Henry James: Complete Stories 1864-1874 (30 page)

Read Henry James: Complete Stories 1864-1874 Online

Authors: Henry James

Tags: #test

BOOK: Henry James: Complete Stories 1864-1874
5.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
 
Page 170
membered his Cousin Maria's habitual punctuality, but when he entered the splendid
salon
in the quarter of the Parc Monceauit was there that he had found her establishedhe saw that he should have it, for a little, to himself. This was pleasing, for he should be able to look roundthere were admirable things to look at. Even to-day Raymond Bestwick was not sure that he had learned to paint, but he had no doubt of his judgment of the work of others, and a single glance showed him that Mrs. Temperly had known enough to select, for the adornment of her walls, half a dozen immensely valuable specimens of contemporary French art. Her choice of other objects had been equally enlightened, and he remembered what Dora had said to him five years beforethat her mother wished them to have the best. Evidently, now they had got it; if five years was a long time for him to have delayed (with his original plan of getting off so soon) to come to Paris, it was a very short one for Cousin Maria to have taken to arrive at the highest good.
Rather to his surprise the first person to come in was Effie, now so complete a young lady, and such a very pretty girl, that he scarcely would have known her. She was fair, she was graceful, she was lovely, and as she entered the room, blushing and smiling, with a little floating motion which suggested that she was in a liquid element, she brushed down the ribbons of a delicate Parisian
toilette de jeune fille.
She appeared to expect that he would be surprised, and as if to justify herself for being the first she said, Mamma told me to come; she knows you are here; she said I was not to wait. More than once, while they conversed, during the next few moments, before any one else arrived, she repeated that she was acting by her mamma's directions. Raymond perceived that she had not only the costume but several other of the attributes of a
jeune fille.
They talked, I say, but with a certain difficulty, for Effie asked him no questions, and this made him feel a little stiff about thrusting information upon her. Then she was so pretty, so exquisite, that this by itself disconcerted him. It seemed to him almost that she had falsified a prophecy, instead of bringing one to pass. He had foretold that she would be like this; the only difference was that she was so much more like it. She made no inquiries about his arrival, his people in America, his
 
Page 171
plans; and they exchanged vague remarks about the pictures, quite as if they had met for the first time.
When Cousin Maria came in Effie was standing in front of the fire fastening a bracelet, and he was at a distance gazing in silence at a portrait of his hostess by Bastien-Lepage. One of his apprehensions had been that Cousin Maria would allude ironically to the difference there had been between his threat (because it had been really almost a threat) of following them speedily to Paris and what had in fact occurred; but he saw in a moment how superficial this calculation had been. Besides, when had Cousin Maria ever been ironical? She treated him as if she had seen him last week (which did not preclude kindness), and only expressed her regret at having missed his visit the day before, in consequence of which she had immediately written to him to come and dine. He might have come from round the corner, instead of from New York and across the wintry ocean. This was a part of her cosiness, her friendly, motherly optimism, of which, even of old, the habit had been never to recognise nor allude to disagreeable things; so that to-day, in the midst of so much that was not disagreeable, the custom would of course be immensely confirmed.
Raymond was perfectly aware that it was not a pleasure, even for her, that, for several years past, things should have gone so ill in New York with his family and himself. His father's embarrassments, of which Marian's silly husband had been the cause and which had terminated in general ruin and humiliation, to say nothing of the old man's stroke and the necessity, arising from it, for a renunciation on his own part of all present thoughts of leaving home again and even for a partial relinquishment of present work, the old man requiring so much of his personal attentionall this constituted an episode which could not fail to look sordid and dreary in the light of Mrs. Temperly's high success. The odour of success was in the warm, slightly heavy air, which seemed distilled from rare old fabrics, from brocades and tapestries, from the deep, mingled tones of the pictures, the subdued radiance of cabinets and old porcelain and the jars of winter roses standing in soft circles of lamp-light. Raymond felt himself in the presence of an effect in regard to which he remained in ignorance of the causea mystery that required a key. Cousin Maria's
 
