[CHAPTER XXXIX.]
THE DINNER.
Taken altogether, Fainacky may be but a very ordinary pattern of a man, but as a maître de plaisir in the arrangement of a fête he is unrivalled. A more exquisite table than that around which the twenty people are assembled who form the rehearsing party for Harry's betrothal festival it would be difficult to imagine. The only criticism that can be made is that the guests are rather far apart; but who could have foreseen that at the last moment four people would be lacking? The Paul Leskjewitsches, with their niece, sent regrets, and Olga, just before dinner, was obliged to retire with a severe headache, to which she succumbed in spite of her aunt's exhortations to her "not to mind it." Lato is present; he is indifferent as to where his hours drag past. He is determined to prevent Olga's being made the subject of discussion, and his social training, with the numbness sure to ensue upon great mental agitation, stands him in stead; he plays his part faultlessly. Now and then the consciousness of his hopeless misery flashes upon him, then it fades again; he forgets all save the present moment, and he scans everything about him with keen observation, as if he had no part or parcel in it, but were looking at it all as at another world.
Yes, the table is charmingly decorated; anything more tasteful or more correct in every respect could not be imagined; but the people gathered about this sparkling board, never before has he seen them so clearly or judged them so severely.
His contempt is specially excited by his social equals. Fritz Mayenfeld, "the numismatician," does not long occupy his attention. In spite of his rank, he has always manifested thoroughly plebeian instincts; his greed of gain is notorious; and he looks, and is, entirely at home in the Harfink domestic atmosphere. The descent of the other aristocrats present, however,--of Kilary, of the short-haired Countess, and of the affected Count Fermor,--is tolerably evident in their faces, and they all seem determined to assert their aristocratic prestige in the same manner,--by impertinence.
Lato is conscious of a horror of his own caste as he studies these degenerate members of it. He turns his attention to the three guests from Komaritz,--the Countess Zriny, Hedwig, and Harry. The old canoness, who is seated on his right, provokes his smile. The superb condescension with which, for love of her nephew, she treats "these people;" the formal courtesy with which she erects an insurmountable barrier between them and herself; the morsels of liberalism which she scatters here and there in her conversation for their comfort and delectation,--all are worthy of the most enthusiastic praise.
Poor old woman! How important she is in her own eyes! Her gown is the ugliest and shabbiest there (the one the sporting Countess wears was given her by Selina), but six strings of wonderful pearls which she wears around her neck make her all right. Hedwig,--well, she is a little more affected than usual; she is flirting with little Baron Königsfeld, who took her in to dinner, playing him off against her neighbour on the other side, Count Fermor. And Harry,--with profound sympathy and intense compassion Lato's eyes rest upon his friend. Simple, without pretension or affectation, very courteous without condescension, a little formal, perhaps, withal,--as the most natural of men must be where he feels himself a stranger,--with that in his face and bearing that distinguishes him above every one present, he is the only specimen of his own caste there with whom Lato feels satisfied.
"They may abuse us as they please," he thinks to himself,--"nay, I even join them in abusing,--but if one of us gives his word he stands to it." And then he questions whether in any other rank could be found such an example of noble and manly beauty, or of such quixotic, self-annihilating, chivalrous honour. "Good heavens! why not?" he makes reply to himself. "So far as moral worth is concerned, assuredly; only in form it would probably be less refined."
Lato has had much experience of life. He has laid aside all the prejudices of his class, but the subtile caste-instinct still abides with him. He asks himself whether his family--the Harfink family--notice the difference between Harry and the other aristocrats present; whether the Harfinks will not be finally disgusted by the impertinence of these coxcombs; whether they do not feel the offensive condescension of the Countess Zriny. It would seem not. The Harfinks, mother and daughters, are quite satisfied with what is accorded them; they are overflowing with gratified vanity, and are enjoying the success of the festival. Even Selina is pleased; Olga's absence seems to have soothed her. She informs Lato, by all kinds of amiable devices,--hints which she lets fall in conversation, glances which she casts towards him,--that she is sorry for the scene of the morning, and is ready to acquiesce. She tells her neighbour at dinner, Baron Kilary, that to-day is the anniversary of her betrothal.
Lato becomes more and more strongly impressed by the conviction that her severe attack of jealousy has aroused within her something of her old sentiment for him. The thought disgusts him profoundly; he feels for her a positive aversion.