“Welcome back to your old home, my Sibyl!” I said to her in a low voice tenderly, at which words she paused, looking up at the red gables of the house with such wistful affection as filled her eyes with something like tears. She left her hand in mine, and allowed me to lead her towards the silken-draped, flower-decked porch, where Lucio waited, smiling,—and as she advanced, two tiny pages in pure white and silver glided suddenly out of some unseen hiding-place, and emptied two baskets of pink and white rose-leaves at her feet, thus strewing a fragrant pathway for her into the house. They vanished as completely and swiftly as they had appeared,—some [p 264] of the guests uttered murmurs of admiration, while Sibyl gazed about her, blushing with surprise and pleasure.
“How charming of you, Geoffrey!” she said, “What a poet you are to devise so pretty a greeting!”
“I wish I deserved your praise!” I answered, smiling at her—“But the poet in question is Prince Rimânez,—he is the master and ruler of to-day’s revels.”
Again the rich colour flushed her cheeks, and she gave Lucio her hand. He bowed over it in courtly fashion,—but did not kiss it as he had kissed the hand of Mavis Clare. We passed into the house, through the drawing-room, and out again into the gardens, Lord Elton being loud in his praise of the artistic manner in which his former dwelling had been improved and embellished. Soon the lawn was sprinkled with gaily attired groups of people,—and my duties as host began in hard earnest. I had to be greeted, complimented, flattered, and congratulated on my approaching marriage by scores of hypocrites who nearly shook my hand off in their enthusiasm for my wealth. Had I become suddenly poor, I thought grimly, not one of them would have lent me a sovereign! The guests kept on arriving in shoals, and when there were about three or four hundred assembled, a burst of exquisite music sounded, and a procession of pages in scarlet and gold, marching two by two appeared, carrying trays full of the rarest flowers tied up in bouquets, which they offered to all the ladies present. Exclamations of delight arose on every side,—exclamations which were for the most part high-pitched and noisy,—for the ‘swagger set’ have long ceased to cultivate softness of voice or refinement of accent,—and once or twice the detestable slang word, ‘ripping’ escaped from the lips of a few dashing dames, reputed to be ‘leaders’ of style. Repose of manner, dignity and elegance of deportment, however, are no longer to be discovered among the present ‘racing’ duchesses and gambling countesses of the bluest blue blood of England, so one does not expect these graces of distinction from them. The louder they can talk, and the [p 265] more slang they can adopt from the language of their grooms and stable-boys, the more are they judged to be ‘in the swim’ and ‘up to date.’ I speak, of course, of the modern scions of aristocracy. There are a few truly ‘great ladies’ left, whose maxim is still ‘noblesse oblige,’—but they are quite in the minority and by the younger generation are voted either ‘old cats’ or ‘bores.’ Many of the ‘cultured’ mob that now swarmed over my grounds had come out of the sheerest vulgar curiosity to see what ‘the man with five millions’ could do in the way of entertaining,—others were anxious to get news, if possible, of the chances of ‘Phosphor’ winning the Derby, concerning which I was discreetly silent. But the bulk of the crowd wandered aimlessly about, staring impertinently or enviously at each other, and scarcely looking at the natural loveliness of the gardens or the woodland scenery around them. The brainlessness of modern society is never so flagrantly manifested as at a garden-party, where the restless trousered and petticoated bipeds move vaguely to and fro, scarcely stopping to talk civilly or intelligently to one another for five minutes, most of them hovering dubiously and awkwardly between the refreshment-pavilion and the band-stand. In my domain they were deprived of this latter harbour of refuge, for no musicians could be seen, though music was heard,—beautiful wild music which came first from one part of the grounds and then from another, and to which few listened with any attention. All were, however, happily unanimous in their enthusiastic appreciation of the excellence of the food provided for them in the luxurious luncheon tents of which there were twenty in number. Men ate as if they had never eaten in their lives before, and drank the choice and exquisite wines with equal greed and gusto. One never entirely realises the extent to which human gourmandism can go till one knows a few peers, bishops and cabinet-ministers, and watches those dignitaries feed ad libitum. Soon the company was so complete that there was no longer any need for me to perform the fatiguing duty of ‘receiving’; and I therefore took Sibyl in to luncheon, determining to devote [p 266] myself to her for the rest of the day. She was in one of her brightest and most captivating moods,—her laughter rang out as sweetly joyous as that of some happy child,—she was even kind to Diana Chesney, who was also one of my guests, and who was plainly enjoying herself with all the verve peculiar to pretty American women, who consider flirtation as much of a game as tennis. The scene was now one of great brilliancy, the light costumes of the women contrasting well with the scarlet and gold liveries of the seemingly innumerable servants that were now everywhere in active attendance. And, constantly through the fluttering festive crowd, from tent to tent, from table to table, and
