Volume I Part 2 (2/2)
He was _attache_ to our mission at Naples before he was sixteen, and had the honour of wounding the old Marquis d'Espagna with the small sword at the same precocious era. The duel originated after a truly Italian manner; and as there are at Naples many incorrect reports of it, I will take the trouble to give the real one. The Marquis was an old man, married to one of the most beautiful women in Italy. She was a Venetian, and if my memory serves me right, a Guillardini by birth. She married him at eighteen to escape a convent, he being the richest n.o.ble under the rank of the blood royal at Naples. Very unlike the majority of Italian husbands, the Marquis was excessively jealous, would not permit the most innocent freedoms of his young and lovely wife, and eventually secluded himself and--worse still--her from all society, and never appeared except at a court ball, or some such festivity that there were no means of avoiding. It was at one of these festivities that the King, who liked to see his ball-room put forth its fairest aspect, bantered the Marquis on the rumour that had even reached the ears of royalty, as to his inordinate jealousy. The Marquis, whose old spirit of courtiers.h.i.+p predominated even as strongly as his jealousy, a.s.sured his Majesty that the worthy people of Naples did him great injustice, and that, although conscious of the Marquesa's great beauty and attractiveness, he had yet too high a sense of the distinguished place he and his family had always held in the esteem of his sovereign to feel jealous of any man's pretension; adding, ”If I have not admitted the conventional addition of a _cavaliere servente_ to my household, I would beg your Majesty to believe it is simply because I have seen no one as yet worthy to hand la Mar-quesa to her carriage or fold her shawl.”
”Admirably spoken, Marquis!” said the King; ”the sentiment is quite worthy of one who has the best blood of Sicily in his veins. But remember what an artificial state of society we live in; think of our conventional usages, and what a shock it gives to public opinion when one, placed in so exalted a position as you are, so palpably affronts universal and admitted custom; recollect that your reserve involves a censure on others, less suspicious, and, we would hope, not less rigidly honourable men, than yourself.”
”But what would your Majesty counsel?”
”Select a _cavaliere_ yourself, as little likely to excite your jealousy as you please; as little agreeable as possible, if you prefer it: but, comply at least so far with the world's prescription, and do not shock our worthy Neapolitans by appearing to reflect upon them. There, what say you to that boy yonder? he is only a boy--he has just joined the English mission here. I'm sure he has formed no tender engagements to prevent you adopting him, and you will at least seem to conform with the usages of your neighbours.”
”If your Majesty commands----”
”Nay, Marquis, I but advise.”
”Your Majesty's wish is always a command. I feel proud to obey.”
”Then, I am very happy to say I wish it,” said the King, who turned away, dying to tell the court-party how miserable he had made the old Marquis.
Such are _debauche_ Kings; the glorious prerogative of power becomes the mere agent of perverted ingenuity to work mischief and do wrong!
The poor Marquis lost no time to follow out the royal commands, and at once made acquaintance with Beauclerc--only too happy to be noticed in such a quarter. I know not whether the lady was much gratified by the result of this kingly interposition in her favour: some said, Yes, and that the youth was really gifted and _spirituel_, with a vein of quiet, caustic humour, most amusing; others--and I half incline to this notion--p.r.o.nounced him dull and uninteresting. At all events, the Marquesa enjoyed the liberty of appearing often in public, and seeing more of the world than heretofore. She usually visited the San Carlos, too, twice a week; a great improvement in her daily life, as previously the Opera was denied her.
Immediately over the Marquesa's box was the large box, or rather _salon_, belonging to the club of the Italian _n.o.bili_, who frequented the theatre far less for the pleasures of the opera and the ballet than for the more exciting delights of _faro_ and _ecarte_; and here, nightly, were a.s.sembled all the most dissipated and spendthrift youth of a capital, whose very gravest and most exemplary citizens would be reckoned ”light company” any where else.
High play, with all its consequences of pa.s.sionate outbreaks, ruin, and duelling, were the pastimes of this ill-fated _loge_; and, notwithstanding the attractions the box underneath contained, Jack Beauclerc was far oftener in the second tier than the first. He was, indeed, a most inveterate gambler; and the few moments which he devoted to attending the Marquesa to her box, or her carriage, were so many instants of pregnant impatience till he was back at the play-table.
It was on one evening, when, having lost a very heavy sum, that his turn came to deal; and, with the superst.i.tious feeling that only a play-man can understand, he resolved to stake a very large amount upon the game. The attention of the bystanders--never very deeply engaged by the _scene_--was now entirely engrossed by the play-table, where Beauclerc and his adversary were seated at _ecarte_. It was that critical moment when the cards were dealt, but the trump not yet turned, and Beauclerc sat enjoying, with a gambler's ”malign” delight, the eager anxiety in the other player's countenance, when suddenly a voice said,--
”Ha, Beauclerc! the Marquesa is rising--she is about to leave the theatre.”
”Impossible!” said he; ”it is only the second act.”
”It is quite true, though,” rejoined another; ”she is putting on her mantle.”
”Never mind our party, then,” cried Beauclerc's antagonist; ”I will hold myself ready to play the match out whenever you please.”
”I please it now, then!” said he, with a degree of energy that heavy losses had, in spite of him, rendered uncontrollable.
”Il Signor Beauclerc!” said a servant, approaching, ”the Marquis d'Espagna desires to see you.”
”Tell him I am engaged--I can't come,” said Beauclerc, turning up the trump-card, which he held out triumphantly before his adversary, saying, ”The king!”
At the same instant the old Marquis entered, and, approaching the table, whispered a few words in his ear. If an adder had pierced him with its sting, Beauclerc could not have started with a more agonised expression; and he sprang from the chair and rushed out of the theatre, not by the door, however, where the Marquesa's carriage was yet standing, but by a private pa.s.sage, which led more easily towards his lodgings.
”What is this piece of news, that all are so amused by?” said the King, the next morning, as he was rising.
”Your majesty alludes to the Marquis d'Es-pagna, no doubt,” said Count Villafranca. ”He challenged the young English _attache_ last night, at the theatre, and they have been out this morning; and, strange to say, that the Marquis, the very best swordsman we have ever had here, was disarmed and run through the side by his antagonist.”
”Is the wound dangerous?” said the King, coolly.
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