Our little circle has been augmented by a very pleasant and genial addition, Mr. Edward Wolsey, a nephew of the commodore's, who may very likely be engaged to Maud.
As I have become quite intimate with Commodore Montague's party, I generally join their group, without the smallest fear of raising a suspicion regarding these encounters. The attention which I pay to Kondjé-Gul and to Suzannah have caused no little envy, for, as you know, Kondjé-Gul pretends she does not dance. This peculiarity, together with her original fascinations with which a certain childish simplicity is mingled, give rise to the most extraordinary conjectures. What is the cause of all this reserve? men ask. Is it modesty, bashfulness, or pride? They know that she can dance splendidly, for she has been seen dancing occasionally at private parties with Maud and Suzannah. They think it must be due to some jealous fiancé, her betrothal to whom is kept secret, and to whom she is devoted.
Lent having interrupted the course of public entertainments, our private parties which usually took place at Teral House, became the gainers by it. Maud and Suzannah felt more free and easy there, and Kondjé-Gul experienced quite a childish delight in holding what she called her "receptions." Our small circle was soon augmented by a dozen select friends, picked carefully from the ranks of their young ball-room acquaintances. There were one or two mothers among them whose presence did not interfere with the harmony of these charming gatherings, and the tone of elegant distinction which prevailed in no respect interfered with their exuberant gaiety.
This break in the giddy circle of fashionable dissipation, afforded quite a new happiness to Kondjé-Gul and me. In the course of her initiation into the refinements of our life, her exotic charms had acquired some new and indescribable embellishments. We spent many a long evening alone together in that delightful privacy which affords the sweetest opportunities for communion between loving hearts, and we grew to feel like a modern Darby and Joan. I was quite proud of my handiwork, and contemplated with joy this pure and ideal being whose nature I had inspired, whose soul and whose heart I had moulded. The cultivation of this young and virgin mind, as I may be permitted to call it, so possessed by its Oriental beliefs, had produced a charming contrast of enthusiasm and calm reason which imparted a most original effect to her frank utterances of new ideas. I was often quite surprised to find in her mingled with her Asiatic superstitions, and transformed as it were by contact with a simpler faith, the substance of my own private sentiments and of my wildest aspirations. One might really think that she had borrowed her thoughts, nay, her very life, as it were, from me, and that her tender emotions had their source in my own heart.
Our happiness seemed so assured, and we had it so completely under our own control, that it would have appeared absurd for us to imagine it to be at the mercy of Fate. Still, in the midst of this tranquillity there sometimes arose in my mind an anxious thought. Light clouds floated across my clear azure sky, and often, as I sat by her side, I began to think, in spite of myself, about the future—about this marriage of which you yourself have reminded me, and from the obligations to which nothing could save me. However great the sacrifice might be, I could not even think of failing to carry out my uncle's wishes in this matter. My heart bound me to this adoptive father who had placed unlimited faith in my loyalty: my whole life was pledged to this chivalrous benefactor who had left all his fortune in my hands, nor could I permit the least suspicion of ingratitude on my part to pass over his mind.
But melancholy as was the recollection of this duty to which I had resigned myself, I must confess that, after all, this impression was but a fugitive one. I no longer attempted to struggle against the temptation to a compromise, by means of which I had determined to reconcile my passion for Kondjé-Gul with my marital duties to Anna Campbell. The retiring nature of the latter would surely permit our union to be treated as one of those arrangements known as mariages de convenance, and my charming romantic connection with Kondjé-Gul would always remain a secret. Moreover, my uncle, should he ever discover this after-match of my oriental life, was certainly not the man to be seriously scandalised at it, directly he assured himself that "the respectabilities" had not been violated.
By-the-bye, I should tell you that was a false alarm I sounded about my uncle! I calumniated him when I believed him to have committed anything so shocking as a double adultery.
We went again yesterday to the forest of Meudon, which we had almost given up visiting of late, my uncle having been engaged for the last fortnight upon "some important morning business," as he says. Well, we arrived at Villebon's restaurant, our usual destination. When we entered that celebrated room—empty this time—which had been the scene of the drama which you remember, the latter came back very naturally to our memory, and would have done so even without the superfluous aid of the grins with which our waiter greeted us. Equally naturally, and as becomes a dutiful nephew, who does not wish to appear indifferent to family matters, I, seeing my uncle cast a glance towards the window near which the incident that produced such momentous consequences occurred, took the opportunity of asking after my pseudo-aunt Christina, about whom I had not had any previous chance of questioning him.
"Christina!" exclaimed Barbassou-Pasha, "why, she's gone back!"