The cardinal came, early; the ladies had not long left the dining-room.
They were agitated when his name was announced; even Apollonia"s heart beat; but then that might be accounted for by the inopportune recollection of an occasional correspondence with Caprera.
Nothing could exceed the simple suavity with which the cardinal appeared, approached, and greeted them. He thanked Apollonia for her permission to pay his respects to her, which he had long wished to do; and then they were all presented, and he said exactly the right thing to every one. He must have heard of them all before, or read their characters in their countenances. In a few minutes they were all listening to his eminence with enchanted ease, as, sitting on the sofa by his hostess, he described to them the amba.s.sadors who had just arrived from j.a.pan, and with whom he had relations of interesting affairs. The j.a.panese government had exhibited enlightened kindness to some of his poor people who had barely escaped martyrdom. Much might be expected from the Mikado, evidently a man of singular penetration and elevated views; and his eminence looked as if the mission of Yokohama would speedily end in an episcopal see; but he knew where he was and studiously avoided all controversial matter.
After all, the Mikado himself was not more remarkable than this prince of the Church in a Tyburnian drawing-room habited in his pink ca.s.sock and cape, and waving, as he spoke, with careless grace, his pink barrette.
The ladies thought the gentlemen rejoined them too soon, but Mr. Giles, when he was apprised of the arrival of the cardinal, thought it right to precipitate the symposium. With great tact, when the cardinal rose to greet him, Mr. Giles withdrew his eminence from those surrounding, and, after a brief interchange of whispered words, quitted him and then brought forward and presented Lothair to the cardinal, and left them.
"This is not the first time that we should have met," said the cardinal, "but my happiness is so great at this moment that, though I deplore, I will not dwell on, the past."
"I am, nevertheless, grateful to you, sir, for many services, and have more than once contemplated taking the liberty of personally a.s.suring your a eminence of my grat.i.tude."
"I think we might sit down," said the cardinal, looking around; and then he led Lothair into an open but interior saloon, where none were yet present, and where they seated themselves on a sofa and were soon engaged in apparently interesting converse.
In the mean time the world gradually filled the princ.i.p.al saloon of Apollonia, and, when it approached overflowing, occasionally some persons pa.s.sed the line, and entered the room in which the cardinal and his ward were seated, and then, as if conscious of violating some sacred place, drew back. Others, on the contrary, with coa.r.s.er curiosity, were induced to invade the chamber from the mere fact that the cardinal was to be seen there.
"My geographical instinct," said the cardinal to Lothair, "a.s.sures me that I can regain the staircase through these rooms, without rejoining the busy world; so I shall bid you good-night and even presume to give you my blessing;" and his eminence glided away.
When Lothair returned to the saloon it was so crowded that he was not observed; exactly what he liked; and he stood against the wall watching all that pa.s.sed, not without amus.e.m.e.nt. A lively, social parasite, who had dined there, and had thanked his stars at dinner that Fortune had, decreed he should meet Lothair, had been cruising for his prize all the time that Lothair had been conversing with the cardinal and was soon at his side.
"A strange scene this!" said the parasite.
"Is it unusual?" inquired Lothair.
"Such a medley! How can they can be got together, I marvel--priests and philosophers, legitimists, and carbonari! Wonderful woman, Mrs. Putney Giles!"
"She is very entertaining," said Lothair, "and seems to me clever."
"Remarkably so," said the parasite, who had been on the point of satirizing his hostess, but, observing the quarter of the wind, with rapidity went in for praise. "An extraordinary woman. Your lordship had a long talk with the cardinal."
"I had the honor of some conversation with Cardinal Grandison," said Lothair, drawing up.
"I wonder what the cardinal would have said if he had met Mazzini here?"
"Mazzini! Is he here?"
"Not now; but I have seen him here," said the parasite, "and our host such a Tory! That makes the thing so amusing;" and then the parasite went on making small personal observations on the surrounding scene, and every now and then telling little tales of great people with whom, it appeared, he was intimate--all concerted fire to gain the very great social fortress he was now besieging. The parasite was so full of himself, and so anxious to display himself to advantage, that with all his practice it was some time before he perceived he did not make all the way he could wish with Lothair; who was courteous, but somewhat monosyllabic and absent.
"Your lordship is struck by that face?" said the parasite.
Was Lothair struck by that face? And what was it?
He had exchanged glances with that face during the last ten minutes, and the mutual expression was not one of sympathy but curiosity blended, on the part of the face, with an expression, if not of disdain, of extreme reserve.
It was the face of a matron, apparently of not many summers, for her shapely figure was still slender, though her mien was stately. But it was the countenance that had commanded the attention of Lothair: pale, but perfectly Attic in outline, with the short upper lip and the round chin, and a profusion of dark-chestnut hair bound by a Grecian fillet, and on her brow a star.
"Yes I am struck by that face. Who is it?"