group to group, Lucio moved,—his tall stately figure and handsome face always conspicuous wherever he stood, his rich voice thrilling the air whenever he spoke. His influence was irresistible, and gradually dominated the whole assemblage,—he roused the dull, inspired the witty, encouraged the timid, and brought all the conflicting elements of rival position, character and opinion into one uniform whole, which was unconsciously led by his will as easily as a multitude is led by a convincing orator. I did not know it then, but I know now, that metaphorically speaking, he had his foot on the neck of that ‘society’ mob, as though it were one prostrate man;—that the sycophants, liars and hypocrites whose utmost idea of good is wealth and luxurious living, bent to his secret power as reeds bend to the wind,—and that he did with them all whatsoever he chose,—as he does to this very day! God!—if the grinning, guzzling sensual fools had only known what horrors were about them at the feast!—what ghastly ministers to pleasurable appetite waited obediently upon them!—what pallid terrors lurked behind the gorgeous show of vanity and pride! But the veil was mercifully down,—and only to me has it since been lifted!
Luncheon over, the singing of mirthful voices, tuned to a kind of village roundelay, attracted the company, now fed to repletion, towards the lawn at the back of the house, and cries of delight were raised as the Maypole came into view, I myself joining in the universal applause, for I had not expected to [p 267] see anything half so picturesque and pretty. The pole was surrounded by a double ring of small children,—children so beautiful in face and dainty in form, that they might very well have been taken for little fairies from some enchanted woodland. The boys were clad as tiny foresters, in doublets of green, with pink caps on their curly locks,—the girls were in white, with their hair flowing loosely over their shoulders, and wreaths of May-blossom crowning their brows. As soon as the guests appeared on the scene, these exquisite little creatures commenced their dance, each one taking a trail of blossom or a ribbon pendant from the May-pole, and weaving it with the others into no end of beautiful and fantastic designs. I looked on, as amazed and fascinated as anyone present, at the wonderful lightness and ease with which these children tripped and ran;—their tiny twinkling feet seemed scarcely to touch the turf,—their faces were so lovely,—their eyes so bright, that it was a positive enchantment to watch them. Each figure they executed was more intricate and effective than the last, and the plaudits of the spectators grew more and more enthusiastic, till presently came the finale, in which all the little green foresters climbed up the pole and clung there, pelting the white-robed maidens below with cowslip-balls, knots of roses, bunches of violets, posies of buttercups, daisies and clover, which the girl-children in their turn laughingly threw among the admiring guests. The air grew thick with flowers, and heavy with perfume, and resounded with song and laughter;—and Sibyl, standing at my side, clapped her hands in an ecstasy.
“Oh, it is lovely—lovely!” she cried—“Is this the prince’s idea?” Then as I answered in the affirmative, she added, “Where, I wonder, did he find such exquisitely pretty little children!”
As she spoke, Lucio himself advanced a step or two in front of the other spectators and made a slight peremptory sign. The fairy-like foresters and maidens, with extraordinary activity, all sprang away from the May-pole, pulling down the garlands with them, and winding the flowers and ribbons [p 268] about themselves so that they looked as if they were all tied together in one inextricable knot,—this done, they started off at a rapid run, presenting the appearance of a rolling ball of blossom, merry pipe-music accompanying their footsteps, till they had entirely disappeared among the trees.
“Oh do call them back again!” entreated Sibyl, laying her hand coaxingly on Lucio’s arm,—“I should so like to speak to two or three of the prettiest!”
He looked down at her with an enigmatical smile.