"It would look as though we had frightened you away, and that I will not imagine," added her sister archly.
So Sempaly stayed; only, perhaps, from the impulse that so often prompts us to drink a bitter cup to the dregs.
"Pray command yourself a little, Zini," whispered Cecil to his sister.
"The interruption is unpleasant; but you should not show your annoyance so plainly."
Tea was now brought in; Sterzl devoted himself in an exemplary manner to his cousin Slawa, so as to give his spoilt little sister as much liberty as possible. Slawa treated him with the greatest condescension and kept glancing over her huge j.a.panese fan at Sempaly, who was sitting by Zinka on a small sofa, taciturn and ill-pleased, while he helped her to pour out the tea.
Baroness Wolnitzka gulped down one cup after another, eat up almost all the tea-cake, and never ceased an endless medley of chatter. The young Pole sat brooding gloomily, ostentatiously refused all food and spoke not a word; his arms crossed on his breast he sat the image of the Dignity of Man on the defensive.
"I am desperately hungry," Madame Wolnitzka confessed. "We are at a very good hotel--Hotel della Stella, in Via della Pace; we were told of it by a priest with whom we met on our journey. It is not absolutely first-cla.s.s--still, only people of the highest rank frequent it; two Polish counts dined at the table d"hote and a French marquise;--in her case I must own I thought I could smell a rat--I suspect she is running away with her lover from her husband, or from her creditors."
Out of deference to the "highest rank" the baroness had put her hand up to her mouth on the side nearest to the young people as she made this edifying communication. "The dinner was very good," she went on, "capital, and we pay six francs a day for our board."
"Seven," corrected Slawa.
"Six, Slawa."
"Seven, mamma."
And a discussion of the deepest interest to the rest of the party ensued between the mother and daughter as to this important point.
Slawa remained master of the field; "and with wax-lights and service it comes to eight," she added triumphantly.
"I let her talk," whispered her mother, again directing her words with her hand, "she is very peculiar in that way; everything cheap she thinks must be bad. However, what I was going to say was that, to tell the truth, I did not get enough to eat at dinner--there were flowers on the table,"--and she reached herself a slice of plum-cake.
At this moment the door opened to admit Count Siegburg.
"Good evening," he began--"seeing you so brightly lighted up I could not resist the temptation to come in and see how you were spending your Ash-Wednesday."
He glanced around at the three strangers and instantly grasped the situation; but, far from taking the tragical view of it, he at once determined to get as much fun out of it as possible. After being introduced he placed himself in a position from which he could command the whole party, Sempaly included, and converse both with Madame Wolnitzka and her daughter. He addressed himself first to the latter.
"The name of Wolnitzky is known to fame," he said.
"Yes, my father played a distinguished part in forty-eight," replied Slawa.
"Siegburg--Siegburg?..." Madame Wolnitzka was meanwhile murmuring to herself. "Which of the Siegburgs? The Siegburgs of Budow, or of Waldau, or ...?"
"The Waldau branch," said Baroness Sterzl. "His mother was a Princess Hag," and she leaned back on her cushions.
"Ah! the Waldau Siegburgs! quite the best Siegburgs!" remarked her sister in a tone of astonishment.
"Of course," replied Baroness Sterzl with great coolness, as though she had never in her life spoken to anyone less than "the best Siegburgs."
Madame Wolnitzka arranged her broad face in the most affable wrinkles she could command, and sat smiling at the young count, watching for an opportunity of putting in a word. For the present, however, this did not offer, for her sister addressed her, asking, in a bitter-sweet voice:
"And what made you decide on coming to Rome?"
"Can you ask? I have wished for years to see Rome, and you wrote so kindly and so constantly, Clotilde--so at length ..." and here followed the history of the Bernini. "You remember our Bernini, Clotilde?"
Her sister nodded.
"Well, I had the Apollo, the head only, a copy by Bernini. It is a work of art that has been in our family for generations," she continued, turning to Siegburg as she saw that he was listening to her narrative.
"For centuries," added Madame Sterzl.
"I must confess that I could hardly bear to part with it," her sister went on. "However, I made up my mind to do so when Tulpe, the great antiquary from Vienna, came one day and bid for it."
Sterzl, to whom the G.o.d"s wanderings were known, made some allusion to them in his dry way; on which the Baroness Wolnitzka shuffled herself a little nearer to Siegburg and addressed herself to him.
