English
June19th.—IhadonlygotasfarasthetopofthestairswhenthelockingofLaura’sdoorsuggestedtometheprecautionofalsolockingmyowndoor,andkeepingthekeysafelyaboutmewhileIwasoutoftheroom.
Myjournalwasalreadysecuredwithotherpapersinthetabledrawer,butmywritingmaterialswereleftout.
Theseincludedasealbearingthecommondeviceoftwodovesdrinkingoutofthesamecup,andsomesheetsofblotting-paper,whichhadtheimpressiononthemoftheclosinglinesofmywritinginthesepagestracedduringthepastnight.
Distortedbythesuspicionwhichhadnowbecomeapartofmyself,evensuchtriflesastheselookedtoodangeroustobetrustedwithoutaguard—eventhelockedtabledrawerseemedtobenotsufficientlyprotectedinmyabsenceuntilthemeansofaccesstoithadbeencarefullysecuredaswell.
IfoundnoappearanceofanyonehavingenteredtheroomwhileIhadbeentalkingwithLaura.
Mywritingmaterials(whichIhadgiventheservantinstructionsnevertomeddlewith)werescatteredoverthetablemuchasusual.
Theonlycircumstanceinconnectionwiththemthatatallstruckmewasthattheseallaytidilyinthetraywiththepencilsandthewax.
Itwasnotinmycarelesshabits(Iamsorrytosay)toputitthere,neitherdidIrememberputtingitthere.
ButasIcouldnotcalltomind,ontheotherhand,whereelseIhadthrownitdown,andasIwasalsodoubtfulwhetherImightnotforoncehavelaiditmechanicallyintherightplace,Iabstainedfromaddingtotheperplexitywithwhichtheday’seventshadfilledmymindbytroublingitafreshaboutatrifle.
Ilockedthedoor,putthekeyinmypocket,andwentdownstairs.
MadameFoscowasaloneinthehalllookingattheweather-glass.
“Stillfalling,”shesaid.“Iamafraidwemustexpectmorerain.”
Herfacewascomposedagaintoitscustomaryexpressionanditscustomarycolour.Butthehandwithwhichshepointedtothedialoftheweather-glassstilltrembled.
CouldshehavetoldherhusbandalreadythatshehadoverheardLaurarevilinghim,inmycompany,asa“spy?”
Mystrongsuspicionthatshemusthavetoldhim,myirresistibledread(allthemoreoverpoweringfromitsveryvagueness)oftheconsequenceswhichmightfollow,myfixedconviction,derivedfromvariouslittleself-betrayalswhichwomennoticeineachother,thatMadameFosco,inspiteofherwell-assumedexternalcivility,hadnotforgivenhernieceforinnocentlystandingbetweenherandthelegacyoftenthousandpounds—allrusheduponmymindtogether,allimpelledmetospeakinthevainhopeofusingmyowninfluenceandmyownpowersofpersuasionfortheatonementofLaura’soffence.
“MayItrusttoyourkindnesstoexcuseme,MadameFosco,ifIventuretospeaktoyouonanexceedinglypainfulsubject?”
Shecrossedherhandsinfrontofherandbowedherheadsolemnly,withoututteringaword,andwithouttakinghereyesoffmineforamoment.
“Whenyouweresogoodastobringmebackmyhandkerchief,”Iwenton,“Iamvery,verymuchafraidyoumusthaveaccidentallyheardLaurasaysomethingwhichIamunwillingtorepeat,andwhichIwillnotattempttodefend.
IwillonlyventuretohopethatyouhavenotthoughtitofsufficientimportancetobementionedtotheCount?”
“Ithinkitofnoimportancewhatever,”saidMadameFoscosharplyandsuddenly.
“But,”sheadded,resuminghericymannerinamoment,“Ihavenosecretsfrommyhusbandevenintrifles.
WhenhenoticedjustnowthatIlookeddistressed,itwasmypainfuldutytotellhimwhyIwasdistressed,andIfranklyacknowledgetoyou,MissHalcombe,thatIHAVEtoldhim.”
