CHAPTER III
"I flatter myself I managed that rather neatly," remarked the Baronet, as he surveyed his nephew with a complacent grin, "an introduction, a tête-à-têtes, and an invitation, all within half-an-hour."
"You could not have done more, sir, had you been a London chaperone of twenty seasons. I assure you I am duly grateful."
"And I tell you what, young man," resumed Sir Horace, now turning to pace beside him, "whilst you were laying siege to the young lady's heart, I was compelled to listen to a history of her aunt's liver affection, and an alarming account of the condition of her internal organs. Some old women have only three topics: disease, domestics, and diet. Besides these, Madame de Godez has a famous appetite—for compliments."
"Which I presume you were good enough to feed."
"Yes; in my experience, the uglier the old beldame, the more she craves for admiration. I am deservedly well established in Madame's good graces—in fact, in her present frame of mind, I believe she would marry me to-morrow—if I asked her!"
"She is enormously rich, and looks the soul of good nature," urged the young man, and his tone implied encouragement.
"Quite true; but I have lived very comfortably without a wife for sixty-one years, and I'm not going to be such an old fool as to take one now, even if she is worth her weight in gold. No, no, Malcolm, my boy, joking apart, if the dowager favours you, and the young lady accepts you, you can chuck the Service to-morrow, and forfeit your return ticket, for your fortune is made!"
"Don't you think you are going ahead too fast, sir? For all you and I know, there may be twenty Richmonds in the field."
"No," responded Sir Horace, with emphasis, "your only serious rival is young Prince Tossati, the chap she left to mind the dog and carry the parasol. He is one of the five sons of an impoverished Italian duke, who has a palace full of priceless pictures and statuary, which he may not sell—desperately as he is in need of ready money. His pedigree goes back to the Cæsars, but unfortunately that is also non-transferable. I don't believe the poor beggar can lay hands on more than six hundred a year, and the sole chances for the sons—are heiresses. One has married an American girl in Pork, and our friend Allessandro has figuratively marked the fair Verona for his own."
"He is an insignificant little chap! as dark as an Arab," sneered Captain Haig.
"Yes," assented his uncle, "I declare when I see him, I can't help looking for the monkey and the organ! but he has a title—a real one, mind you—and I believe Madame would give one of her eyes, or even go without her dinner for a whole week, to be in a position to say, 'my niece, the Princess!'"
"Oh, but she is not really her niece," objected Malcolm, with a touch of impatience. "Why, Madame is exactly like an old Portuguese half-caste, such as one sees on the West coast!"
"I can only tell you, that the girl has lived with her for twenty years," responded Sir Horace with solemn deliberation, "and no one has ever heard of, or seen, any other relations."
"And how did Madame de Godez get into Society?"
"Possibly because she did not care a straw about it, for one thing; for another, she makes no false pretences, is notoriously good-natured, and enormously rich, and she has also a fair supply of homely honesty and a brusque wit."
"And where did her fortune come from?"
"Ah! now you go beyond me!" said Sir Horace, "from piracy, for all I know!" and he laughed. "Madame is rather like the stock character of a pirate's wife. But one thing is certain, the money is all there. Madame will give us a first-rate dinner to-night, so don't eat a heavy lunch. It will be none of your Homburg affairs, no occasion to bring your purse and ask for the bill at dessert!"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, it's a good old local custom. Friends invite you to dine at their hotel, and you go. They pay for the flowers, and perhaps the coffee—everyone settles for themselves—and there you are!"
"There I should not be," rejoined his nephew, with a laugh of contempt.
"I grant that it is undoubtedly a moderate form of entertainment, but you meet your acquaintance. Of course, there are other dinners, too, the dear familiar kinds. See here—" suddenly coming to a halt in front of a flower stall not far from Ritter's Hotel, and lifting as he spoke a bunch of exquisite roses to his face—"I'll send this to the aunt; the old lady likes little attentions. Do you buy one for the niece. We can leave them with the hall porter as we pass."
"Oh, but I say," expostulated his companion, "I don't like to send a bouquet to a girl I've only spoken to once; she would think it such awful cheek."
"Not at all," replied Sir Horace, "it is perfectly correct here. At Homburg you do as Homburg does. I know my way about, my boy; pay up and look pleasant; four marks, and—oh, you may as well pay for me too. I've no change. I'll make it all right by-and-by."