"You see, count, it was something like what often happens with a girl: you drag her about to b.a.l.l.s for years, take her from one watering-place to another, and never get her off your hands; then you settle down quietly at home and suddenly, when you least expect it, a suitor turns up. I could hardly bear to see the last of the bust I a.s.sure you."
"It must indeed have been a harrowing parting," said Siegburg with much feeling.
"Terrible!" said the baroness, "and doubly painful because"--and here she leaned over to whisper in Siegburg"s ear--"Slawa is so amazingly like the Bernini. Does not her likeness to the Apollo strike you?"
"I saw it at once--as soon as I came in," Siegburg declared without hesitation.
"Every one says so--well then, you can understand what a sacrifice it was ... it cuts me to the heart only to think of it. Oh! these great emotions! Excuse me if I take off my cap ..." and she hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed off the black lace structure and pa.s.sing her fingers through her thin grey hair with the vehemence of a genius she exclaimed: "Merciful G.o.d!
How we poor women are ill-used! crushed, fettered ..."
"Yes, a woman"s lot is not a happy one;" said Siegburg sympathetically.
"You are quite an original!" exclaimed her sister, giggling rather uncomfortably--for in good society it is quite understood that when we are suffering under relations devoid of manners, and whom, if we dared, we should shut up at once in a mad-house, we may do what we can to render them harmless by ticketing them with this t.i.tle--"Quite an original. Are you still always ready to break a lance for the emanc.i.p.ation of our s.e.x?"
"No," replied Madame Wolnitzka, "no, my dear Clotilde, I have given that up. Since I learnt by experience that every woman is ready to set aside the idea of emanc.i.p.ation as soon as she has a chance of marrying I have lost my sympathy with the cause."
"The emanc.i.p.ation of women of course can only be interesting to those who cannot marry," observed Sterzl, who had not long since read an article on this much ventilated question.
"And as there are undoubtedly more women than men in the world, legalized polygamy is the only solution of the difficulty," his aunt a.s.serted.
"Mamma! you really are!..." said Slawa with an angry flare.
"Your views are necessarily petty and narrow," retorted her mother. "If I were speaking of the subject in a light and frivolous tone I could understand your indignation; but I am looking at the matter from a philosophical point of view--you understand me, I am sure, Count Siegburg."
"Perfectly, my dear madam," Siegburg a.s.sured her with grave dignity.
"You look at the question from the point of national and political economy and from that point of view improprieties have no existence."
Sempaly sat twirling his moustache; Zinka first blushed and then turned pale, while the mistress of the house patted her sister on the shoulder, saying with a sharp, awkward laugh: "Quite an original--quite an original."
But Sterzl, seeing that Siegburg was excessively entertained by the old woman"s absurdities, and was on the point of amusing himself still further at her expense by laying some fresh trap for her folly, happily bethought him that the only way to procure silence would be to ask Slawa to sing. So he begged his cousin to give them some national air.
Siegburg joined in the request, but Slawa tried to excuse herself on a variety of pretexts: the piano was too low, the room was bad to sing in, and so forth and so forth ... at last, however, she was persuaded to sing some patriotic songs in which Matuschowsky accompanied her.
Her tall, Walkure-like figure swayed and trembled with romantic emotion, and faithful to the traditions of the "_art fremissant_"--the thrilling school--she held a piece of music fast in both hands for the sake of effect, though it had not the remotest connection with the song she was singing. Her mother sat in breathless silence; tears of admiration ran down her cheeks; like many other mothers, she only recognized those of Slawa"s defects which came into conflict with her own idiosyncracy and admired everything else. When Slawa had shouted the last verse of the latest revolutionary ditty, which would have been prohibited in forty-eight, and Sterzl was still asking himself whether it was worse to listen to the mother"s tongue or the daughter"s singing, Matuschowsky, whose chagrin at the small approval bestowed on his and Slawa"s musical efforts had reached an unendurable pitch, observed that it was growing late and that the ladies must be needing rest after all their exertions and fatigues. Madame Wolnitzka hastened to devour the last slice of tea-cake, brushed the crumbs away from her purple satin lap on to the carpet, rose slowly, and made her way with many bows and courtesies towards the door, taking at least half an hour before she was fairly gone.
When his relatives had at length disappeared Sterzl accompanied the two gentlemen, who had also bid the ladies good-night, into the hall, and said good-humoredly to Siegburg:
"You, I fancy, are the only one of the party who has really enjoyed the evening." Siegburg colored; then looking up frankly at his friend he said: "You are not offended?"