Page 172
success was unexplained so long as she simply stood there with her little familiar, comforting, upward gaze, talking in coaxing cadences, with exactly the same manner she had brought ten years ago from California, to a tall, bald, bending, smiling young man, evidently a foreigner, who had just come in and whose name Raymond had not caught from the lips of the
maître d'hôtel.
Was he just one of themselveswas he there for Effie, or perhaps even for Dora? The unexplained must preponderate till Dora came in; he found he counted upon her, even though in her letters (it was true that for the last couple of years they had come but at long intervals) she had told him so little about their life. She never spoke of people; she talked of the books she read, of the music she had heard or was studying (a whole page sometimes about the last concert at the Conservatoire), the new pictures and the manner of the different artists.
When she entered the room three or four minutes after the arrival of the young foreigner, with whom her mother conversed in just the accents Raymond had last heard at the hotel in the Fifth Avenue (he was obliged to admit that she gave herself no airs; it was clear that her success had not gone in the least to her head); when Dora at last appeared she was accompanied by Mademoiselle Bourde. The presence of this ladyhe didn't know she was still in the houseRaymond took as a sign that they were really dining
en famille,
so that the young man was either an actual or a prospective intimate. Dora shook hands first with her cousin, but he watched the manner of her greeting with the other visitor and saw that it indicated extreme friendlinesson the part of the latter. If there was a charming flush in her cheek as he took her hand, that was the remainder of the colour that had risen there as she came toward Raymond. It will be seen that our young man still had an eye for the element of fascination, as he used to regard it, in this quiet, dimly-shining maiden.
He saw that Effie was the only one who had changed (Tishy remained yet to be judged), except that Dora really looked older, quite as much older as the number of years had given her a right to: there was as little difference in her as there was in her mother. Not that she was like her mother, but she was perfectly like herself. Her meeting with Raymond was bright,
 
Page 173
but very still; their phrases were awkward and commonplace, and the thing was mainly a contact of looksconscious, embarrassed, indirect, but brightening every moment with old familiarities. Her mother appeared to pay no attention, and neither, to do her justice, did Mademoiselle Bourde, who, after an exchange of expressive salutations with Raymond began to scrutinise Effie with little admiring gestures and smiles. She surveyed her from head to foot; she pulled a ribbon straight; she was evidently a flattering governess. Cousin Maria explained to Cousin Raymond that they were waiting for one more frienda very dear lady. But she lives near, and when people live near they are always latehaven't you noticed that?
Your hotel is far away, I know, and yet you were the first, Dora said, smiling to Raymond.
Oh, even if it were round the corner I should be the firstto come to
you!
the young man answered, speaking loud and clear, so that his words might serve as a notification to Cousin Maria that his sentiments were unchanged.
You are more French than the French, Dora returned.
You say that as if you didn't like them: I hope you don't, said Raymond, still with intentions in regard to his hostess.
We like them more and more, the more we see of them, this lady interposed; but gently, impersonally, and with an air of not wishing to put Raymond in the wrong.
Mais j'espère bien!
cried Mademoiselle Bourde, holding up her head and opening her eyes very wide. Such friendships as we form, and, I may say, as we inspire!
Je m'en rapporte à Effie,
the governess continued.
We have received immense kindness; we have established relations that are so pleasant for us, Cousin Raymond. We have the
entrée
of so many charming homes, Mrs. Temperly remarked.
But ours is the most charming of all; that I will say, exclaimed Mademoiselle Bourde. Isn't it so, Effie?
Oh yes, I think it is; especially when we are expecting the Marquise, Effie responded. Then she added, But here she comes now; I hear her carriage in the court.
The Marquise too was just one of themselves; she was a part of their charming home.
 
