Part 29 (1/2)
My love to Matilda. Her mother looks well.
I saw her last week. I have nothing to tell Worth your hearing. We think that the Government here Will not last our next session. Fitz Funk is a peer, You will see by the Times. There are symptoms which show That the ministers now are preparing to go, And finish their feast of the loaves and the fishes.
It is evident that they are clearing the dishes, And cramming their pockets with bonbons. Your news Will be always acceptable. Vere, of the Blues, Has bolted with Lady Selina. And so You have met with that hot-headed Frenchman? I know That the man is a sad mauvais sujet. Take care Of Matilda. I wish I could join you both there; But before I am free, you are sure to be gone.
Good-by, my dear fellow. Yours, anxiously, JOHN.”
II.
This is just the advice I myself would have given To Lord Alfred, had I been his cousin, which, Heaven Be praised, I am not. But it reach'd him indeed In an unlucky hour, and received little heed.
A half-languid glance was the most that he lent at That time to these homilies. Primum dementat Quem Deus vult perdere. Alfred in fact Was behaving just then in a way to distract Job's self had Job known him. The more you'd have thought The Duke's court to Matilda his eye would have caught, The more did his aspect grow listless to hers, And the more did it beam to Lucile de Nevers.
And Matilda, the less she found love in the look Of her husband, the less did she shrink from the Duke.
With each day that pa.s.s'd o'er them, they each, heart from heart, Woke to feel themselves further and further apart.
More and more of his time Alfred pa.s.s'd at the table; Played high; and lost more than to lose he was able.
He grew feverish, querulous, absent, perverse,-- And here I must mention, what made matters worse, That Lucile and the Duke at the selfsame hotel With the Vargraves resided. It needs not to tell That they all saw too much of each other. The weather Was so fine that it brought them each day all together In the garden, to listen, of course, to the band.
The house was a sort of phalanstery; and Lucile and Matilda were pleased to discover A mutual pa.s.sion for music. Moreover, The Duke was an excellent tenor; could sing ”Ange si pure” in a way to bring down on the wing All the angels St. Cicely play'd to. My lord Would also, at times, when he was not too bored, Play Beethoven, and Wagner's new music, not ill; With some little things of his own, showing skill.
For which reason, as well as for some others too, Their rooms were a pleasant enough rendezvous.
Did Lucile, then, encourage (the heartless coquette!) All the mischief she could not but mark?
Patience yet!
III.
In that garden, an arbor, withdrawn from the sun, By laburnum and lilac with blooms overrun, Form'd a vault of cool verdure, which made, when the heat Of the noontide hung heavy, a gracious retreat.
And here, with some friends of their own little world, In the warm afternoons, till the shadows uncurl'd From the feet of the lindens, and crept through the gra.s.s, Their blue hours would this gay little colony pa.s.s.
The men loved to smoke, and the women to bring, Undeterr'd by tobacco, their work there, and sing Or converse, till the dew fell, and homeward the bee Floated, heavy with honey. Towards eve there was tea (A luxury due to Matilda), and ice, Fruit and coffee. [Greek text omitted]!
Such an evening it was, while Matilda presided O'er the rustic arrangements thus daily provided, With the Duke, and a small German Prince with a thick head, And an old Russian Countess both witty and wicked, And two Austrian Colonels,--that Alfred, who yet Was lounging alone with his last cigarette, Saw Lucile de Nevers by herself pacing slow 'Neath the shade of the cool linden-trees to and fro, And joining her, cried, ”Thank the good stars, we meet!
I have so much to say to you!”
”Yes?... ”with her sweet Serene voice, she replied to him.... ”Yes? and I too Was wis.h.i.+ng, indeed, to say somewhat to you.”
She was paler just then than her wont was. The sound Of her voice had within it a sadness profound.
”You are ill?” he exclaim'd.
”No!” she hurriedly said.
”No, no!”
”You alarm me!”
She droop'd down her head.
”If your thoughts have of late sought, or cared, to divine The purpose of what has been pa.s.sing in mine, My farewell can scarcely alarm you.”
ALFRED.
Lucile!
Your farewell! you go!
LUCILE.
Yes, Lord Alfred.
ALFRED.
Reveal The cause of this sudden unkindness.
LUCILE.
Unkind?