"He dresses very oddly," said the lady companion; "but his manners seem everything that could be desired, and he has aristocratic hands."
"I did not notice his dress much. But he is very handsome. He looks like a Scandinavian hero. You know I was sure I should meet him again that day in Heidelberg."
"I suppose he really is very good-looking," a.s.sented Miss Skeat.
"Shall we have them to dinner some day? I think we might; very quietly, you know."
"I would certainly advise it, dear Countess. You really ought to begin and see people in some way besides allowing them to call on you. I think this solitude is affecting your spirits."
"Oh no; I am very happy--at least, as happy as I can be. But we will have them to dinner. When shall it be?"
"To-morrow is too soon. Say Thursday, since you ask me," said Miss Skeat.
"Very well. Shall we read a little?" And Tourgueneff was put into requisition.
It was late in the afternoon when the Countess"s phaeton, black horses, black liveries, and black cushions, swept round a corner of the drive.
Claudius and Barker, in a hired carriage, pa.s.sed her, coming from the opposite direction. The four people bowed to each other--the ladies graciously, the men with courteous alacrity. Each of the four was interested in the others, and each of the four felt that they would all be thrown together in the immediate future. There was a feeling among them that they had known each other a long time, though they were but acquaintances of to-day and yesterday.
"I have seldom seen anything more complete than that turn-out," said Mr.
Barker. "The impression of mourning is perfect; it could not have been better if it had been planned by a New York undertaker."
"Are New York undertakers such great artists?" asked Claudius.
"Yes; people get buried more profusely there. But don"t you think it is remarkably fine?"
"Yes. I suppose you are trying to make me say that the Countess is a beautiful woman," answered Claudius, who was beginning to understand Barker. "If that is what you want, I yield at once. I think she is the most beautiful woman I ever saw."
"Ah!--don"t you think perhaps that Miss Skeat acts as an admirable foil?"
"Such beauty as that requires no foil. The whole world is a foil to her."
"Wait till you come to America. I will show you her match in Newport."
"I doubt it. What is Newport?"
"Newport is the princ.i.p.al watering-place of our magnificent country. It is Baden, Homburg, Bigorre, and Biarritz rolled into one. It is a terrestrial paradise, a land of four-in-hands and houris and surf-bathing and nectar and ambrosia. I could not begin to give you an idea of it; wait till you get there."
"A society place, I suppose, then?" said Claudius, not in the least moved by the enthusiastic description.
"A society place before all things. But you may have plenty of solitude if you like."
"I hardly think I should care much for Newport," said Claudius.
"Well, I like it very much. My father has a place there, to which I take the liberty of inviting you for the season, whenever you make up your mind to enjoy yourself."
"You are very good, I am sure; and if, as you say, I ever go to America, which seems in your opinion paramount to enjoying myself, I will take advantage of your kind invitation."
"Really, I hope you will. Shall we go and dine?"
CHAPTER V.
On the following day Claudius and Mr. Barker received each a note. These communications were in square, rough envelopes, and directed in a large feminine handwriting. The contents intimated that the Countess Margaret would be glad to see them at dinner at half-past seven on Thursday.
"That is to-morrow," said Mr. Barker pensively.
Claudius, who was generally the calmest of the calm, made a remark in German to the effect that he fervently desired a thousand million bushels of thunder-weather to fly away with him that very instant.
"Did you say anything, Professor?" inquired Mr. Barker blandly.
"I did. I swore," answered Claudius. "I have half a mind to swear again."
"Do it. Profanity is the safety-valve of great minds. Swear loudly, and put your whole mind to it."
Claudius strode to the window of their sitting-room and looked out.
"It is extremely awkward, upon my word," he said.
"What is awkward, Professor? The invitation?"
"Yes--very."
"Why, pray? I should think you would be very much pleased."
"Exactly--I should be: but there is a drawback."
"Of what nature? Anything I can do?"
"Not exactly. I cannot wear one of your coats."
"Oh! is that it?" said Mr. Barker; and a pleasant little thrill of triumph manifested itself, as he pushed out his jaw and exhibited his circular wrinkle. "Of course--how stupid of me! You are here as a pedestrian, and you have no evening dress. Well, the sooner we go and see a tailor the better, in that case. I will ring for a carriage." He did so, remarking internally that he had scored one in putting the Doctor into a position which forced him to dress like a Christian.
"Do you never walk?" asked Claudius, putting a handful of cigarettes into his pocket.
"No," said the American, "I never walk. If man were intended by an all-wise Providence to do much walking he would have four legs."
The tailor promised upon his faith as a gentleman to make Claudius presentable by the following evening. Baden tailors are used to providing clothes at short notice; and the man kept his word.
Pending the event, Barker remarked to Claudius that it was a pity they might not call again before the dinner. Claudius said in some countries he thought it would be the proper thing; but that in Germany Barker was undoubtedly right--it would not do at all.
"Customs vary so much in society," said Barker; "now in America we have such a pretty habit."
"What is that?"
"Sending flowers--we send them to ladies on the smallest provocation."