Part 54 (1/2)

”Not know! I never tasted such Tokay in my life!”

”Probably,” said Mr. Beckendorff; ”I think it was a present from the Emperor. I have never tasted it.”

”My dear sir, take a gla.s.s!” said the Prince, his naturally jovial temper having made him completely forget whom he was addressing, and the business he had come upon.

”I never drink wine; I am glad you like it; I have no doubt Clara has more.”

”No, no, no! we must be moderate,” said the Prince, who, though a great admirer of a good luncheon, had also a due respect for a good dinner, and consequently had no idea, at this awkward hour in the day, of preventing himself from properly appreciating the future banquet.

Moreover, his Highness, taking into consideration the manner in which the game had been dressed, and the marks of refinement and good taste which seemed to pervade every part of the establishment of Mr.

Beckendorff, did not imagine that he was much presuming when he conjectured that there was a fair chance of his dinner being something superior.

The sudden arrival and appearance of some new and unexpected guests through the mysterious portal on which Mr. Beckendorff by his three knocks had previously produced such a tranquillising effect, and which he had now himself opened, explained the character of the apartment, which, from its unceasing melody, had so much excited the curiosity of his guests. These new visitors were a crowd of piping bullfinches, Virginia nightingales, trained canaries, Java sparrows, and Indian lorys; which, freed from their cages of golden wire by their fond master, had fled, as was their custom, from his superb aviary to pay their respects and compliments at his daily levee.

”I am glad to see that you like birds, sir,” said Beckendorff to Vivian; for our hero, good-naturedly humouring the tastes of his host, was impartially dividing the luxuries of a peach among a crowd of gaudy and greedy little sparrows. ”You shall see my favourites,” continued Beckendorff; and tapping rather loudly on the table, he held out the forefinger of each hand. Two bullfinches recognised the signal, and immediately hastened to their perch.

”My dear!” trilled out one little songster, and it raised its speaking eyes to its delighted master.

”My love!” warbled the other, marking its affection by looks equally personal.

As these monosyllables were repeated, Beckendorff, with sparkling eyes, triumphantly looked round at Vivian, as if the frequent reiteration were a proof of the sincerity of the affection of these singular friends.

At length, to the Prince's relief, Mr. Beckendorff's feathered friends, having finished their dessert, were sent back to their cages, with a strict injunction not to trouble their master at present with their voices, an injunction which was obeyed to the letter; and when the door was closed few persons could have been persuaded that the next room was an aviary.

”I am proud of my peaches, Mr. von Philipson,” said Beckendorff, recommending the fruit to his guest's attention, then rising from the table, he threw himself on the sofa, and began humming a tune in a low voice. Presently he took up his Cremona, and, using the violin as a guitar, accompanied himself in a beautiful air, but not in a more audible tone. While Mr. Beckendorff was singing he seemed unconscious that any person was in the room; and the Prince, who was not very fond of music, certainly gave him no hint, either by his approbation or his attention, that he was listened to. Vivian, however, like most unhappy men, loved music; and actuated by this feeling, and the interest which he began to take in the character of Mr. Beckendorff, he could not, when that gentleman had finished his air, refrain from very sincerely saying ”encore!”

Beckendorff started and looked round, as if he were for the first moment aware that any being had heard him.

”Encore!” said he, with a kind sneer: ”who ever could sing or play the same thing twice! Are you fond of music, sir?”

”Very much so, indeed. I fancied I recognised that air. You are an admirer I imagine, of Mozart?”

”I never heard of him; I know nothing of those gentry. But if you really like music, I will play you something worth listening to.”

Mr. Beckendorff began a beautiful air very adagio, gradually increasing the time in a kind of variation, till at last his execution became so rapid that Vivian, surprised at the mere mechanical action, rose from his chair in order better to examine the player's management and motion of his bow. Exquisite as were the tones, enchanting as were the originality of his variations and the perfect harmony of his composition, it was nevertheless extremely difficult to resist smiling at the contortions of his face and figure. Now, his body bending to the strain, he was at one moment with his violin raised in the air, and the next instant with the lower nut almost resting upon his foot. At length, by well-proportioned degrees, the air died away into the original soft cadence; and the player, becoming completely entranced in his own performance, finished by sinking back on the sofa, with his bow and violin raised over his head. Vivian would not disturb him by his applause. An instant after, Mr. Beckendorff, throwing down the instrument, rushed through an open window into the garden.

As soon as Beckendorff was out of sight, Vivian looked at the Prince; and his Highness, elevating his eyebrows, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his mouth, and shrugging his shoulders, altogether presented a comical picture of a puzzled man.

”Well, my dear friend,” said he, ”this is rather different from what we expected.”

”Very different; but much more amusing.”

”Humph!” said the Prince, slowly; ”I do not think it exactly requires a ghost to tell us that Mr. Beckendorff is not in the habit of going to court. I do not know how he is accustomed to conduct himself when he is honoured by a visit from the Grand Duke; but I am quite sure that, as regards his treatment of myself, to say the least, the incognito is well observed.”

”Mr. von Philipson,” said the gentleman of whom they were speaking, putting his head in at the window, ”you shall see my blue pa.s.sion-flower. We will take a walk round the garden.”

The Prince gave Vivian a look which seemed to suppose they must go, and accordingly they stepped into the garden.

”You do not see my garden in its glory,” said Mr. Beckendorff, stopping before the bow window of the library. ”This spot is my strong point; had you been here earlier in the year, you might have admired with me my invaluable crescents of tulips; such colours! such brilliancy! so defined! And last year I had three king-tulips; their elegantly-formed, creamy cups I have never seen equalled. And then my double variegated ranunculuses; my hyacinths of fifty bells, in every tint, single and double; and my favourite stands of auriculas, so large and powdered that the colour of the velvet leaves was scarcely discoverable! The blue pa.s.sion-flower is, however, now beautiful. You see that summer-house, sir,” continued he, turning to Vivian; ”the top is my observatory. You will sleep in that pavilion to-night, so you had better take notice how the walk winds.”

The pa.s.sion-flower was trained against the summer-house in question.