Part 11 (1/2)
”Ah, ha! and you have always done what you liked, my little madam?”
”Of course, sir! and so I shall,” she answered, drawing up her pretty little head, while Lady Archfield gave hers a boding shake.
”Time, and life, and wifehood teach lessons,” murmured Mrs. Woodford in consolation, and the Doctor changed the subject by asking Peregrine whether the ladies abroad were given to housewifery.
”The German dames make a great ado about their Wirthschaft, as they call it,” was the reply, ”but as to the result! Pah! I know not how we should have fared had not Hans, my uncle's black, been an excellent cook; but it was in Paris that we were exquisitely regaled, and our maitre d'hotel would discourse on ragouts and entremets till one felt as if his were the first of the sciences.”
”So it is to a Frenchman,” growled Sir Philip. ”French and Frenchifications are all the rage nowadays, but what will your father say to your science, my young spark?”
The gesture of head and shoulder that replied had certainly been caught at Paris. Mrs. Woodford rushed into the breach, asking about the Princess of Orange, whom she had often seen as a child.
”A stately and sightly dame is she, madam,” Peregrine answered, ”towering high above her little mynheer, who outwardly excels her in naught save the length of nose, and has the manners of a boor.”
”The Prince of Orange is the hope of the country,” said Sir Philip severely.
Peregrine's face wore a queer satirical look, which provoked Sir Philip into saying, ”Speak up, sir! what d'ye mean? We don't understand French grins here.”
”Nor does he, nor French courtesies either,” said Peregrine.
”So much the better!” exclaimed the baronet.
Here the little clear voice broke in, ”O Mr. Oakshott, if I had but known you were coming, you might have brought me a French doll in the latest fas.h.i.+on.”
”I should have been most happy, madam,” returned Peregrine; ”but unfortunately I am six months from Paris, and besides, his honour might object lest a French doll should contaminate the Dutch puppets.”
”But oh, sir, is it true that French dolls have real hair that will curl?”
”Don't be foolish,” muttered Charles impatiently; and she drew up her head and made an indescribably droll moue of disgust at him.
Supper ended, the party broke up into old and young, the two elder gentlemen sadly discussing politics over their tall gla.s.ses of wine, the matrons talking over the wedding and Lady Archfield's stay in London at the parlour fire, and the young folk in a window, waiting for the fiddler and a few more of the young people who were to join them in the dance.
The Archfield ladies had kissed the hand of the Queen, and agreed with Peregrine in admiration of her beauty and grace, though they did not go so far as he did, especially when he declared that her eyes were as soft as Mistress Anne's, and nearly of the same exquisite brown, which made the damsel blush and experience a revival of the old feeling of her childhood, as if he put her under a spell.
He went on to say that he had had the good fortune to pick up and restore to Queen Mary Beatrice a gold and coral rosary which she had dropped on her way to St. James's Palace from Whitehall. She thanked him graciously, letting him kiss her hand, and asking him if he were of the true Church. ”Imagine my father's feelings,” he added, ”when she said, 'Ah! but you will be ere long; I give it you as a pledge.'”
He produced the rosary, handing it first to Anne, who admired the beautiful filigree work, but it was almost s.n.a.t.c.hed from her by Mrs.
Archfield, who wound it twice on her tiny wrist, tried to get it over her head, and did everything but ask for it, till her husband, turning round, said roughly, ”Give it back, madam. We want no Popish toys here.”
Lucy put in a hasty question whether Master Oakshott had seen much sport, and this led to a spirited description of the homely earnest of wild boar hunting under the great Elector of Brandenburg, in contrast with the splendours of la cha.s.se aux sangliers at Fontainebleau with the green and gold uniforms, the fanfares on the curled horns, the ladies in their coaches, forced to attend whether ill or well, the very boars themselves too well bred not to conform to the sport of the great idol of France. And again, he showed the diamond sleeve b.u.t.tons, the trophies of a sort of bazaar held at Marly, where the stalls were kept by the Dauphin, Monsieur, the Duke of Maine, Madame de Maintenon, and the rest, where the purchases were winnings at Ombre, made not with coin but with nominal sums, and other games at cards, and all was given away that was not purchased. And again the levees, when the King's wig was handed through the curtains on a stick. Peregrine's profane mimicry of the stately march of Louis Quatorze, and the cringing obeisances of his courtiers, together with their strutting majesty towards their own inferiors, convulsed all with merriment; and the bride shrieked out, ”Do it again! Oh, I shall die of laughing!”
It was very girlish, with a silvery ring, but the elder ladies looked round, and the bridegroom muttered 'Mountebank.'
The fiddler arrived at that moment, and the young people paired off, the young couple naturally together, and Peregrine, to the surprise and perhaps discomfiture of more than one visitor, securing Anne's hand. The young lady pupils of Madame knew their steps, and Lucy danced correctly, Anne with an easy, stately grace, Charles Archfield performed his devoir seriously, his little wife frisked with childish glee, evidently quite untaught, but Peregrine's light narrow feet sprang, pointed themselves, and bounded with trained agility, set off by the tight blackness of his suit. He was like one of the grotesque figures shaped in black paper, or as Sir Philip, looking in from the dining-parlour, observed, ”like a light- heeled French fop.”
As a rule partners retained one another all the evening, but little Mrs. Archfield knew no etiquette, and maybe her husband had pushed and pulled her into place a little more authoritatively than she quite approved, for she shook him off, and turning round to Peregrine exclaimed--
”Now, I will dance with you! You do leap and hop so high and trippingly! Never mind her; she is only a parson's niece!”