Within the Maze: A Novel, Vol. 1 (of 2)

by Mrs. Henry Wood

Amidst the crowd, passing onwards with a listless step, as if pleasure had no part in his heart and he had no use for étrennes, was a solitary individual: a distinguished looking man of pleasing features and altogether refined face, whom few of the traversers could have mistaken for aught but an Englishman. His mourning apparel and a certain air of sadness that pervaded his face seemed to be in unison. Several women--ingrained coquettes from their birth, as French women nearly always are born to be--threw glances of admiration at the handsome man, in spite of the fact that their husbands--for that one day--were at their side; and wondered what near relative he had lost. But the gentleman passed on his listless way, seeing them not, and utterly unconscious that any answering glances from his own eyes were coveted. It was Sir Karl Andinnian.

Close upon the burial of his ill-fated brother Adam, Mrs. Andinnian, prostrate with grief and trouble, took to confine herself to her own apartment at Foxwood Court: for it was at that residence she thenceforth took up her abode. Karl found himself nearly altogether excluded from her presence. Even at meals she declined to join him, and caused them to be served for herself apart. "Do you wish me away from Foxwood?" Karl one day asked her. "I do; I would be entirely alone," was her reply. "I am aware that Foxwood is yours now, Karl, and you may think I have no right even to express a hint that you might for a time leave it; but I feel that the chance of my regaining strength and spirits would be greater if left entirely to myself: your presence here is a strain upon me."

The answer was to Karl welcome as sunshine in harvest. He had been longing to travel; to try and find some relief from his thoughts in hitherto untrodden scenes: consideration for his mother--the consciousness that it would be wrong both in duty and affection
to leave her--had alone prevented his proposing it. Within
four-and-twenty hours after this he had quitted Foxwood.

But Karl was not so soon to quit England. Various matters had to be settled in regard to the estate; and when he reached London his lawyers, Plunkett and Plunkett, said they should want him for a little while. The crime committed by Sir Adam so immediately upon the death of Sir Joseph, had caused a vast deal of necessary business to remain in abeyance. Certain indispensable law proceedings to be gone through, had to be gone through now. So Karl Andinnian perforce took up his temporary abode in London; and at the end of a week or two, when he found himself at liberty, he crossed over the water, Vienna being his first halting place. The sojourn there of a former brother officer, Captain Lamprey, who had been Karl's chiefest friend and stuck to him in his misfortunes, induced it. Captain Lamprey was staying in Vienna with his newly married wife, and he wrote to ask Karl to join them. Karl did so. Captain Lamprey's term of leave expired the end of December. He and his wife were going home to spend the Christmas, and Karl accompanied them as far as Paris. Mrs. Andinnian, in answer to a question from Karl, whether she would like him to return to her for Christmas, had written back to him a resolute and ungracious No.

So here he was, in Paris. It was all the same to him; this
resting-place or that resting-place. His life had been blighted in more ways than one. Of Lucy Cleeve he thought still a great deal too much for his peace. She was far enough removed from him in all senses of the word. In a letter received by Captain Lamprey from some friends at Winchester, it was stated that the Cleeves were wintering in Egypt. Where Karl's own place of sojourn was next to be, he had not decided, but his thoughts rather turned towards every chief continental city that was famed for its gallery of paintings. He thought he would make a pilgrimage to all of them. Karl had the eye of a true artist: to gaze at good paintings was now the only pleasure of his life. He had not yet anything like done with those in Paris and Versailles.

On, upon his course along the Boulevards, passed he. Now and again his eyes turned towards the lovely étrennes with a longing: once in a way, when the throngs allowed him, he halted to look and admire: a longing to buy étrennes himself, and that he had some one to give them to when bought. It was not well possible for any body to feel more completely isolated from the happy world than did Karl Andinnian.

"How d'ye do, Sir Karl? Charming day for the holiday, is it not!"

Sir Karl made some answering assent, raised his hat, bowed, and passed on. The remark had come from an Englishman with whom he had a slight acquaintance, who had come out shop-gazing with his flock of daughters.

He went straight home then to his hotel--Hotel Montaigne, Rue Montaigne. As he crossed the courtyard, the landlord--a ponderous gentleman with a ponderous watch-chain--came out and gave him some letters. From some cause the English delivery had been late that morning.

One of the letters was from Captain Lamprey, the other from Plunkett and Plunkett. Neither contained any interest; neither thought to wish him happiness for the New Year. It was all the same to Karl Andinnian: the New Year could not have much happiness in store for him.