Iwaspreparedtohearit,andyetsheturnedmecoldalloverwhenshesaidthosewords.
“Letmeearnestlyentreatyou,MadameFosco—letmeearnestlyentreattheCount—tomakesomeallowancesforthesadpositioninwhichmysisterisplaced.
Shespokewhileshewassmartingundertheinsultandinjusticeinflictedonherbyherhusband,andshewasnotherselfwhenshesaidthoserashwords.
MayIhopethattheywillbeconsideratelyandgenerouslyforgiven?”
“Mostassuredly,”saidtheCount’squietvoicebehindme.Hehadstolenonuswithhisnoiselesstreadandhisbookinhishandfromthelibrary.
“WhenLadyGlydesaidthosehastywords,”hewenton,“shedidmeaninjusticewhichIlament—andforgive.
Letusneverreturntothesubject,MissHalcombe;letusallcomfortablycombinetoforgetitfromthismoment.”
“Youareverykind,”Isaid,“yourelievemeinexpressibly”
Itriedtocontinue,buthiseyeswereonme;hisdeadlysmilethathideseverythingwasset,hard,andunwaveringonhisbroad,smoothface.
Mydistrustofhisunfathomablefalseness,mysenseofmyowndegradationinstoopingtoconciliatehiswifeandhimself,sodisturbedandconfusedme,thatthenextwordsfailedonmylips,andIstoodthereinsilence.
“Ibegyouonmykneestosaynomore,MissHalcombe—Iamtrulyshockedthatyoushouldhavethoughtitnecessarytosaysomuch.”
Withthatpolitespeechhetookmyhand—oh,howIdespisemyself!
oh,howlittlecomfortthereiseveninknowingthatIsubmittedtoitforLaura’ssake!
—hetookmyhandandputittohispoisonouslips.
NeverdidIknowallmyhorrorofhimtillthen.
Thatinnocentfamiliarityturnedmybloodasifithadbeenthevilestinsultthatamancouldofferme.
YetIhidmydisgustfromhim—Itriedtosmile—I,whooncemercilesslydespiseddeceitinotherwomen,wasasfalseastheworstofthem,asfalseastheJudaswhoselipshadtouchedmyhand.
Icouldnothavemaintainedmydegradingself-control—itisallthatredeemsmeinmyownestimationtoknowthatIcouldnot—ifhehadstillcontinuedtokeephiseyesonmyface.
Hiswife’stigerishjealousycametomyrescueandforcedhisattentionawayfrommethemomenthepossessedhimselfofmyhand.
Hercoldblueeyescaughtlight,herdullwhitecheeksflushedintobrightcolour,shelookedyearsyoungerthanherageinaninstant.
“Count!”shesaid.“YourforeignformsofpolitenessarenotunderstoodbyEnglishwomen.”
“Pardonme,myangel!ThebestanddearestEnglishwomanintheworldunderstandsthem.”Withthosewordshedroppedmyhandandquietlyraisedhiswife’shandtohislipsinplaceofit.
Iranbackupthestairstotakerefugeinmyownroom.
Iftherehadbeentimetothink,mythoughts,whenIwasaloneagain,wouldhavecausedmebittersuffering.Buttherewasnotimetothink.
Happilyforthepreservationofmycalmnessandmycouragetherewastimefornothingbutaction.
TheletterstothelawyerandtoMr.Fairliewerestilltobewritten,andIsatdownatoncewithoutamoment’shesitationtodevotemyselftothem.
Therewasnomultitudeofresourcestoperplexme—therewasabsolutelynoonetodependon,inthefirstinstance,butmyself.
SirPercivalhadneitherfriendsnorrelativesintheneighbourhoodwhoseintercessionIcouldattempttoemploy.
Hewasonthecoldestterms—insomecasesontheworsttermswiththefamiliesofhisownrankandstationwholivednearhim.