Page 174
She
is
such a love! said Mrs. Temperly to the foreign gentleman, with an irrepressible movement of benevolence.
To which Raymond heard the gentleman reply that, Ah, she was the most distinguished woman in France.
Do you know Madame de Brives? Effie asked of Raymond, while they were waiting for her to come in.
She came in at that moment, and the girl turned away quickly without an answer.
How in the world should I know her? That was the answer he would have been tempted to give. He felt very much out of Cousin Maria's circle. The foreign gentleman fingered his moustache and looked at him sidewise. The Marquise was a very pretty woman, fair and slender, of middle age, with a smile, a complexion, a diamond necklace, of great splendour, and a charming manner. Her greeting to her friends was sweet and familiar, and was accompanied with much kissing, of a sisterly, motherly, daughterly kind; and yet with this expression of simple, almost homely sentiment there was something in her that astonished and dazzled. She might very well have been, as the foreign young man said, the most distinguished woman in France. Dora had not rushed forward to meet her with nearly so much
empressement
as Effie, and this gave him a chance to ask the former who she was. The girl replied that she was her mother's most intimate friend: to which he rejoined that that was not a description; what he wanted to know was her title to this exalted position.
Why, can't you see it? She is beautiful and she is good.
I see that she is beautiful; but how can I see that she is good?
Good to mamma, I mean, and to Effie and Tishy.
And isn't she good to you?
Oh, I don't know her so well. But I delight to look at her.
Certainly, that must be a great pleasure, said Raymond. He enjoyed it during dinner, which was now served, though his enjoyment was diminished by his not finding himself next to Dora. They sat at a small round table and he had at his right his Cousin Maria, whom he had taken in. On his left was Madame de Brives, who had the foreign gentleman for a neighbour. Then came Effie and Mademoiselle Bourde, and Dora was on the other side of her mother. Raymond regarded
 
Page 175
this as markeda symbol of the fact that Cousin Maria would continue to separate them. He remained in ignorance of the other gentleman's identity, and remembered how he had prophesied at the hotel in New York that his hostess would give up introducing people. It was a friendly, easy little family repast, as she had said it would be, with just a marquise and a secretary of embassyRaymond ended by guessing that the stranger was a secretary of embassythrown in. So far from interfering with the family tone Madame de Brives directly contributed to it. She eminently justified the affection in which she was held in the house; she was in the highest degree sociable and sympathetic, and at the same time witty (there was no insipidity in Madame de Brives), and was the cause of Raymond's making the reflectionas he had made it often in his earlier yearsthat an agreeable Frenchwoman is a triumph of civilisation. This did not prevent him from giving the Marquise no more than half of his attention; the rest was dedicated to Dora, who, on her side, though in common with Effie and Mademoiselle Bourde she bent a frequent, interested gaze on the splendid French lady, very often met our young man's eyes with mute, vague but, to his sense, none the less valuable intimations. It was as if she knew what was going on in his mind (it is true that he scarcely knew it himself), and might be trusted to clear things up at some convenient hour.
Madame de Brives talked across Raymond, in excellent English, to Cousin Maria, but this did not prevent her from being gracious, even encouraging, to the young man, who was a little afraid of her and thought her a delightful creature. She asked him more questions about himself than any of them had done. Her conversation with Mrs. Temperly was of an intimate, domestic order, and full of social, personal allusions, which Raymond was unable to follow. It appeared to be concerned considerably with the private affairs of the old French
noblesse,
into whose councilsto judge by the tone of the MarquiseCousin Maria had been admitted by acclamation. Every now and then Madame de Brives broke into French, and it was in this tongue that she uttered an apostrophe to her hostess: Oh, you,
ma toute-bonne,
you who have the genius of good sense! And she appealed to Raymond to know if his Cousin Maria had not the genius of good sensethe

Other books

Call Me Crazy by Quinn Loftis, M Bagley Designs
Caught Up in the Touch by Laura Trentham
Médicis Daughter by Sophie Perinot
Full House by Dee, Jess
Murder Hooks a Mermaid by Christy Fifield
Claire Delacroix by The Last Highlander
The Ten Thousand by Michael Curtis Ford
Churchill by Paul Johnson
NW by Zadie Smith
Shadow Girl by Mael d'Armor