“I may win it yet!” I said hopefully—“In this place, I feel I could write something worthy of being written.”
“Good! The ‘divine flutterings’ of winged thoughts are in your brain! Apollo grant them strength to fly! And now let us have luncheon,—afterwards we shall have time to take a stroll.”
In the dining-room I found an elegant repast prepared, which rather surprised me, as I had given no orders, having indeed forgotten to do so. Lucio however had, it appeared, not forgotten, and an advance telegram from him had placed certain caterers at Leamington on their mettle, with the result that we sat down to a feast as delicate and luxurious as any two epicures could desire.
“Now I want you to do me a favour, Geoffrey,”—said Lucio, during our luncheon—“You will scarcely need to reside here till after your marriage; you have too many engagements in town. You spoke of entertaining a big house-party down here,—I wouldn’t do that if I were you,—it isn’t worth while. You would have to get in a staff of servants, and leave them all afterwards to their own devices while you are on your honeymoon. This is what I propose,—give a grand fête here in honour of your betrothal to Lady Sibyl, in May—and let me be the master of the revels!”
I was in the mood to agree to anything,—moreover the idea seemed an excellent one. I said so and Rimânez went on quickly—
“You understand of course, that if I undertake to do a thing I always do it thoroughly, and brook no interference with my plans. Now as your marriage will be the signal for our parting,—at any rate for a time,—I should like to show my appreciation of your friendship, by organizing a brilliant affair of the kind I suggest,—and if you will leave it all to me, I guarantee you shall hold such a fête as has never been seen or known in England. And it will be a personal satisfaction to me if you consent to my proposal.”
[p 218]
“My dear fellow—” I answered—“Of course I consent—willingly! I give you carte blanche,—do as you like; do all you like! It is most friendly and kind of you! But when are we to make this sensation?”
“You are to be married in June?” he asked.
“Yes,—in the second week of the month.”
“Very well. The fête shall be held on the twenty-second of May,—that will give society time to recover from the effect of one burst of splendour in order to be ready for another,—namely the wedding. Now we need not talk of this any more—it is settled,—the rest devolves on me. We’ve got three or four hours to spare before we take the train back to town,—suppose we take a saunter through the grounds?”