Wetwowomenhadneitherfathernorbrothertocometothehouseandtakeourparts.
Therewasnochoicebuttowritethosetwodoubtfulletters,ortoputLaurainthewrongandmyselfinthewrong,andtomakeallpeaceablenegotiationinthefutureimpossiblebysecretlyescapingfromBlackwaterPark.
Nothingbutthemostimminentpersonalperilcouldjustifyourtakingthatsecondcourse.
Thelettersmustbetriedfirst,andIwrotethem.
IsaidnothingtothelawyeraboutAnneCatherick,because(asIhadalreadyhintedtoLaura)thattopicwasconnectedwithamysterywhichwecouldnotyetexplain,andwhichitwouldthereforebeuselesstowriteabouttoaprofessionalman.
IleftmycorrespondenttoattributeSirPercival’sdisgracefulconduct,ifhepleased,tofreshdisputesaboutmoneymatters,andsimplyconsultedhimonthepossibilityoftakinglegalproceedingsforLaura’sprotectionintheeventofherhusband’srefusaltoallowhertoleaveBlackwaterParkforatimeandreturnwithmetoLimmeridge.
IreferredhimtoMr.Fairlieforthedetailsofthislastarrangement—IassuredhimthatIwrotewithLaura’sauthority—andIendedbyentreatinghimtoactinhernametotheutmostextentofhispowerandwiththeleastpossiblelossoftime.
ThelettertoMr.Fairlieoccupiedmenext.
IappealedtohimonthetermswhichIhadmentionedtoLauraasthemostlikelytomakehimbestirhimself;Ienclosedacopyofmylettertothelawyertoshowhimhowseriousthecasewas,andIrepresentedourremovaltoLimmeridgeastheonlycompromisewhichwouldpreventthedangeranddistressofLaura’spresentpositionfrominevitablyaffectingheruncleaswellasherselfatnoverydistanttime.
WhenIhaddone,andhadsealedanddirectedthetwoenvelopes,IwentbackwiththeletterstoLaura’sroom,toshowherthattheywerewritten.
“Hasanybodydisturbedyou?”Iasked,whensheopenedthedoortome.
“Nobodyhasknocked,”shereplied.“ButIheardsomeoneintheouterroom.”
“Wasitamanorawoman?”
“Awoman.Iheardtherustlingofhergown.”
“Arustlinglikesilk?”
“Yes,likesilk.”
MadameFoscohadevidentlybeenwatchingoutside.
Themischiefshemightdobyherselfwaslittletobefeared.
Butthemischiefshemightdo,asawillinginstrumentinherhusband’shands,wastooformidabletobeoverlooked.
“Whatbecameoftherustlingofthegownwhenyounolongerhearditintheante-room?”Iinquired.“Didyouhearitgopastyourwall,alongthepassage?”
“Yes.Ikeptstillandlistened,andjustheardit.”
“Whichwaydiditgo?”
“Towardsyourroom.”
Iconsideredagain.Thesoundhadnotcaughtmyears.
ButIwasthendeeplyabsorbedinmyletters,andIwritewithaheavyhandandaquillpen,scrapingandscratchingnoisilyoverthepaper.
ItwasmorelikelythatMadameFoscowouldhearthescrapingofmypenthanthatIshouldheartherustlingofherdress.
Anotherreason(ifIhadwantedone)fornottrustingmyletterstothepost-baginthehall.
Laurasawmethinking.“Moredifficulties!”shesaidwearily;“moredifficultiesandmoredangers!”
“Nodangers,”Ireplied.“Somelittledifficulty,perhaps.IamthinkingofthesafestwayofputtingmytwolettersintoFanny’shands.”
“Youhavereallywrittenthem,then?Oh,Marian,runnorisks—pray,prayrunnorisks!”
“No,no—nofear.Letmesee—whato’clockisitnow?”
Itwasaquartertosix.Therewouldbetimeformetogettothevillageinn,andtocomebackagainbeforedinner.
