Part 16 (2/2)
I had made up my mind that a little independence always carries with it an air of fas.h.i.+on. When I entered, therefore, I looked at him with a knowing air, and dropping the letter down on the table before him, said, ”There's something for you to read, major; and, in the mean time, I'll refresh myself on this chair;” suiting the action to the word, I threw myself on a chair, amusing myself with tapping the sides of my boots with a small cane which I carried in my hand.
Major Carbonnell, upon whom I cast a furtive eye more than once during the time that he was reading the letter, was a person of about thirty-five years of age, well-looking, but disfigured by the size of his whiskers, which advanced to the corners of his mouth, and met under his throat. He was tall and well made, and with an air of fas.h.i.+on about him that was undeniable. His linen was beautifully clean and carefully arranged, and he had as many rings on his fingers, and, when he was dressed, chains and trinkets, as ever were put on by a lady.
”My dear sir, allow me the honour of making at once your most intimate acquaintance,” said he, rising from his chair, and offering his hand, as soon as he had perused the letter. ”Any friend of Lord Windermear's would be welcome, but when he brings such an extra recommendation in his own appearance, he becomes doubly so.”
”Major Carbonnell,” replied I, ”I have seen you but two minutes, and I have taken a particular fancy to you, in which I, no doubt, have proved my discrimination. Of course, you know that I have just returned from making a tour?”
”So I understand from his lords.h.i.+p's letter. Mr Newland, my time is at your service. Where are you staying?”
”At the Piazza.”
”Very good; I will dine with you to-day; order some mulligatawny, they are famous for it. After dinner we will go to the theatre.”
I was rather surprised at his cool manner of asking himself to dine with me and ordering my dinner, but a moment's reflection made me feel what sort of person I had to deal with.
”Major, I take that as almost an affront. You will dine with me _to-day_! I beg to state that you _must_ dine with me every day that we are not invited elsewhere; and what's more, sir, I shall be most seriously displeased, if you do not order the dinner every time that you do dine, with me, and ask whoever you may think worthy of putting their legs under our table. Let's have no doing things by halves, major; I know you now as well as if we had been intimate for ten years.”
The major seized me by the hand. ”My dear Newland, I only wish we had known one another ten years, as you say--the loss has been mine; but now--you have breakfasted, I presume?”
”Yes! having nothing to do, and not knowing a soul after my long absence, I advanced my breakfast about two hours, that I might find you at home; and now I'm at your service.”
”Say rather I am at yours. I presume you will walk. In ten minutes I shall be ready. Either take up the paper, or whistle an air or two, or anything else you like, just to kill ten minutes--and I shall be at your command.”
PART ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
I COME OUT UNDER A FIRST-RATE CHAPERON, AND AT ONCE AM ESTABLISHED INTO THE REGIONS OF FAs.h.i.+ON--PROVE THAT I AM DESERVING OF MY PROMOTION.
”I beg your pardon, Newland,” said the major, returning from his dressing-room, resplendent with chains and bijouterie; ”but I must have your Christian name.”
”It's rather a strange one,” replied I; ”it is j.a.phet.”
”j.a.phet! by the immortal powers, I'd bring an action against my G.o.dfathers and G.o.dmothers; you ought to recover heavy damages.”
”Then I presume you would not have the name,” replied I, with a knowing look, ”for a clear ten thousand a year.”
”Whew! that alters the case--it's astonis.h.i.+ng how well any name looks in large _gold_ letters. Well, as the old gentleman, whoever he might have been, made you compensation, you must forgive and forget. Now where shall we go?”
”With your permission, as I came to town in these clothes, made by a German tailor--Darmstadt's tailor, by-the-by--but still if tailor to a prince, not the prince of tailors--I would wish you to take me to your own: your dress appears very correct.”
”You show your judgment, Newland, it _is_ correct; Stulz will be delighted to have your name on his books, and to do justice to that figure. _Allons donc_.”
We sauntered up Saint James's Street, and before I had arrived at Stulz's, I had been introduced to at least twenty of the young men about town. The major was most particular in his directions about the clothes, all of which he ordered; and as I knew that he was well acquainted with the fas.h.i.+on, I gave him _carte blanche_. When we left the shop, he said, ”Now, my dear Newland, I have given you a proof of friends.h.i.+p, which no other man in England has had. Your dress will be the _ne plus ultra_. There are little secrets only known to the initiated, and Stulz is aware that this time I am in earnest. I am often asked to do the same for others, and I pretend so to do: but a wink from me is sufficient, and Stulz dares not dress them. Don't you want some bijouterie? or have you any at home?”
”I may as well have a few trifles,” replied I.
We entered a celebrated jeweller's, and he selected for me to the amount of about forty pounds. ”That will do--never buy much; for it is necessary to change every three months at least. What is the price of this chain?”
”It is only fifteen guineas, major.”
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