Not caring to argue the point, which after all resolved itself into the question that the lady was the child of somebody, and that somebody was called 'Cassidy,' I began to meditate on the singularity of such a phase in life as the entertainers of sovereigns, kaisers, kings, princes, archdukes, and ambassadors being a person utterly unknown.
'But here's Grammont,' said my mother, as a gentle tap was heard at the door and the Count entered—the only change in his appearance since last I saw him being the addition of another cordon to his blue coat, and a certain springiness in his walk, which I afterwards remarked as common among all the returned émigrés at the restoration.
'Que diable faut il faire,' said the Count, entering, 'with this Madame de Roni? She refuses all the world. Ah, Jack, mon cher, how do you do?—safe and sound from all the perils of these terrible French, who cut you all to pieces in the Peninsula? But only think, miladi, no card for la Duchesse de Tavenne; Madame de Givry left out! Sapristi! I hope there is nothing against ce pauvre Roi de Prusse.'
'Well, and here is John,' said my mother; 'what are we to do about him?'
My renewed disclaimer of any wish in the matter was cut short by a look of reproof, and I waited the whole discussion with patience.
'Never was there such a difficulty,' said the Count, musing. 'There is certainly nothing to be done through the worthy husband of Madame. Dejoncourt and two or three more gave him a diner en gourmand at Very's, to seduce him; and after his fifth flask of champagne he frankly confessed he was sorry he could not return their civilities as he wished. I 'll entertain you here, and have Blucher and Platon, Fouché, and any one else you like to meet you. I'll introduce you to old Prussia and the Czar whenever you please; you shall have permission to shoot at Fontainebleau any day you mention; but as to Madame de Roni, she is devilish exclusive. I really cannot manage that for you.'
'I wish you could prevail on yourself to be serious,' said my mother, in nowise pleased with the jocular spirit the Count's anecdote had excited. 'But here is Julia—what does she advise?'
As my mother spoke, the door opened, and my cousin appeared. Her figure had more of the roundness of womanhood, and her face, though paler, was fuller, and its expression had assumed a more decided character than when I last saw her. Her winning smile and her graceful carriage were all unchanged; and her low soft voice never struck me as more fascinating than when she held out her hand and said—
'My dear cousin, how happy it makes me to see you again!'
Her dark-blue eyes were tearful as she spoke, and her lip—that haughty lip—trembled. A strange wild thrill crept through my heart as I pressed her hand within both of mine—a vague feeling which I dared not suffer to dwell in my mind, and yet feared lest when it should depart that I had lost my chance of happiness. Yes, there are times when a man without the admixture of any coxcombry in the feeling, without a particle of vanity—nay, with a deep sense of his own un worthiness—can ask himself, 'Does this woman like me?' And at such moments, if his own heart give not the ready answer, it were far better that he sought not the reply from his reason.