IfIwaitedtilltheeveningImightfindnosecondopportunityofsafelyleavingthehouse.
“Keepthekeyturnedinthelock.Laura,”Isaid,“anddon’tbeafraidaboutme.Ifyouhearanyinquiriesmade,callthroughthedoor,andsaythatIamgoneoutforawalk.”
“Whenshallyoubeback?”
“Beforedinner,withoutfail.Courage,mylove.
Bythistimeto-morrowyouwillhaveaclear-headed,trustworthymanactingforyourgood.
Mr.Gilmore’spartnerisournextbestfriendtoMr.Gilmorehimself.”
Amoment’sreflection,assoonasIwasalone,convincedmethatIhadbetternotappearinmywalking-dressuntilIhadfirstdiscoveredwhatwasgoingoninthelowerpartofthehouse.
IhadnotascertainedyetwhetherSirPercivalwasindoorsorout.
Thesingingofthecanariesinthelibrary,andthesmelloftobacco-smokethatcamethroughthedoor,whichwasnotclosed,toldmeatoncewheretheCountwas.
IlookedovermyshoulderasIpassedthedoorway,andsawtomysurprisethathewasexhibitingthedocilityofthebirdsinhismostengaginglypolitemannertothehousekeeper.
Hemusthavespeciallyinvitedhertoseethem—forshewouldneverhavethoughtofgoingintothelibraryofherownaccord.
Theman’sslightestactionshadapurposeofsomekindatthebottomofeveryoneofthem.Whatcouldbehispurposehere?
Itwasnotimethentoinquireintohismotives.IlookedaboutforMadameFosconext,andfoundherfollowingherfavouritecircleroundandroundthefish-pond.
Iwasalittledoubtfulhowshewouldmeetme,aftertheoutbreakofjealousyofwhichIhadbeenthecausesoshortatimesince.
Butherhusbandhadtamedherintheinterval,andshenowspoketomewiththesamecivilityasusual.
MyonlyobjectinaddressingmyselftoherwastoascertainifsheknewwhathadbecomeofSirPercival.
Icontrivedtorefertohimindirectly,andafteralittlefencingoneithersidesheatlastmentionedthathehadgoneout.
“Whichofthehorseshashetaken?”Iaskedcarelessly.
“Noneofthem,”shereplied.“Hewentawaytwohourssinceonfoot.
AsIunderstoodit,hisobjectwastomakefreshinquiriesaboutthewomannamedAnneCatherick.
Heappearstobeunreasonablyanxiousabouttracingher.
Doyouhappentoknowifsheisdangerouslymad,MissHalcombe?”
“Idonot,Countess.”
“Areyougoingin?”
“Yes,Ithinkso.Isupposeitwillsoonbetimetodressfordinner.”
Weenteredthehousetogether.MadameFoscostrolledintothelibrary,andclosedthedoor.
Iwentatoncetofetchmyhatandshawl.
Everymomentwasofimportance,ifIwastogettoFannyattheinnandbebackbeforedinner.
WhenIcrossedthehallagainnoonewasthere,andthesingingofthebirdsinthelibraryhadceased.
Icouldnotstoptomakeanyfreshinvestigations.
Icouldonlyassuremyselfthatthewaywasclear,andthenleavethehousewiththetwoletterssafeinmypocket.
OnmywaytothevillageIpreparedmyselfforthepossibilityofmeetingSirPercival.
AslongasIhadhimtodealwithaloneIfeltcertainofnotlosingmypresenceofmind.
Anywomanwhoissureofherownwitsisamatchatanytimeforamanwhoisnotsureofhisowntemper.
IhadnosuchfearofSirPercivalasIhadoftheCount.
Insteadoffluttering,ithadcomposedme,tohearoftheerrandonwhichhehadgoneout.
WhilethetracingofAnneCatherickwasthegreatanxietythatoccupiedhim,LauraandImighthopeforsomecessationofanyactivepersecutionathishands.
