"Yes! but it was because she wished it," replied the widow. "She would be sure of partners, though she were never such a fright. All the young officers are, as a matter of course, obliged "to do the amiable" to the granddaughter of their colonel. Moreover, Francis Mordaunt is mistress of the art of attracting or repelling as it pleases her. Notwithstanding all her strange whims and caprices, she is never at a loss for a partner, and the moment she enters any ball-room she becomes the observed of all observers. The gentlemen flock round her; she is flattered, flirted with----"
"Yes, flirted with, I grant you; but not respected, I"m sure,"
interrupted the elderly spinster. "It is chiefly done to draw out her smart repartees, and the unladylike answers which have made her so famous (or rather infamous)."
"In fact everybody is amused at her scathing replies."
"Which the ladies are afraid of," said a gentleman, half jestingly, half reproachfully, "for as a rule they are as true as they are sharp."
"As a rule she makes the gentlemen the b.u.t.t of her raillery."
"How strange then, indeed, that the ladies take her part so little!" I could not help remarking.
"That is not strange, Jonker! The peculiar manner she has adopted to render herself noticeable is just the one our s.e.x cannot suffer. In all her victories we saw a defeat; the good tone was lost."
"And how did the party pa.s.s off for Miss Mordaunt in that curious dress?" I inquired, for I had less interest in carrying on a combat d"esprit with the vicious little widow than in drawing out a more complete sketch of Francis" character, though it might be coloured by slander.
"Just as she wished it, I believe. In the early part of the evening she was somewhat neglected, and this was evidently her wish, for she did nothing to prevent it; on the contrary, she had told the hostess that she had resolved not to dance, in such a loud and decided tone, that it would have been absurd for any one to invite her afterwards."
"She"s cunning enough," put in the elderly spinster. "She only said that lest afterwards she should feel ashamed of herself at the close of the party, in case no one invited her to dance."
"In fact, it requires more moral courage than the gentlemen in these parts as a rule possess to lead out a lady dressed as she was,"
interposed the widow again.
"It appears that the custom of not sparing us gentlemen is catching,"
whispered an officer, who had been introduced as Captain Sanders.
I silently bowed, for I wished to listen to Mrs. X., who continued--
"Finally, however, when the cotillon was called, she must join, and the unfortunate leader of the dance had to sacrifice himself. Lieutenant Wilibald, her grandfather"s adjutant, was obliged to take her in tow, mustering up all his courage. After showing a good deal of resistance, which appeared seriously meant, she allowed herself to be led out, but did nothing to lighten her partner"s unpleasant task. On the contrary, she was so recalcitrant, so inattentive and so awkward, that she often caused confusion, and her partner had the greatest difficulty to rectify her mistakes. Indeed, the polite young officer was pitied by the whole company, and the more so because it was known that he was sacrificing himself to a sense of duty; for he was engaged to a charming young lady who had been prevented from attending the ball by a recent death in the family."
"Pardon, madame; permit me to say that your representation of the facts is not quite correct," interrupted Captain Sanders, in whose favour I immediately became prepossessed on account of his serious and earnest look. "Allow me to set you right as to facts, for I am a friend of Lieutenant Wilibald"s, and I know he would be sorry if what you have said should go forth to the world as truth. It was by no means a disagreeable task for him to lead out Miss Mordaunt in any dress she chose to appear in, for he was too much in love with her to notice such small matters as dress. Yes, I venture to say, if it had depended on him alone he would not have married the woman he has; but he was forced by circ.u.mstances, and Miss Mordaunt did her utmost to promote the marriage and to put him in possession of a fortune."
I inwardly thanked the Captain for his chivalrous defence of the absent, and I would gladly have taken him by the hand and done so publicly, but that this would have prevented my hearing more on the subject of Francis.
"And has Miss Mordaunt been married since?" I asked, trying to put the question as disinterestedly as possible.
"Why, no!" cried the elderly spinster with a triumphant smile. "So far as we know (and we know pretty well everything that happens in our circle), she has never had an offer."
"Ah! that is very strange; a young lady who seems to be possessed of so many attractions," I observed.
"That"s not at all strange," interrupted the little widow, in a coquettish, sentimental tone. "It was never difficult for her to attract admirers and flatterers for the moment, but it is only by the heart that a woman wins true affection and esteem; and, with the Captain"s permission, no one could ever believe Francis Mordaunt to be in earnest, for she has no heart--she never cared for anything but horses and dogs."
