The Way We Live Now

ver since Parliament met, now about a fortnight since. Some people had expressed an opinion that such a ball as this was intended to be could not be given successfully in February. Others declared

Alfred's second son, had been appointed to some mercantile position, for which he received a salary which his most intimate friends thought that he was hardly qualified to earn. It was certainly a fact that he went to Abchurch Lane, in the City, four or five days a week, and that he did not occupy his time in so unaccustomed a manner for nothing. Where the Duchess of Stevenage went all the world would go. And it became known at the last moment, that is to say only the day before the party, that a prince of the blood royal was to be there. How this had been achieved nobody quite understood; but there were rumours that a certain lady's jewels had been rescued from th

t been known as M. Melmotte. But he had declared of himself that he had been born in England, and that he was an Englishman. He admitted that his wife was a foreigner - an admission that was necessary as she spoke very little English. Melmotte himself spoke his 'native' language fluently, but with an accent which betrayed at least a lon

he iron in England. He could make or mar any company by buying or selling stock, and could make money dear or cheap as he pleased. All this was said of him in his praise - but it was also said that he was regarded in Paris as the most gigantic swindler that had ever lived; that he had made that City too hot to hold him; that he had endeavoured to establish himself in Vienna, but had been warned away by the

purse-proud and a bully. She was fat and fair - unlike in colour to our traditional Jewesses; but she had the Jewish nose and the Jewish contraction of the eyes. There was certainly very little in Madame Melmotte to recommend her, unless it was a readiness to spend money on any object that might be suggested to her by her new acquaintances. It sometimes seemed that she had a commission from her husband to give a

had either jilted or been jilted. As in royal espousals interests of State regulate their expedience with an acknowledged absence, with even a proclaimed impossibility, of personal predilections, so in this case was money allowed to have the same weight. Such a marriage would or would not be sanctioned in accordance with great pecuniary arrangements. The young Lord Nidderdale, the eldest son of the Marquis of Auld Reekie, had offered to take the girl and make her Marchioness in the process of time for half a million down. Melmotte had not objected to the sum - so it was said - but had proposed to tie it up. Nidderdale had desired to have it free in his own grasp, and would not move on any other terms. Me

became less necessary, and Melmotte reduced his offers. The girl herself, too, began to have an opinion. It was said that she had absolutely rejected Lord Grasslough, whose father indeed was in a state of bankruptcy, who had no income of his own, who was ugly, vicious, ill-tempered, and without any power of recommending himself to a gi

er at all. Altogether the mystery was rather pleasant as the money was certain. Of the certainty of the money in daily use there could be no doubt. There was the house. There was the furniture. There were the carriages, the horses, the servants with the livery coats and powdered heads, and the servants with the black coats and unpowdered heads.

arranged that it was impossible to know where you were, when once in it. The hall was a paradise. The staircase was fairyland. The lobbies were grottoes rich with ferns. Walls had been knocked away and arches had been constructed. The leads behind had been supported and walled in, and covered and carpeted. The ball had possession of the ground floor and first floor, and the house seemed to be endless. 'It's to cost sixty thousand pounds,' said the Marchioness of Auld Reekie to her old friend t

d the Melmottes; which was as it should be, as each could give much and each receive much. It was known that Lord Alfred had not a shilling; but his brother was a duke and his sister was a duchess, and for the last thirty years there had been one continual anxiety for poor dear Alfred, who had tumbled into an unfortunate marriage without a shilling, had spent his own moderate patrimony, had three sons and three daughters, and had lived now for a very long time entirely on the unwilling contributio

hy, and not given to dancing. But he had allowed his mother to prevail. 'Of course they are vulgar,' the Duchess had said - 'so much so as to be no longer distasteful because of the absurdity of the thing. I dare say he hasn't been very honest. When men make so much money, I don't know how they can have been honest. Of course it

e a long time,' sai

dance with the girl once.' Lord Buntingford dis

gamble, never playing for more than the club stakes and bets. He gave to the matter his whole mind, and must have excelled those who were generally opposed to him. But so obdurate was fortune to Lord Alfred that he could not make money even of whist. Melmotte was very anxious to get into Lord Alfred's club - The Peripatetics. It was pleasant to see the grace with which he lost his money, and the sweet intimacy with which he called his lordship Alfred. Lord Alfred had a remnant of feeling left, and would have liked to kick him. Though Melmotte was by far the bigger man, and was also the younger, Lord Alfred would