Foroursakesnow,aswellasforAnne’s,Ihopedandprayedferventlythatshemightstillescapehim.
IwalkedonasbrisklyastheheatwouldletmetillIreachedthecross-roadwhichledtothevillage,lookingbackfromtimetotimetomakesurethatIwasnotfollowedbyanyone.
Nothingwasbehindmeallthewaybutanemptycountrywaggon.
Thenoisemadebythelumberingwheelsannoyedme,andwhenIfoundthatthewaggontooktheroadtothevillage,aswellasmyself,Istoppedtoletitgobyandpassoutofhearing.
AsIlookedtowardit,moreattentivelythanbefore,IthoughtIdetectedatintervalsthefeetofamanwalkingclosebehindit,thecarterbeinginfront,bythesideofhishorses.
Thepartofthecross-roadwhichIhadjustpassedoverwassonarrowthatthewaggoncomingaftermebrushedthetreesandthicketsoneitherside,andIhadtowaituntilitwentbybeforeIcouldtestthecorrectnessofmyimpression.
Apparentlythatimpressionwaswrong,forwhenthewaggonhadpassedmetheroadbehinditwasquiteclear.
IreachedtheinnwithoutmeetingSirPercival,andwithoutnoticinganythingmore,andwasgladtofindthatthelandladyhadreceivedFannywithallpossiblekindness.
Thegirlhadalittleparlourtositin,awayfromthenoiseofthetaproom,andacleanbedchamberatthetopofthehouse.
Shebegancryingagainatthesightofme,andsaid,poorsoul,trulyenough,thatitwasdreadfultofeelherselfturnedoutintotheworldasifshehadcommittedsomeunpardonablefault,whennoblamecouldbelaidatherdoorbyanybody—notevenbyhermaster,whohadsentheraway.
“Trytomakethebestofit,Fanny,”Isaid.
“YourmistressandIwillstandyourfriends,andwilltakecarethatyourcharactershallnotsuffer.Now,listentome.
Ihaveverylittletimetospare,andIamgoingtoputagreattrustinyourhands.
Iwishyoutotakecareofthesetwoletters.
TheonewiththestamponityouaretoputintothepostwhenyoureachLondonto-morrow.
Theother,directedtoMr.Fairlie,youaretodelivertohimyourselfassoonasyougethome.
Keepboththelettersaboutyouandgivethemuptonoone.
Theyareofthelastimportancetoyourmistress’sinterests.”
Fannyputthelettersintothebosomofherdress.“Theretheyshallstop,miss,”shesaid,“tillIhavedonewhatyoutellme.”
“Mindyouareatthestationingoodtimeto-morrowmorning,”Icontinued.
“AndwhenyouseethehousekeeperatLimmeridgegivehermycompliments,andsaythatyouareinmyserviceuntilLadyGlydeisabletotakeyouback.
Wemaymeetagainsoonerthanyouthink.
Sokeepagoodheart,anddon’tmisstheseveno’clocktrain.”
“Thankyou,miss—thankyoukindly.Itgivesonecouragetohearyourvoiceagain.
Pleasetooffermydutytomylady,andsayIleftallthethingsastidyasIcouldinthetime.Oh,dear!dear!whowilldressherfordinnerto-day?
Itreallybreaksmyheart,miss,tothinkofit.”
WhenIgotbacktothehouseIhadonlyaquarterofanhourtosparetoputmyselfinorderfordinner,andtosaytwowordstoLaurabeforeIwentdownstairs.
“ThelettersareinFanny’shands,”Iwhisperedtoheratthedoor.“Doyoumeantojoinusatdinner?”
“Oh,no,no—notfortheworld.”
“Hasanythinghappened?Hasanyonedisturbedyou?”
“Yes—justnow—SirPercival——”
“Didhecomein?”
“No,hefrightenedmebyathumponthedooroutside.Isaid,‘Who’sthere?’‘Youknow,’heanswered.
‘Willyoualteryourmind,andtellmetherest?Youshall!
