Part 8 (2/2)

”Feast of reason and flow of soul; I don't like such entertainment.

Give me a good supper and plenty of champagne.”

”Why, what matter can it make to you?” said I, laughing.

”It matters a good deal. I object to literary parties,” replied he.

”In the first place, for one respectable carriage driving up to the door, there are twenty cabs and jarveys, so that the company isn't so good; and then at parties, when there is a good supper, I get my share of it in the kitchen. You don't think we are idle down below. I have been to Mrs Allwood's twice, and there's no supper, nothing but feast of reason, which remains upstairs, and they're welcome to my share of it. As for the drink, it's negus and cherry-water; nothing else, and if the flow of soul is not better than such stuff, they may have my share of that also. No music, no dancing, nothing but buzz, buzz, buzz.

Won't you feel it stupid!”

”Why, one would think you had been upstairs instead of down, Lionel.”

”Of course I am. They press all who have liveries into the service, and I hand the cakes about rather than kick for hours at the legs of the kitchen-table. I hear all that's said just as well as the company, and I've often thought I could have given a better answer than I've heard some of your great literaries. When I hand the cakes to-night, take them I point out to you: they'll be the best.”

”Why, how can you tell?”

”Because I try them all before I come in the room.”

”You ought to be ashamed to acknowledge it.”

”All comes of reading, miss,” replied he. ”I read that in former times great people, kings and princes and so on, always had their victuals tasted first, lest there should be poison in them: so I taste upon that principle, and I have been half-poisoned sometimes at these cheap parties, but I'm getting cunning, and when I meet a suspicious-looking piece of pastry, I leave it for the company; but I can't wait to talk any longer, miss, I must give coachman his orders.”

”I never asked you to talk, Mr Lionel,” said I.

”No, you didn't, but still I know you like to hear me: you can't deny that. Now to use my lady's style, I am to tell the coachman to put a girdle round the park in forty minutes;” so saying, the lad vanished, as he usually did, in a second.

The lad was certainly right when he said that I did like to hear him talk, for he amused me so much, that I forgave his impudence and familiarity. Shortly afterwards, we went out in the carriage, and having driven two or three times round the park, returned home to dinner. At ten o'clock, we went to Mrs Allwood's party. I was introduced to a great many great literary stars, whom I had never before heard of; but the person who attracted the most attention was a Russian Count, who had had his ears and nose cut off by the Turks. It certainly did not add to his beauty, however it might have to his interest.

However, Lionel was right. It was a very stupid party to me: all talking at once and constantly on the move to find fresh listeners; it _was_ all buzz, buzz, buzz, and I was glad when the carriage was announced. Such were the events of the first day which I pa.s.sed under the roof of Lady R--.

Indeed, this first day may be taken as a sample of most others, and a month pa.s.sed rapidly away. Each day, however, was marked with some peculiar eccentricity on her part, but these diverted me. I was often requested to do strange things in my position as a model, but with all her oddities Lady R--was a gentlewoman in manner and in feeling, and what I should certainly have refused to anyone else, I did for her without reluctance. I now called her Semp.r.o.nia, as she requested, and, moreover, I became very intimate with Master Lionel, who would be intimate, whether or no, and who, like Lady R--, was a source of great amus.e.m.e.nt. At times, when I was alone and communed with myself, I could not help surveying my peculiar position. I was engaged at a large salary--for what? to look handsome, to put myself in att.i.tudes, and to do nothing. This was not flattering to my talents (such as I had), but still I was treated with kindness and confidence; was the companion of her ladys.h.i.+p; was introduced and taken to all the parties to which she was asked, and never made to feel my dependence. I had already imbibed a strong friends.h.i.+p for Lady R--, and I was, therefore, content to remain. One morning she said to me, ”My dear Valerie, do me the favour to tighten the laces of my stays.”

She was, as usual, writing in her dressing-gown.

”Oh, tighter yet; as tight as you can draw them. That will do nicely.”

”Why you can hardly breathe, Semp.r.o.nia.”

”But I can write, my dear child, and, as I before observed, the mind and the body influence each other. I am about to write a strictly moral dialogue, and I never could do it unless I am strait-laced. Now I feel fit for the wife of Cato and of Rome.”

A few days afterwards she amused me still more. After writing about half-an-hour, she threw down her pen--

”I never can do it; come upstairs, my dear Valerie, and help me off with my stays. I must be _a l'abandon_.”

I followed her, and having removed these impediments we returned to the boudoir.

”There,” said she, sitting down, ”I think I shall manage it now: I feel as if I could.”

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