"I found him calm and sanguine," said the general.

"What of the woman?"

"Garibaldi will not move without the Savoyard, and Mary-Anne will not move without Garibaldi; that is the situation."

"Have you seen her?"

"Not yet; I have been to Caprera, and I have come over to see her and you. Italy is ready for the move, and is only waiting for the great man.

He will not act without the Savoyard; he believes in him. I will not be skeptical. There are difficulties enough without imagining any. We have no money, and all our sources of supply are drained; but we have the inspiration of a sacred cause, we have you--we may gain others--and, at any rate, the French are no longer at Rome."

CHAPTER 33

"The Goodwood Cup, my lord--the Doncaster. This pair of flagons for his highness the Khedive--something quite new--yes, parcel-gilt, the only style now--it gives relief to design--yes, by Monti, a great man, hardly inferior to Flaxman, if at all. Flaxman worked for. Rundell and Bridge in the old days--one of the princ.i.p.al causes of their success. Your lordship's gold service was supplied by Rundell and Bridge. Very fine service indeed, much by Flaxman--nothing of that kind seen now."

"I never did see it," said Lothair. He was replying to Mr. Ruby, a celebrated jeweller and goldsmith, in a celebrated street, who had saluted him when he had entered the shop, and called the attention of Lothair to a group of treasures of art.

"Strange," said Mr. Ruby smiling. "It is in the next room, if your lordship would like to see it. I think your lordship should see your gold service. Mr. Putney Giles ordered it here to be examined and put in order."

"I should like to see it very much," said Lothair, "though I came to speak to you about something else."

And so Lothair, following Mr. Ruby into an inner apartment, had the gratification, for the first time, of seeing his own service of gold plate laid out in completeness, and which had been for some time exhibited to the daily admiration of that favored portion of the English people who frequent the brilliant and glowing counters of Mr. Ruby.

Not that Lothair was embarra.s.sed by their presence at this moment. The hour of their arrival had not yet come. Business had not long commenced when Lothair entered the shop, somewhat to the surprise of its master.

Those who know Bond Street only in the blaze of fashionable hours can form but an imperfect conception of its matutinal charm when it is still shady and fresh--when there are no carriages, rarely a cart, and pa.s.sers-by gliding about on real business. One feels as in some Continental city. Then there are time and opportunity to look at the shops; and there is no street in the world that can furnish such a collection, filled with so many objects of beauty, curiosity, and interest. The jewellers and goldsmiths and dealers in rare furniture, porcelain, and cabinets, and French pictures, have long fixed upon Bond Street as their favorite quarter, and are not chary of displaying their treasures; though it may be a question whether some of the magazines of fancy food--delicacies culled from all the climes and regions of the globe--particularly at the matin hour, may not, in their picturesque variety, be the most attractive. The palm, perhaps, would be given to the fish-mongers, with their exuberant exhibitions, grouped with skill, startling often with strange forms, dazzling with prismatic tints, and breathing the invigorating redolence of the sea.

"Well, I like the service," said Lothair, "and am glad, as you tell me, that its fashion has come round again, because there will now be no necessity for ordering a new one. I do not myself much care for plate.

I like flowers and porcelain on a table, and I like to see the guests.

However, I suppose it is all right, and I must use it. It was not about plate that I called; I wanted to speak to you about pearls."

"Ah!" said Mr. Ruby, and his face brightened; and, ushering Lothair to some gla.s.s cases, he at the same time provided his customer with a seat.

"Something like that?" said Mr. Ruby, who by this time had slid into his proper side of the counter, and was unlocking the gla.s.s cases; "something like that?" and he placed before Lothair a string of pretty pearls with a diamond clasp. "With the earrings, twenty-five hundred,"

he added; and then, observing that Lothair did not seem enchanted, he said, "This is something quite new," and he carelessly pushed toward Lothair a magnificent necklace of turquoises and brilliants.

It was impossible not to admire it--the arrangement was so novel and yet of such good taste; but, though its price was double that of the pearl necklace, Mr. Ruby did not seem to wish to force attention to it, for he put in Lothair's hands almost immediately the finest emerald necklace in the world, and set in a style that was perfectly ravishing.

"The setting is from the Campana collection," said Mr. Ruby. "They certainly understood things in those days, but I can say that, so far as mere workmanship is concerned, this quite equals them. I have made one for the empress. Here is a black pearl, very rare, pear-shape, and set in Golconda diamonds--two thousand guineas--it might be suspended to a necklace, or worn as a locket. This is pretty," and he offered to Lothair a gigantic sapphire in brilliants and in the form of a bracelet.

"The finest sapphire I know is in this ring," added Mr. Ruby, and he introduced his visitor to a tray of precious rings. "I have a pearl bracelet here that your lordship might like to see," and he placed before Lothair a case of fifty bracelets, vying with each other in splendor.