"You forget her grandfather!" pleaded the Captain.
"Well, yes, she has been his idol; but this very fact has turned out her ruin."
"How are we to understand that remark, madame?" asked Overberg, whose jovial face grew serious.
"That he has left the girl far too much to her own whims and fancies."
"What shall I say, chere amie? He was afraid of her." (It was the elderly spinster who again began the attack.) "He could roar at his officers, but he was afraid of a scene with Francis."
"Excuse me for once more contradicting you, miss. Colonel von Zwenken never roared at his officers--this I know by experience; but it is true he was conspicuous by his absence when Francis Mordaunt went into society. He suffered her to go out when she liked, and with whom she liked. Alas! he sat at the card table in his club whilst Francis by her thoughtlessness and certain peculiarities in her character, was rendering herself a victim to calumny and envious tongues."
"Bravo, Captain! it"s n.o.ble of you to defend the absent."
"I am only sorry I cannot do so without blaming another absent person; but what I say is known, and well known, in this circle."
"As well known as the eccentricities of Major Frank. Whatever Captain Sanders may say, we are not making her conduct appear worse than it is; we are only speaking of it as it struck us at the time."
"That everybody must acknowledge," said an old lady, who had thus far listened with sparkling eyes. "Only remember what talk her conduct gave rise to when she met the stranger staying at the "Golden Salmon,"
by appointment, unknown to the Colonel, who had forbidden the man his house! Did she not set all our ideas of good breeding at defiance by walking in the plantation in open daylight with a perfect stranger."
"In fact, I am a.s.sured she p.a.w.ned her diamonds to pay his hotel bill. She even wished to sell them, for she asked a friend of mine to buy them."
Overberg"s healthy, blooming face turned pale; but he said nothing. The Captain, however, spoke again--
"It is only too true she would risk all to attain her ends, if she had once set her mind on a thing."
"And that for a person who went to a third-rate hotel--did not even give his own name, as it was said afterwards; and who certainly was a sharper or a coiner."
"If such had been the case, the police would have looked after him sharp," interposed Overberg.
"That is my opinion also," said the Captain; "and I think Wilibald Smeekens was right. He said it was some one who had formerly committed a breach of military discipline, and whom she out of pity wished to a.s.sist in getting out of the country."
"Ahem! out of pity," said the old lady. "Young ladies should be careful how they show such pity--carrying on an intrigue. I can a.s.sure you that at the time it was a question whether we ought not to banish her from our society."
"But no one dared to p.r.o.nounce the sentence of banishment," said the Captain, "for fear of the Colonel, who had it in his power to refuse the military music for the b.a.l.l.s and open-air concerts in summer. And this he certainly would have done if he had known what was hatching against his granddaughter. But the ladies were more prudent; they pulled poor Francis to pieces behind her back."
"With this result," added the elderly spinster, "that of her own accord she almost entirely withdrew from our society."
"No, there is another reason," said the widow, with a significant shake of the head; "it was not our treatment, but her own conscience which p.r.i.c.ked her after that affair with her coachman."
"Yes, you are quite right; that was a sad affair," a.s.sented the Captain, to my painful surprise.
The honourable man, who had evidently combatted calumny and slander, was now silenced. I wished to ask what had happened, but the words stuck in my throat; I felt as if they would choke me. The postmaster, however, who had just entered the room, put the question, which the tongues of the ladies were quivering with impatience to answer.
"Unfortunately, no one knows the exact particulars," began the elderly spinster, whose shrill, sharp voice made itself heard above the rest; "but it is generally believed she wished to make her coachman elope with her. Possibly she might have succeeded, but the man was already married, and when that became known----"
"She pitched him off the box whilst the horses were going at a furious rate," put in the old lady, with a demoniacal smile of pleasure.
"Others who are supposed to know, say she struck him dead with the whip," added the little widow, who must have her say. "Horrible! most horrible!" she continued, turning up her eyes with mock sentimentality.
Yes, horrible indeed, thought I, when both young ladies and old vie with each other in a wicked desire to give the coup de grace to one of their own s.e.x who has erred, or, may be, only taken one false step in life.
"I have been told," murmured another voice, "that she fought with him; and the horses taking fright, he fell from the box under their feet."
"However it happened, the truth will never be known, for he now lies in the churchyard."