"If your lordship could only get a five-franc piece of the last French Republic, 1850, you would know. I dare say the money-changers could get you one. All the artists of Paris, painters, and sculptors, and medallists, were competing to produce a face worthy of representing "La R publique fran aise;" n.o.body was satisfied, when Oudine caught a girl of not seventeen, and, with a literal reproduction of Nature, gained the prize with unanimity."
"Ah!"
"And, though years have pa.s.sed, the countenance has not changed; perhaps improved."
"It is a countenance that will bear, perhaps even would require, maturity," said Lothair; "but she is no longer "La R publique fran aise;" what is she now?"
"She is called Theodora, though married, I believe, to an Englishman, a friend of Garibaldi. Her birth unknown; some say an Italian, some a Pole; all sorts of stories. But she speaks every language, is ultra-cosmopolitan, and has invented a new religion."
"A new religion!"
"Would your lordship care to be introduced to her? I know her enough for that. Shall we go up to her?"
"I have made so many now acquaintances to-day," said, Lothair, as it were starting from a reverie, "and indeed heard so many new things, that I think I had better say good-night;" and he graciously retired.
CHAPTER 9
About the same time that Lothair had repaired to the residence of Mr.
Giles, Monsignore Berwick, whose audience of the cardinal in the morning had preceded that of the legal adviser of the trustees, made his way toward one of the n.o.blest mansions in St. James"s Square, where resided Lord St. Jerome.
It was a mild winter evening; a little fog still hanging about, but vanquished by the cheerful lamps, and the voice of the m.u.f.fin-bell was just heard at intervals; a genial sound that calls up visions of trim and happy hearths. If we could only so contrive our lives as to go into the country for the first note of the nightingale, and return to town for the first note of the m.u.f.fin-bell, existence, it is humbly presumed, might be more enjoyable.
Monsignore Berwick was a young man, but looking younger from a countenance almost of childhood; fair, with light-blue eyes, and flaxen hair and delicate features. He was the last person you would have fixed upon as a born Roman; but Nature, in one of the freaks of race, had resolved that his old Scottish blood should be rea.s.serted, though his: ancestors had sedulously blended it, for, many generations, with that of the princely houses of the eternal city. The monsignore was the greatest statesman of Rome, formed and favored by Antonelli and probably his successor.
The mansion of Lord St. Jerome was a real family mansion, built by his ancestors a century and a half ago, when they believed that, from its central position, its happy contiguity to the court, the senate, and the seats of government, they at last, in St. James"s Square, had discovered a site which could defy the vicissitudes of fashion, and not share the fate of the river palaces, which they had been obliged in turn to relinquish. And in a considerable degree they were right in their antic.i.p.ation; for, although they have somewhat unwisely, permitted the clubs to invade too successfully their territory, St. James"s Square may be looked upon as our Faubourg St. Germain, and a great patrician residing there dwells in the heart of that free and n.o.ble life of which he ought to be a part.
A marble hall and a marble staircase, lofty chambers with silk or tapestried hangings, gilded cornices, and painted ceilings, gave a glimpse of almost Venetian splendor, and rare in our metropolitan houses of this age; but the first dwellers in St. James"s Square had tender and inspiring recollections of the Adrian bride, had frolicked in St.
Mark"s, and glided in adventurous gondolas. The monsignore was ushered into a chamber bright with lights and a blazing fire, and welcomed with extreme cordiality by his hostess, who was then alone. Lady St. Jerome was still the young wife of a n.o.bleman not old. She was the daughter of a Protestant house, but, during a residence at Rome after her marriage, she had reverted to the ancient faith, which she professed with the enthusiastic convictions of a convert. Her whole life was dedicated to the triumph of the Catholic cause; and, being a woman of considerable intelligence and of an ardent mind, she had become a recognized power in the great confederacy which has so much influenced the human race, and which has yet to play perhaps a mighty part in the fortunes of the world.
"I was in great hopes that the cardinal would have met you at dinner,"
said Lady St. Jerome, "but he wrote only this afternoon to say unexpected business would prevent him, but he would be here in the evening, though late."
"It must be something sudden, for I was with his eminence this morning, and he then contemplated our meeting here."
"Nothing from abroad?"
"I should think not, or it would be known to me. There is nothing new from abroad this afternoon: my time has been spent in writing, not receiving, dispatches."
"And all well, I hope?"
"This Scotch business plagues us. So far as Scotland is concerned, it is quite ripe; but the cardinal counsels delay on account of this country, and he has such a consummate knowledge of England, that--"
At this moment Lord St Jerome entered the room--a grave but gracious personage, polished but looking silent, though he immediately turned the conversation to the weather. The monsignore began denouncing English fogs; but Lord St. Jerome maintained that, on the whole, there were not more fogs in England than in any other country; "and as for the French,"
he added, "I like their audacity, for, when they revolutionized the calendar, they called one of their months Brumaire."
Then came in one of his lordships chaplains, who saluted the monsignore with reverence, and immediately afterward a beautiful young lady, his niece, Clare Arundel.