"But what I want," said Lothair, "are pearls."

"I understand," said Mr. Ruby. "This is a curious thing," and he took out a paper packet. "There!" he said, opening it and throwing it before Lothair so carelessly that some of the stones ran over the gla.s.s covering of the counter. "There, that is a thing, not to be seen every day--packet of diamonds, bought of an Indian prince, and sent by us to be cut and polished at Amsterdam--nothing can be done in that way except there--and just returned--nothing very remarkable as to size, but all of high quality--some fine stones--that for example," and he touched one with the long nail of his little finger; "that is worth seven hundred guineas, the whole packet worth perhaps ten thousand pounds."

"Very interesting," said Lothair, "but what I want are pearls. That necklace which you have shown me is like the necklace of a doll. I want pearls, such as you see them in Italian pictures--t.i.tians and Giorgiones--such as a Queen of Cyprus would wear. I want ropes of pearls."

"Ah!" said Mr. Ruby, "I know what your lordship means. Lady Bideford had something of that kind. She very much deceived us--always told us her necklace must be sold at her death, and she had very bad health. We waited, but when she went, poor lady, it was claimed by the heir, and is in chancery at this very moment. The Justinianis have ropes of pearls--Madame Justiniani of Paris, I have been told, gives a rope to every one of her children when they marry--but there is no expectation of a Justiniani parting with any thing. Pearls are troublesome property, my lord. They require great care; they want both air and exercise; they must be worn frequently; you cannot lock them up. The d.u.c.h.ess of Havant has the finest pearls in this country, and I told her grace, 'Wear them whenever you can; wear them at breakfast,' and her grace follows my advice--she does wear them at breakfast. I go down to Havant Castle every year to see her grace's pearls, and I wipe every one of them myself, and let them lie on a sunny bank in the garden, in a westerly wind, for hours and days together. Their complexion would have been ruined had it not been for this treatment. Pearls are like girls, my lord--they require quite as much attention."

"Then you cannot give me what I want?" said Lothair.

"Well, I can, and I cannot," said Mr. Ruby. "I am in a difficulty.

I have in this house exactly what your lordship requires, but I have offered them to Lord Topaz, and I have not received his answer. We have instructions to inform his lordship of every very precious jewel that we obtain, and give him the preference as a purchaser. Nevertheless, there is no one I could more desire to oblige than your lordship--your lordship has every claim upon us, and I should be truly glad to find these pearls in your lordship's possession if I could only see my way.

Perhaps your lordship would like to look at them?"

"Certainly, but pray do not leave me here alone with all these treasures," said Lothair, as Mr. Ruby was quitting the apartment.

"Oh! my lord, with you!"

"Yes, that is all very well; but, if any thing is missed hereafter, it will always be remembered that these jewels were in my possession, and I was alone. I highly object to it." But Mr. Ruby had vanished, and did not immediately reappear. In the mean time it was impossible for Lothair to move: he was alone, and surrounded with precious necklaces, and glittering rings, and gorgeous bracelets, with loose diamonds running over the counter. It was not a kind or an amount of property that Lothair, relinquishing the trust, could satisfactorily deliver to a shopman. The shopman, however honest, might be suddenly tempted by Satan, and take the next train to Liverpool. He felt therefore relieved when Mr. Ruby reentered the room, breathless, with a velvet casket. "I beg pardon, my lord, a thousand pardons, but I thought I would just run over to Lord Topaz, only in the square close by. His lordship is at Madrid, the only city one cannot depend on communications with by telegraph. Spaniards strange people, very prejudiced, take all sorts of fancies in their head. Besides, Lord Topaz has more pearls than he can know what to do with, and I should like your lordship to see these," and he opened the casket.

"Exactly what I want," exclaimed Lothair; "these must be the very pearls the Queen of Cyprus wore. What is their price?"

"They are from Genoa, and belonged to a doge," said Mr. Ruby; "your lordship shall have them for the sum we gave for them. There shall be no profit on the transaction, and we shall be proud of it. We gave for them four thousand guineas."

"I will take them with me," said Lothair, who was afraid, if lie left them behind, Lord Topaz might arrive in the interval.

CHAPTER 34

Lothair had returned home from his last visit to Belmont agitated by many thoughts, but, generally speaking, deeply musing over its mistress.

Considerable speculation on religion, the churches, the solar system, the cosmical order, the purpose of creation, and the destiny of man, was maintained in his too rapid progress from Roehampton to his Belgravian hotel; but the a.s.sociation of ideas always terminated the consideration of every topic by a wondering and deeply interesting inquiry when he should see her again. And here, in order to simplify this narrative, we will at once chronicle the solution of this grave question. On the afternoon of the next day, Lothair mounted his horse with the intention of calling on Lady St. Jerome, and perhaps some other persons, but it is curious to observe that he soon found himself on the road to Roehampton, where he was in due time paying a visit to Theodora. But what is more remarkable is that the same result occurred every day afterward.

