Beatrice Boville and Other Stories

patient callers whom he couldn't satisfy, and a certain Amadeus Levi, who, having helped him to the payment of those deb

eps to Lowndes Square. Valérie L'Estrange was sitting at a Davenport, done out of her Watteau costume into very becoming English morning dress; he had only time to shake hands with her before Bella and her mamma set upon him. Miss Cashranger had a great admiration for him, and, though his want of money was a drawback, the royal gule

raphy!' Oh, thank y

ht to have saved your life at least. What are you doing here;

agreeable. I am writing dinner invita

she answer t

ien,'" she answered, wit

fied her words: "Val, Puppet's scratch

ets for his trouble, smiled a smile that made Miss Cashranger color, and looked searchingly at Valérie to s

comm

rice, comme feuilletonniste-j'ai mes rêves, monsieur-

briefly, as he took up the autobi

dozen women one after the other. That I would pardon him; most

wasn't so silly as to go in for a never-ending, heart-burning,

usly, "I suppose if he had been of the natur

the fire, can't I, if I

e fire, and set you in flames, whe

e luckless day inebriate with eau-de-Cologne, or more unpoetic porter, are cured and disenchanted, wait ten years with Christines and Minna Herzliebs in the interim, and wind up with a rich widow, who keeps us straight and heads our table. You, fresh from the school-room, fasten on some lachrymose curate, or flirting dragoon, as the object of your early romances, walk with him unde

ou don't know the common A B C of love. You m

ere's a good deal more leather-work tha

; but there is some gold t

oy; it can't be

ore men's touch has soiled it. So I believe in some hearts, undefiled by the breath of conv

smiling at her impetuous earnestness. "You ar

ade myself the loveliest wreath yesterday; quite as pretty as Bella buys at Mitc

ldn't do-what do you call it?-plain wor

, expressive of entire rep

er; you flame up very hot and bright for a moment, but 'the sparks fly upward and expir

uickly, "we are like wood fires, a

io,'" said Bella, turning round, with an angry light in h

pastels, and water-colors, he lingered as long as he could, till the clock reminded him that it was time to walk on into Eaton Square, where he was going to dine at his father's. The governor excepted, Falkenstein had little rapport with his family. His brother was as chilly disagreeable in private life as he was popularly considered irreproachable in public, and as pragmatical and uncharitable as your immaculate individuals ordinarily are. His sisters were cold, conventional women, as utterly incapable of appreciating him as of

id, his sisters took up, contradicted, and jarred upon, till he, fairly out of patience, lapsed into silence, only broken by a sarcasm deftly flung at Maximillian to floor him completely in his orthodoxy or ethics. He was glad to bid

ssing himself. "If people choose to dictate to me or misjudge me, let them go; and if they

the old Count, and felt keenly his desertion; for, steel himself as he might, egotist as he m

omen he had wooed, and won, and left, certain passages in his life where such had reproached him, not always deservedly, never presented themselves to check him in his new pursuit. I

fter seeing somebody she knew standing by the pond throwing in sticks for his retriever, and Falkenstein had sat down with her under the bushes by the water, and talked of all the things in heaven and earth; while Julius Adolphus ran about and gobbled at the China geese, and wetted his silk stockings unreproved. He made no love to her, not a bit; he talked of it theoretically, but never practically. But he liked to talk to her, to argue with her, to see her

ebts and entanglements imperceptibly gathered round him, held him tight, and only in Valérie's li

t, when he was dining with Bevan, Tom produced those two little ivory fiends, whose rattle is in the ear of watchful deans and proctors as the singing of the rattlesnake, and whose witchery is more wily and irresistible than the witchery of woman. No beaux yeux, whether of the cassette or of one's first love, ev

Falkenstein had lost, "I heard Max lamenting to old Straitlace in the lobby, the other night, that

with a short laugh, "if for devi

rs, who, I believe, don't know Latakia from Maryland. Jesse Egerton told me the other day that his wife has an awful life of it; but who'd cre

under the rose. John Bull takes his vices as a ten pound voter takes a bribe; he stretches his hand out eagerly enough, but he turns his eyes away and looks innocent, and is the first to point at his n

g little girl you were walking with by the Serpentine yesterday morning, when I was waiting for the Metcalfe, who promised to meet me at twelve, and never came til

's cousin. He's met her there every day for the last three months

aid Falkenstein, impatiently. "I never made an appointment wi

ith her, because it was utterly unnecessary, he knowing perfectly that he should fi

Max such a handle as he would not let go in a hurry; And to marry (though that of course, will never enter your wildest dreams) with anybody of the Cashranger's

ll it, is not so extraordinarily stainless; but leave Valérie alone, she and I have nothing to do with other,

orester proposed to her, but I don't suppo

ed up quickly, b

r he used to cry her up to the skies, and now he's always snapping and sneeri

les you hear," said Godolphin. "She'd better know you disclaim he

areful over her interests," he said, sharply, "but I never heard that having her on

budding their first leaves, he saw what he expected to see-Valérie L'Estrange. She turned-even at that distance he thought he saw the longs yeux bleus flash and sparkle-d

hether you would come this morning. I am so glad you have, for I have been reading your 'Pollni

rather formally. He was wondering in his m

y unkind of you to answer me so. What i

he had a fervent reverence for his historic antécédens; and besides, as

at all, I assure you," he

ents," persisted Valérie. "You should

did not speak, as he sat down by he

ushing Spit's hair off his bright little eye

en netting their toils round me for many years-that is all. I am young enough, as time counts, yet I give yo

"You are so worthy of happiness; your nature was made to b

my folly is now working itself out. I have made my ow

on, opportunity, association, often take the place of

y obstacle, and for what I desired, I would, like the men in the old legends, have sold myself to the devil. Now, of course, I am hampered with ten thousand embarrassments. You are young; you are a woman; you cannot understand the reckless madness which will drink the wine to-day,

as you have done, drunk the ambrosia without heeding its cost. Go on-I love to hear you speak of yourself; and I know your real nat

. He turned it off with a laugh. "By Heaven, I wish they had made a

ratic leanings. "What an absurd idea! All the old Falkensteins would come out of thei

he coronet! I had better have

. You do not mean it; you know you are proud of your glorious name. Who would n

d not need. As it is, if I except poor Tom Bevan, who's as hard up as I am, and who's a good-hearted, single-minded fellow, and likes me, I believe I haven't a friend. Godolphin welcomes me as a companion, a bon vivant,

ed and heartless, and I hate them all. Oh! Count Waldemar, I

st," he muttered, half aloud, as he rose hastily and took out his watch. "I must be in Downing Street by eleven,