SoonerorlaterI’llwringitoutofyou.
YouknowwhereAnneCatherickisatthismoment.’‘Indeed,indeed,’Isaid,‘Idon’t.’‘Youdo!’hecalledback.‘I’llcrushyourobstinacy—mindthat!—I’llwringitoutofyou!’
Hewentawaywiththosewords—wentaway,Marian,hardlyfiveminutesago.”
HehadnotfoundAnne!Weweresafeforthatnight—hehadnotfoundheryet.
“Youaregoingdownstairs,Marian?Comeupagainintheevening.”
“Yes,yes.Don’tbeuneasyifIamalittlelate—Imustbecarefulnottogiveoffencebyleavingthemtoosoon.”
Thedinner-bellrangandIhastenedaway.
SirPercivaltookMadameFoscointothedining-room,andtheCountgavemehisarm.
Hewashotandflushed,andwasnotdressedwithhiscustomarycareandcompleteness.
Hadhe,too,beenoutbeforedinner,andbeenlateingettingback?
orwasheonlysufferingfromtheheatalittlemoreseverelythanusual?
Howeverthismightbe,hewasunquestionablytroubledbysomesecretannoyanceoranxiety,which,withallhispowersofdeception,hewasnotableentirelytoconceal.
ThroughthewholeofdinnerhewasalmostassilentasSirPercivalhimself,andhe,everynowandthen,lookedathiswifewithanexpressionoffurtiveuneasinesswhichwasquitenewinmyexperienceofhim.
Theonesocialobligationwhichheseemedtobeself-possessedenoughtoperformascarefullyaseverwastheobligationofbeingpersistentlycivilandattentivetome.
WhatvileobjecthehasinviewIcannotstilldiscover,butbethedesignwhatitmay,invariablepolitenesstowardsmyself,invariablehumilitytowardsLaura,andinvariablesuppression(atanycost)ofSirPercival’sclumsyviolence,havebeenthemeanshehasresolutelyandimpenetrablyusedtogettohisendeversincehesetfootinthishouse.
Isuspecteditwhenhefirstinterferedinourfavour,onthedaywhenthedeedwasproducedinthelibrary,andIfeelcertainofitnow.
WhenMadameFoscoandIrosetoleavethetable,theCountrosealsotoaccompanyusbacktothedrawing-room.
“Whatareyougoingawayfor?”askedSirPercival—“ImeanYOU,Fosco.”
“IamgoingawaybecauseIhavehaddinnerenough,andwineenough,”answeredtheCount.
“Besokind,Percival,astomakeallowancesformyforeignhabitofgoingoutwiththeladies,aswellascominginwiththem.”
“Nonsense!Anotherglassofclaretwon’thurtyou.SitdownagainlikeanEnglishman.Iwanthalfanhour’squiettalkwithyouoverourwine.”
“Aquiettalk,Percival,withallmyheart,butnotnow,andnotoverthewine.Laterintheevening,ifyouplease—laterintheevening.”
“Civil!”saidSirPercivalsavagely.“Civilbehaviour,uponmysoul,toamaninhisownhouse!”
IhadmorethanonceseenhimlookattheCountuneasilyduringdinner-time,andhadobservedthattheCountcarefullyabstainedfromlookingathiminreturn.
Thiscircumstance,coupledwiththehost’sanxietyforalittlequiettalkoverthewine,andtheguest’sobstinateresolutionnottositdownagainatthetable,revivedinmymemorytherequestwhichSirPercivalhadvainlyaddressedtohisfriendearlierinthedaytocomeoutofthelibraryandspeaktohim.
TheCounthaddeferredgrantingthatprivateinterview,whenitwasfirstaskedforintheafternoon,andhadagaindeferredgrantingit,whenitwasasecondtimeaskedforatthedinner-table.
Whateverthecomingsubjectofdiscussionbetweenthemmightbe,itwasclearlyanimportantsubjectinSirPercival’sestimation—andperhaps(judgingfromhisevidentreluctancetoapproachit)adangeroussubjectaswell,intheestimationoftheCount.