Captain Haig nodded, as he produced a small gold piece and handed it across the stand, well aware that he was about to present not one, but two bouquets.
"You don't think she'd like a little dog as well?" suggested Sir Horace facetiously, as he eyed some black Spitz puppies, which were being hawked about hard by.
"No, I fancy Miss Chandos finds one dog enough, to go on with."
His uncle gave a loud harsh laugh as they moved away, each carrying a superb bunch of La France roses.
Madame de Godez and her niece were at déjeûner when the two bouquets made their appearance. To be perfectly correct, Miss Chandos had finished and was busy with a pencil and paper; but her aunt was still actively engaged.
"What do you think of Sir Horace's nephew, Verona?" she enquired, as she turned over the flowers and sniffed at them.
"Oh," looking up from her writing, "he is not bad."
"Bad—not bad! whatt a girl to talk so! Why he is very good-looking."
"Yes, I suppose he is; and it is rather a relief to meet with a stranger who has never been here before, and does not know anyone, or even his way about. I declare his ignorance is quite refreshing!"
"O—ah! he will not be long ignorant," replied Madame, squeezing up her eyes, "his uncle is worldly wise. He will educate him!"
"Oh, auntie, you know you promised Dr. Krauss you would not touch fruit and cream, and you have had two helpings, besides macaroni and fish. You really must not be so foolish."
"Now, now, now, Verona," she protested peevishly, "do let me a-lone! Why may I not eat my food? It is all I have to enjoy. You spoil my appetite; you always worry so. Here, Dog Darling! come and taste this lobstar cutlet—so good, dear! Why!" with a gasp of surprise, "he won't touch it!"
"Wise dog," said Verona, "he knows what agrees with him. I'm sure animals are more sensible about their food than we are. I must write out the cards for the dinner table now. We shall be thirty with these two men."
"Their flowers may as well be sent down for the table," suggested Madame (who dearly loved similar small economies). "Let me see, dear, the names," and she glanced over a half-sheet of paper. "Lord and Lady Bosworth, Monsieur and Madame de la Vallance, General Huntly, Prince Tossati—oh, by the way, my dear child, why were you so unkind to him to-day, leaving the poor fellow to carry your things, and lead about Dog Darling, whilst you walked off with a stranger? Better not do so again. He was hurt, I could see, he looked quite white with emotion!"
"Dearest auntie, he never could look white. His skin is the colour of café au lait when he turns pale—he merely becomes sallow."
"He is a handsome young fellow, with the blood of emperors in his veins."
"Maybe so, but he is as swarthy as a Moor. He might be Emperor of Morocco. His hair is lank, his eyes are two ink pools. I am sure he is a most estimable young man, who writes every day to his mother, but if we get up tableaux, I solemnly warn you that I shall certainly invite him to do Othello."
"O—ah, Verona, for shame of you! You prefer the red-haired young officer."
"Red hair—oh, oh!" she laughed. "You know very well, auntie, that I prefer no one."
"Because you are so hard to please—so proud! Pray, what is the difference between Tossati and Sir Horace's nephew?"
"Well, if you ask me, I should say, that one was a black prince, and the other a white man!"
"Oh, my! my! my! whatt things you do say! quite shocking—though you are but joking; you are nevarre in earnest—nevarre!"
"But occasionally I am," retorted the girl, suddenly rising. "For instance, I am in earnest now, when I tell you that your mud bath will be ready in a quarter of an hour." And as she spoke, she rang a loud peal on the bell.
"Oh, no, no!" wailed her companion, beating the air with two little dumpy hands. "I will not to-day, I will—not. These early hours do kill me. I am too fatigued. No, I will go and lie down for a while and be fresh for this afternoon. I will not take the bath, I will not."
"But really, auntie——"
"Really, child, I promised the duchess to go to her bazaar. I know you are going to play golf. No, I will not take this nasty mud bath—you must not insist—you must not!"
"Well, I shall tell Dr. Krauss," said Verona, nodding her head, "you know you are dreadfully afraid of him."
"I will take it to-morrow—really and truly—oh, truly, I give you my word! Look here, dearie, I cannot take Dog Darling to the bazaar. I think you might allow him to go with you to the Golf. Do!"
"No, indeed, he fetches half the balls, then loses them, and disgraces me."
"Oh, well, then I must ask Minette to get a fly and take him for a nice drive round Saarbruck. The air will do him good, poor darling!"