LETTER XVII
Hotel National, Lucerne
7th September
Darling Elizabeth:
The Wertzelmann Ball
This is our last day here, and we leave by the express for Paris to-night. Mr. Wertzelmann said he was going to give a ball that would be remembered, and he has kept his promise. I hardly know where to begin to tell you all about it. I had one offer of marriage and one of elopement, and got home at six in the morning.
First of all, Blanche and I, looking every bit as well dressed as any of the smart women here, drove out to Schloss Gessler by ourselves. Comte Belladonna and Mr. Vanduzen hinted outrageously for the two vacant seats, but we didn't intend to have our frocks crushed to save them a few francs, and wouldn't take their hints.
The Comte eventually got Mrs. Isaacs' seat in Mrs. Johnson's landau, but Mr. Vanduzen had to hire, and just as he was about to drive off the Duchesse de Vaudricourt rushed up and begged him for a seat, as she couldn't get a cab in the town. Thérèse told me this morning that the Duchesse has no maid, and that her room is above the escalier de service next to the Comte's, so I fancy they keep her at the National too as an advertisement for the sake of her name, though it's only Louis Philippe.
When we arrived at Schloss Gessler the scene was undeniably lovely; the grounds were like fairy-land, and Mr. Wertzelmann had had the electric light brought out from Lucerne, and had tried to turn a part of the lake into a Venetian canal. Mrs. Wertzelmann, in the most lovely costume I ever saw, received in the great hall. She never looked handsomer; her dress was made entirely of point lace over white silk, and made as only Worth or Paquin ever make for American millionaires. Round her neck was a serpent of diamonds holding in its open jaws an immense emerald. Both she and Mr. Wertzelmann received their guests with the most perfect sincerity and hospitality. There was not a scrap of affectation about them; it must be nice to be so rich that you can afford to be natural. Mr. Wertzelmann wore on the lapel of his dress-coat something like a button, with the American flag on it as a badge; all the foreigners wore decorations; don't ask me what they were,—if they were not Garters or Black Eagles, they looked as well. Even Sir Charles wore an Ashantee medal; he went in his uniform especially at Mr. Wertzelmann's request, who said he wanted a bit of colour in the room, only Sir Charles's tunic is not scarlet, and he looked somewhat like a commissionaire.
Madame Colorado was angelic as usual—what a lovely nun she would make! She was helping the Wertzelmanns to receive, and she looked after the Americans from the pensions that the Minister felt obliged to invite. It was great fun watching the guests arrive, and as we got there early we saw everybody; the Hungarian band from the National came out in a char-à-banc, but the supper was sent out in the afternoon. The ball-room was draped with the American and Swiss flags, and the national anthems of the two countries were played before the dancing began. There was no "state set" as we have in England, and nobody paid any attention to precedence. Mrs. Wertzelmann opened the ball with young Stefano. There was something higgledy-piggledy yet very splendid about the whole function; it went with far more spirit than such things go with us; people had come to enjoy themselves, and not to be martyrised by stupid formalities and etiquette. The musicians played ravishingly; they seemed to be intoxicated with their music, and sometimes they couldn't contain themselves but sang to the waltzes. There was an élan in the air. Mrs. Wertzelmann's portrait by Constant had electric lights all round the frame, and there was a champagne fountain in the refreshment room. The gaiety was almost barbaric in its extravagance, and was contagious. The men said the most outrageous things. The Marquis de Pivart, who had not paid much attention to me since I chaffed him about Héloise that night at the Schweitzerhof, danced with me three times running; he dances well, but held me so tight I could hardly breathe, and his breath was so hot on my neck it burnt. He asked me if I would like to go down to the lake to see the illumination; the night was splendid and very warm, there was no dew, and you could see the snow on Titlis as the moonbeams fell on it.
Without any preamble the Marquis burst into the most passionate declarations. He told me he had loved me in secret since the first time he had met me; would I flee with him then and there, catch the night train for Berne and Paris, live like Alfred de Musset and George Sand, and a lot more idiotic bosh; and he put his arms round me, and before I could release myself he bit me on the neck. I was so frightened that for the first time in my life, Elizabeth, I lost my presence of mind—I screamed. I don't know whether any one heard or saw, and I don't care. I told him he was a brute and I hated him, and I rushed as hard as I could under a huge Bengal light where I could easily be seen. I trembled so I could scarcely stand, and some of the wax from the candle dripped upon me. He came up with excuses and more protestations of love, but I said if he didn't leave me at once I should scream for help, and I must have looked as if I meant it, for he muttered something in his horrid black beard and went away. Then I went back to the ball-room and found Blanche. I told her what had happened, and asked her if she could see the marks of his teeth. She said the place only looked a tiny bit red, and we went to the dressing-room, where I powdered it.