; nor was Henrietta. But Felix had suggested that, bearing in mind his prospects as to the heiress, they had better accept the invitation which he would cause to have sent to them. They did so; and then Paul Montague also got a card, not altogether

ever was at in London,' said H

do you

understand how it is that at these parties people do know eac

backwards and forwards, and then they can know each other as fast a

d with you -

aw against danc

oor mamma, who has got nobody to speak to her.' Just at this moment, however, Lady Car

ght be his due, it is necessary to say that he did not lack physical activity. He would dance, and ride, and shoot eagerly, with an animation that made him happy for the moment. It was an affair no

hated, though at first she had hardly dared to say so. One or two others had been obnoxious to her in different ways, but they had passed on, or were passing on, out of her way. There was no one at the present moment whom she had been commanded by her father to accept should an offer be made. But she did like dancing with Sir Felix Carbury. It was not only that the man was handsome but that he had a power of changing the expression of his countenance, a play of face, which belied altogether his real disposition. He

d Sir Felix, as soon as h

gave a little prettiness to her speech. 'I was never t

verything about yourself, fr

t you do

e some good guesses. I'll tell you wha

is t

iked you best in

; if one

, Miss Melmotte,

liked me better than any other girl, I should not know it

entleman to

find out. But I should like to have some girl for a fri

shou

no particu

ould love - oh, ten tim

g at me, Sir Felix,'

Miss Carbury. They had come back into the drawing-room, and had been

elmotte. I hate to think o

magnificent c

ust because she will have a great deal of money? H

ere is no other condition of things under which Felix can

eadful thi

rue? He has beg

r Mont

beggar you an

care abou

t look at her, but spoke through his teeth, a

would have spoken s

of money to spend, I think it would be a good thing if he were to marry her. If Felix had ￡20,000 a year, everybody would think him the finest fellow in the world.' In saying this, h

complaining solitude under a bust, when she was delighted

te and I are bro

you would find so lit

that, duchesses and their daughters wit

th

im in some jewelled bower as I made my way here, not five minutes sin

ther you are joki

nding thousands upon thousands to gratify you and me and o

an to give

iving i

f the "Evening Pulpit." Do

es and to record ladies' dresses. Perhaps it may be better for

vere upon poor me, Mr Alf?'

ince. What will they do with him now they've caught him! Oh, t

e!' said La

and he'll have nothing to trouble him. But h

were four other couples, all made up of titled people, as it was intended that this special dance should be chronicled, if not in the 'Evening Pulpit,' in some less serious daily journal. A paid reporter was present in the house ready to rush off with the list as soon as the dance should be a realized fact. The Prince himself did not quite understand why he was there, but they who marshalled his life for him had so marshalled it for the present moment. He himself probably knew nothing about the lady's diamonds which had been rescued, or the considerable subscription to St. George's Hospital which had been extracted from Mr Melmotte as a make-weight. Poor Marie felt as though the burden of the hour would be greater than she could bear, and looked as though she would have fled had flight been possible. But the trouble passed quickly, and was not really severe. The Prince said a word or two between each figure, and did not seem to expect a reply. He made a few words go a long way, and was well trained in the work of easing the burden of his own greatness for

said to Miles's father as the carr

tainly preferred "Sir Carbury" to any other of the young men.' Hitherto Mr Melmotte had heard very little of Sir Carbury, except that he was a baronet. Though his eyes and ears were always open, though he attended to everything, and was a man of sharp intelligence, he did not yet quite understand the bearing and sequence of English titles. He knew that he must get for his daughter either an eldest son, or one absolutely in possession himself. Sir Felix, he had learned, was only a ba

s; - don't,

the words as a lesson, and, repeating them as a lesson, he did it fairly well. He did it well enough at any rate to se