Theseconsiderationsoccurredtomewhilewewerepassingfromthedining-roomtothedrawing-room.
SirPercival’sangrycommentaryonhisfriend’sdesertionofhimhadnotproducedtheslightesteffect.
TheCountobstinatelyaccompaniedustothetea-table—waitedaminuteortwointheroom—wentoutintothehall—andreturnedwiththepost-baginhishands.
Itwastheneighto’clock—thehouratwhichtheletterswerealwaysdespatchedfromBlackwaterPark.
“Haveyouanyletterforthepost,MissHalcombe?”heasked,approachingmewiththebag.
IsawMadameFosco,whowasmakingthetea,pause,withthesugar-tongsinherhand,tolistenformyanswer.
“No,Count,thankyou.Nolettersto-day.”
Hegavethebagtotheservant,whowasthenintheroom;satdownatthepiano,andplayedtheairofthelivelyNeapolitanstreet-song,“LamiaCarolina,”twiceover.
Hiswife,whowasusuallythemostdeliberateofwomeninallhermovements,madetheteaasquicklyasIcouldhavemadeitmyself—finishedherowncupintwominutes,andquietlyglidedoutoftheroom.
Irosetofollowherexample—partlybecauseIsuspectedherofattemptingsometreacheryupstairswithLaura,partlybecauseIwasresolvednottoremainaloneinthesameroomwithherhusband.
BeforeIcouldgettothedoortheCountstoppedme,byarequestforacupoftea.
Igavehimthecupoftea,andtriedasecondtimetogetaway.
Hestoppedmeagain—thistimebygoingbacktothepiano,andsuddenlyappealingtomeonamusicalquestioninwhichhedeclaredthatthehonourofhiscountrywasconcerned.
Ivainlypleadedmyowntotalignoranceofmusic,andtotalwantoftasteinthatdirection.
Heonlyappealedtomeagainwithavehemencewhichsetallfurtherprotestonmypartatdefiance.
“TheEnglishandtheGermans(heindignantlydeclared)werealwaysrevilingtheItaliansfortheirinabilitytocultivatethehigherkindsofmusic.
WewereperpetuallytalkingofourOratorios,andtheywereperpetuallytalkingoftheirSymphonies.
Didweforgetanddidtheyforgethisimmortalfriendandcountryman,Rossini?
WhatwasMosesinEgyptbutasublimeoratorio,whichwasactedonthestageinsteadofbeingcoldlysunginaconcert-room?
WhatwastheoverturetoGuillaumeTellbutasymphonyunderanothername?HadIheardMosesinEgypt?
WouldIlistentothis,andthis,andthis,andsayifanythingmoresublimelysacredandgrandhadeverbeencomposedbymortalman?”
—Andwithoutwaitingforawordofassentordissentonmypart,lookingmehardinthefaceallthetime,hebeganthunderingonthepiano,andsingingtoitwithloudandloftyenthusiasm—onlyinterruptinghimself,atintervals,toannouncetomefiercelythetitlesofthedifferentpiecesofmusic:“ChorusofEgyptiansinthePlagueofDarkness,MissHalcombe!”
—“RecitativoofMoseswiththetablesoftheLaw.”
—“PrayerofIsraelites,atthepassageoftheRedSea.Aha!Aha!Isthatsacred?isthatsublime?”
Thepianotrembledunderhispowerfulhands,andtheteacupsonthetablerattled,ashisbigbassvoicethunderedoutthenotes,andhisheavyfootbeattimeonthefloor.
Therewassomethinghorrible—somethingfierceanddevilish—intheoutburstofhisdelightathisownsingingandplaying,andinthetriumphwithwhichhewatcheditseffectuponmeasIshranknearerandnearertothedoor.
Iwasreleasedatlast,notbymyownefforts,butbySirPercival’sinterposition.
