A Madeira Party

by S. Weir Mitchell

This ceremony over, we were seated, and the tale of M. Des Illes's rescue having been told once more at too great length, the Duke rose, and, taking my hand, desired me to understand that I had conferred upon him a favor which I must have known M. Des Illes as long as he to understand. When his son had stated that none could better what his father had said, he added, "May it please God, Monsieur, that you never need a friend; and may his providence never leave you without one as good as you yourself have proved to be." I replied in fluent but unequal French, and began to have the keenest desire to know what the mischief all this masquerade might mean.

I soon observed that the politics of the day were out of the talk. When, indeed, we were speaking of pictures, and Pierce mentioned a portrait of the Prince President in the Salon, a manner of chill seemed to fall upon the party, while the Duke said with a certain gentle decisiveness, "You, who are our guests this evening, and will share it with us—may I say for my friend and myself that the person mentioned should never get so far into good society as to be talked of by gentlemen—at least not to-night—not to-night?"

"No," said St. Maur; "not to-night."

Pierce spoke quickly, "You will pardon us, Duke."

The Duke lifted a remonstrating hand. "It is not needed," he said. "And have you seen the great landscape by Diaz? I have the pendant; but now his prices have gone up, and we poor gentlefolk, alas!" Here he took snuff, and M. de St. Maur remarked with a smile, "My good father is never so near extravagance as when he talks of his poverty."

"He is shrewd, the young man, and of distressing economy—a quite modern economy. I bought it to-day." Our laughter set the chat on a less formal footing, and we fell to talking of theaters, actresses, the latest play, and the like, until at last M. Des Illes said. "Pardon, my dear Duke, but the hour is near when we must go down to the cellar."

Meanwhile no one had explained the costumes which appeared to have power to recall into active life the forms of manners with which they seemed to consist so well, the grave courtesies of an hour more patient than that in which we live. "We are at your service," said the Duke, rising. "Our friends must feel by this time as if they were calling on actors behind the scenes at the Odeon. Is it not so?" he added.

"Perhaps," I returned. "But the wise who are well entertained do not ask the name of the inn; at least so they say in Spain."

"Monsieur has found for us a delightful apology," said M. de St. Maur. "Let us leave him to guess our sad riddle; and now, the lanterns."

As he spoke, M. Des Illes came from a closet with lanterns and straw wine-baskets, of which he gave one to each of us. Then the candles in the lanterns were lighted, while Pierce and I, profoundly curious, said nothing.