“But what alternative have I? Jekyl's flatteries are but fictions. Would I wish them to be otherwise? Alas, I cannot tell; I do not even know my own heart now. Oh for one true-hearted friend to guide and counsel me!” She thought of George Onslow, rash, impetuous, and ardent; she thought of the priest, D'Esmonde, but the last scene in which he figured made her shrink with terror from the man of dark intrigues and secret wiles. She even thought of poor Hanserl, who, in all the simplicity of his nature, she wished to have that moment beside her. “But he would say, 'Go back; return to the humble home you quitted; put away all the glittering gauds that are clinging to and clasping your very heart. Take, once more, your lowly place at hearth and board, and forget the bright dream of pleasure you have passed through.' But how forget it? Has it not become my hope, my very existence? How easy for those who have not tasted the intoxicating cup, to say, 'Be cool of heart and head!' Nor am I what I was. How then go back to be that which I have ceased to be? Would that I had never left it! Would that I could live again in the dreamland of the poets that we loved so well, and wander with dearest Nelly through those forest glades, peopled with the creations of Uhland, Tieck, and Chammisso! What a glorious world is theirs, and how unlike the real one!”
Thus, lost in thoughts conflicting and jarring with each other, mingling the long past with the distant future, hoping and fearing, now seeking self-persuasion here, now controverting her own opinions there, she walked hurriedly on, unconscious of the time, the place, and even the rude glances bestowed upon her by many who gazed at her with an insolent admiration. What an armor is innocence! how proof against the venomed dart of malice? Kate never knew the ordeal through which she was passing. She neither saw the looks nor heard the comments of those that passed. If her mind ever turned from the throng of thoughts that oppressed it, it was when some momentary difficulty of the way recalled her to herself; for, as she escaped from the smaller streets, the crowd and crash increased, and she found herself borne along as in a strong current.
“Does this lead to the Piazza Annunziata?” asked she of a woman at a fruit-stall.
“Tell her, Giacomo,” said the woman to a youth, who, with a water-melon in his hand, lay at full length on the pavement.
“Per Baccho! but she 's handsome!” said he, holding up the paper lantern to gaze at her. And Kate hurried on in terror.
CHAPTER XXXVI. A STREET RENCONTRE
LADY HESTER ONSLOW had passed a day of martyrdom. There was scarcely a single contrariety in the long catalogue of annoyances which had not fallen to her share. Her servants, habitually disciplined to perfection, had admitted every bore of her acquaintance, while, to the few she really wished to see, admittance had been denied. The rumor of an approaching departure had got wind through the servants, and the hall and the courtyard were crowded with creditors, duns, and begging impostors of every age and class and country. It seemed as if every one with a petition or a bill, an unsatisfied complaint or an unsettled balance, had given each other a general rendezvous that morning at the Mazzarini Palace.
It is well known how the most obsequious tradespeople grow peremptory when passports are signed and posthorses are harnessed. The bland courteousness with which they receive “your Ladyship's orders” undergoes a terrible change. Departure is the next thing to death. Another country sounds like another world. The deferential bashfulness that could not hint at the mention of money, now talks boldly of his debt. The solvent creditor, who said always “at your convenience,” has suddenly a most pressing call “to make up a large sum by Saturday.”
All the little cajoleries and coquetries, all the little seductions and temptations of trade, are given up. The invitations to buy are converted into suggestions for “cash payment.” It is very provoking and very disenchanting! From a liberal and generous patron, you suddenly discover yourself transformed into a dubious debtor. All the halo that has surrounded your taste is changed for a chill atmosphere of suspicion and distrust. The tradesfolk, whose respectful voices never rose above a whisper in the hall, now grew clamorous in the antechamber; and more than once did they actually obtrude themselves in person within those charmed precincts inhabited by Lady Hester.