Heopenedthedining-roomdoor,andcalledoutangrilytoknowwhat“thatinfernalnoise”meant.
TheCountinstantlygotupfromthepiano.“Ah!
ifPercivaliscoming,”hesaid,“harmonyandmelodyarebothatanend.
TheMuseofMusic,MissHalcombe,desertsusindismay,andI,thefatoldminstrel,exhaletherestofmyenthusiasmintheopenair!”
Hestalkedoutintotheverandah,puthishandsinhispockets,andresumedtheRecitativoofMoses,sottovoce,inthegarden.
IheardSirPercivalcallafterhimfromthedining-roomwindow.
Buthetooknonotice—heseemeddeterminednottohear.
Thatlong-deferredquiettalkbetweenthemwasstilltobeputoff,wasstilltowaitfortheCount’sabsolutewillandpleasure.
Hehaddetainedmeinthedrawing-roomnearlyhalfanhourfromthetimewhenhiswifeleftus.Wherehadshebeen,andwhathadshebeendoinginthatinterval?
Iwentupstairstoascertain,butImadenodiscoveries,andwhenIquestionedLaura,Ifoundthatshehadnotheardanything.
Nobodyhaddisturbedher,nofaintrustlingofthesilkdresshadbeenaudible,eitherintheante-roomorinthepassage.
Itwasthentwentyminutestonine.Aftergoingtomyroomtogetmyjournal,Ireturned,andsatwithLaura,sometimeswriting,sometimesstoppingtotalkwithher.
Nobodycamenearus,andnothinghappened.Weremainedtogethertillteno’clock.
Ithenrose,saidmylastcheeringwords,andwishedhergood-night.
ShelockedherdooragainafterwehadarrangedthatIshouldcomeinandseeherthefirstthinginthemorning.
Ihadafewsentencesmoretoaddtomydiarybeforegoingtobedmyself,andasIwentdownagaintothedrawing-roomafterleavingLauraforthelasttimethatwearyday,Iresolvedmerelytoshowmyselfthere,tomakemyexcuses,andthentoretireanhourearlierthanusualforthenight.
SirPercival,andtheCountandhiswife,weresittingtogether.
SirPercivalwasyawninginaneasy-chair,theCountwasreading,MadameFoscowasfanningherself.
Strangetosay,HERfacewasflushednow.
She,whoneversufferedfromtheheat,wasmostundoubtedlysufferingfromitto-night.
“Iamafraid,Countess,youarenotquitesowellasusual?”Isaid.
“TheveryremarkIwasabouttomaketoyou,”shereplied.“Youarelookingpale,mydear.”
Mydear!Itwasthefirsttimeshehadeveraddressedmewiththatfamiliarity!Therewasaninsolentsmiletooonherfacewhenshesaidthewords.
“Iamsufferingfromoneofmybadheadaches,”Iansweredcoldly.
“Ah,indeed?Wantofexercise,Isuppose?
Awalkbeforedinnerwouldhavebeenjustthethingforyou.”
Shereferredtothe“walk”withastrangeemphasis.Hadsheseenmegoout?Nomatterifshehad.
ThelettersweresafenowinFanny’shands.
“Comeandhaveasmoke,Fosco,”saidSirPercival,rising,withanotheruneasylookathisfriend.
“Withpleasure,Percival,whentheladieshavegonetobed,”repliedtheCount.
“Excuseme,Countess,ifIsetyoutheexampleofretiring,”Isaid.“Theonlyremedyforsuchaheadacheasmineisgoingtobed.”
Itookmyleave.Therewasthesameinsolentsmileonthewoman’sfacewhenIshookhandswithher.SirPercivalpaidnoattentiontome.
HewaslookingimpatientlyatMadameFosco,whoshowednosignsofleavingtheroomwithme.
TheCountsmiledtohimselfbehindhisbook.
TherewasyetanotherdelaytothatquiettalkwithSirPercival—andtheCountesswastheimpedimentthistime.
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