the world—Mad. de Pomenars must have a lock to measure with Mad. de Grignan’s? Come, a second rape of the lock, Belinda.”

      Fortunately for Belinda, “the glittering forfex” was not immediately produced, as fine ladies do not now, as in former times, carry any such useless implements about with them.

      Such was the modest, graceful dignity of Miss Portman’s manners, that she escaped without even the charge of prudery. She retired to her own apartment as soon as she could.

      “She passes on in unblenched majesty,” said Lady Delacour.

      “She is really a charming woman,” said Clarence Hervey, in a low voice, to Lady Delacour, drawing her into a recessed window: he in the same low voice continued, “Could I obtain a private audience of a few minutes when your ladyship is at leisure?—I have—” “I am never at leisure,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “but if you have any thing particular to say to me—as I guess you have, by my skill in human nature—come here to my concert to-night, before the rest of the world. Wait patiently in the music-room, and perhaps I may grant you a private audience, as you had the grace not to call it a tête-à -tête. In the mean time, my dear Countess de Pomenars, had we not better take off our hoops?” In the evening, Clarence Hervey was in the music-room a considerable time before Lady Delacour appeared: how patiently he waited is not known to any one but himself.

      “Have not I given you time to compose a charming speech?” said Lady Delacour as she entered the room; “but make it as short as you can, unless you wish that Miss Portman should hear it, for she will be down stairs in three minutes.”

      “In one word, then, my dear Lady Delacour, can you, and will you, make my peace with Miss Portman?—I am much concerned about that foolish razor-strop dialogue which she overheard at Lady Singleton’s.”

      “You are concerned that she overheard it, no doubt.”

      “No,” said Clarence Hervey, “I am rejoiced that she overheard it, since it has been the means of convincing me of my mistake; but I am concerned that I had the presumption and injustice to judge of Miss Portman so hastily. I am convinced that, though she is a niece of Mrs. Stanhope’s, she has dignity of mind and simplicity of character. Will you, my dear Lady Delacour, tell her so?”

      “Stay,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “let me get it by heart. I should have made a terrible bad messenger of the gods and goddesses, for I never in my life could, like Iris, repeat a message in the same words in which it was delivered to me. Let me see—‘Dignity of mind and simplicity of character,’ was not it? May not I say at once, ‘My dear Belinda, Clarence Hervey desires me to tell you that he is convinced you are an angel?’ That single word angel is so expressive, so comprehensive, so comprehensible, it contains, believe me, all that can be said or imagined on these occasions, de part et d’autre.”

      “But,” said Mr. Hervey, “perhaps Miss Portman has heard the song of—

      ‘What know we of angels?—

       I spake it in jest.’”

      “Then you are not in jest, but in downright sober earnest?—Ha!” said Lady Delacour, with an arch look, “I did not know it was already come to this with you.”

      And her ladyship, turning to her piano-forte, played—

      “There was a young man in Ballinacrasy,

       Who wanted a wife to make him unasy, And thus in gentle strains he spoke her, Arrah, will you marry me, my dear Ally Croker?”

      “No, no,” exclaimed Clarence, laughing, “it is not come to that with me yet, Lady Delacour, I promise you; but is not it possible to say that a young lady has dignity of mind and simplicity of character without having or suggesting any thoughts of marriage?”

      “You make a most proper, but not sufficiently emphatic difference between having or suggesting such thoughts,” said Lady Delacour. “A gentleman sometimes finds it for his interest, his honour, or his pleasure, to suggest what he would not for the world promise,—I mean perform.”

      “A scoundrel,” cried Clarence Hervey, “not a gentleman, may find it for his honour, or his interest, or his pleasure, to promise what he would not perform; but I am not a scoundrel. I never made any promise to man or woman that I did not keep faithfully. I am not a swindler in love.”

      “And yet,” said Lady Delacour, “you would have no scruple to trifle or flatter a woman out of her heart.”

      “Cela est selon!” said Clarence smiling; “a fair exchange, you know, is no robbery. When a fine woman robs me of my heart, surely Lady Delacour could not expect that I should make no attempt upon hers.”—“Is this part of my message to Miss Portman?” said Lady Delacour. “As your ladyship pleases,” said Clarence; “I trust entirely to your discretion.”

      “Why I really have a great deal of discretion,” said Lady Delacour; “but you trust too much to it when you expect that I should execute, both with propriety and success, the delicate commission of telling a young lady, who is under my protection, that a young gentleman, who is a professed admirer of mine, is in love with her, but has no thoughts, and wishes to suggest no thoughts, of marriage.”

      “In love!” exclaimed Clarence Hervey; “but when did I ever use the expression? In speaking of Miss Portman, I simply expressed esteem and ad————”

      “No СКАЧАТЬ