Regularly every day he paid a visit to Belmont. Nor was this all; very often he paid two visits, for he remembered that in the evening Theodora was always at home. Lothair used to hurry to town from his morning visit, dine at some great house, which satisfied the demands of society, and then drive down to Roehampton. The guests of the evening saloon, when they witnessed the high ceremony of Lothair's manner, which was natural to him, when he entered, and the welcome of Theodora, could hardly believe that a few hours only had elapsed since their separation.

And what was the manner of Theodora to him when they were alone?

Precisely as before. She never seemed in the least surprised that he called on her every day, or even twice a day. Sometimes she was alone, frequently she had companions, but she was always the same, always appeared gratified at his arrival, and always extended to him the same welcome, graceful and genial, but without a spark of coquetry. Yet she did not affect to conceal that she took a certain interest in him, because she was careful to introduce him to distinguished men, and would say, "You should know him, he is master of such a subject. You will hear things that you ought to know." But all this in a sincere and straightforward manner. Theodora had not the slightest affectation; she was always natural, though a little reserved. But this reserve appeared to be the result of modesty, rather than of any desire of concealment.

When they were alone, though always calm, she would talk with freedom and vivacity; but in the presence of others she rather led to their display, and encouraged them, often with a certain degree of adroit simplicity, to descant on topics which interested theme or of which they were competent to treat. Alone with Lothair, and they were often alone, though she herself never obtruded the serious subjects round which he was always fluttering, she never avoided them, and without involving herself in elaborate arguments, or degenerating into conversational controversy, she had a habit of asking a question, or expressing a sentiment, which greatly affected his feelings or perplexed his opinions.

Had not the season been long waning, this change in the life of Lothair must have been noticed, and its cause ultimately discovered. But the social critics cease to be observant toward the end of July. All the world then are thinking of themselves, and have no time to speculate on the fate and fortunes of their neighbors. The campaign is too near its.

close; the balance of the season must soon be struck, the great book of society made. In a few weeks, even in a few days, what long and subtle plans shattered or triumphant!--what prizes gained or missed!--what baffled hopes, and what broken hearts! The baffled hopes must go to Cowes, and the broken hearts to Baden. There were some great ladies who did remark that Lothair was seldom seen at b.a.l.l.s; and Hugo Bohun, who had been staying at his aunt Lady Gertrude's villa for change of air, did say to Bertram that he had met Lothair twice on Barnes Common, and asked Bertram if he knew the reason why. But the fact that Lothair was cruising in waters which their craft never entered combined with the lateness of the season to baffle all the ingenuity of Hugo Bohun, though he generally found out every thing.

The great difficulty which Lothair had to apprehend was with his Roman Catholic friends. The system of the monsignori was never to let him be out of sight, and his absence from the critical function had not only disappointed but alarmed them. But the Jesuits are wise men; they never lose their temper. They know when to avoid scenes as well as when to make them. Monsignore Catesby called on Lothair as frequently as before, and never made the slightest allusion to the miscarriage of their expectations. Strange to say, the innocent Lothair, naturally so straightforward and so honorable, found himself instinctively, almost it might be said unconsciously, defending himself against his invaders with some of their own weapons. He still talked about building his cathedral, of which, not contented with more plans, he even gave orders that a model should be made, and he still received statements on points of faith from Father Coleman, on which he made marginal notes and queries.

Monsignore Catesby was not altogether satisfied. He was suspicious of some disturbing cause, but at present it baffled him. Their hopes, however, were high; and they had cause to be sanguine. In a month's time or so, Lothair would be in the country to celebrate his majority; his guardian the cardinal was to be his guest; the St. Jeromes were invited, Monsignore Catesby himself. Here would be opportunity and actors to avail themselves of it.

It was a very few days after the first evening visit of Lothair to Belmont that he found himself one morning alone with Theodora. She was in her bowery boudoir, copying some music for Madame Phoebus, at least in the intervals of conversation. That had not been of a grave character, but the contrary when Lothair rather abruptly said, "Do you agree, Mrs. Campian, with what Mr. Phoebus said the other night, that the greatest pain must be the sense of death?"

"Then mankind is generally spared the greatest pain," she replied, "for I apprehend few people are sensible of death--unless indeed," she added, "it be on the field of battle; and there, I am sure, it cannot be painful."

"Not on the field of battle?" asked Lothair, inducing her to proceed.

"Well, I should think for all, on the field of battle, there must be a degree of excitement, and of sympathetic excitement, scarcely compatible with overwhelming suffering; but, if death were encountered there for a great cause, I should rather a.s.sociate it with rapture than pain."

"But still a good number of persons must die in their beds and be conscious," said Lothair.