Prince Fortunatus by William Black (ebook reader with highlighter TXT) 📖

wishes to have the reputation to be allied with you--in the theatre--out of the theatre. Then she sees that you drive with me in an open carriage; she hates me--what more natural? And she is angry with you--"

"Now, Nina," said he, "do you think any woman could be so mad as to want to have a duel fought simply because she saw me driving past in a carriage with Mrs. Grey and you--is it reasonable?"

"Leo, you did not see her last night," Nina said, but still with a little embarrassment, "when she meets me in the corridor--oh, such a furious woman!--her face white, her eyes burning. As for her insulting me, what may I care? I am a foreigner, yes; if one says so, I am not wounded. Perhaps the foreigners have better manners a little?--but that is not of importance; no, what I say is, she will be overjoyed to have you fight a duel about her--why, it is glory for her!--every one will talk--your names will be joined in newspapers--when the people see you on the stage they will say, 'Ah, ah, he is back from fighting the duel; he must be mad in love with Miss Burgoyne.' A duel--yes, so unusual in England--every one will talk--ah, that will be the sweetest music for Miss Burgoyne's ears in the whole world--prouder than a queen she will be when the public have your name and her name rumored together. And you do not understand it, Leo!"

He had been listening in silence, with something of vexation deepening upon his features.

"What you say only makes matters worse and worse!" he exclaimed, presently. "If that were true, Nina--just supposing that were the true state of the case--why, I should be fighting a duel over a woman I don't care twopence about, and with a young jackass whom I could kick across the street! That is what I ought to have done!--why didn't I throw him down-stairs? But the mischief of it is that the thing is now inevitable; I can't back out? I declare I never was in such a quandary in my life before!"

"And you will go and put yourself in danger, Leo," Nina said, indignantly, "that a deceitful woman has the pride to hear the public talk! Have you the right to do it? You say there are sometimes accidents--both with swords as pistols--yes, every one knows it. And you put your life in danger--for what? You care nothing for your friends, then?--you think they will not heed much if--if an accident happens? You think it is a light matter--nothing--a trifle done to please a boy and a wicked-minded woman? Leo, I say you have no right to do it! You should have the spirit, the courage, to say 'no!' You should go to that woman and say, 'You think I will make sport for you?--no, I will not!' And as for the foolish boy, if he comes near to you, then you take your riding-whip, Leo, and thrash him!--thrash him--thrash him!" Nina exclaimed, with her teeth set hard; indeed, her bosom was heaving so with indignation that Mrs. Grey put her hand gently on the girl's shoulder, and reminded her that Lionel was in sufficient perplexity, and wanted wise counsel rather than whirling words.

As for Lionel himself, he had to leave those good friends very shortly; for he was going out to dinner, and he had to get home to dress. And as he was walking along Piccadilly, ruminating over this matter, the more he thought of it the less he liked the look of it: not that he had been much influenced by Nina's apprehensions of personal harm, but that he most distinctly feared the absurdity of the whole affair. Indeed, the longer he pondered over it, the more morose and resentful he became that he should ever have been placed in such an awkward position; and when he was going up-stairs to his room, he was saying to himself, with gloomy significance:

"Well, if that young fool persists, I'd advise him to look out; I'm not going over the water for nothing."


CHAPTER VI.


A DEPARTURE.

There was but little sleep for Nina that night. She was sick at heart to think that in return for the unceasing kindness Lionel had shown her since her arrival in England, she should be the means of drawing him into this foolish embroilment. She saw the situation of affairs clearly enough. Miss Burgoyne was an exacting, irritable, jealous woman, who had resented Nina's presence in the theatre almost from the beginning, and who had been driven into a sudden fury by the sight of Lionel (he taking no notice of her either) driving past with this interloping foreigner. Moreover, Miss Burgoyne was inordinately vain: to have the popular young baritone fight a duel on her account--to have their names coupled together in common talk--what greater triumph could she desire than that? But while Miss Burgoyne might be the ostensible cause of the quarrel, Nina knew who was the real cause of it; and again and again she asked herself why she had ever come to England, thus to bring trouble upon her old ally and companion Leo.

And then in that world of visions that lies just outside the realm of sleep--in which great things become small, and small things acquire a fantastic and monstrous importance--she worried and fretted because Lionel had laughingly complained on the previous evening that henceforth there would be no more home-made lemonade for him. Well, now, if she--that is to say, if Nina--were in her humble way to try what she could do in that direction? It might not be so good as the lemonade that Miss Burgoyne prepared; but perhaps Lionel would be a little generous and make allowance? She would not challenge any comparison. She and Mrs. Grey between them would do their best, and the result would be sent anonymously to his rooms in Piccadilly; if he chose to accept it--well, it was a timid little something by way of compensation. Nina forgot for the moment that within the next few days an unlucky sword-thrust might suddenly determine Lionel's interest in lemonade, as in all other earthly things; these trivial matters grew large in this distorted land of waking dreams; nay, she began to think that if she were to leave England altogether, and go away back to Naples, and perhaps accept an engagement in opera at Malta, then matters would be as before at the New Theatre; and when Lionel and Miss Burgoyne met in the corridor, it would be, "Good-evening, Miss Burgoyne!" and "Good-evening, Mr. Moore!" just as it used to be. There would be no Italian girl interfering, and bringing dissension and trouble.

But the next morning, when the actual facts of the case were before her clearer vision, she had better reason for becoming anxious and restless and miserable. As the day wore on, Mrs. Grey could hardly persuade her to run down to the Crystal Palace for the opening of the Handel Festival, though, as the little widow pointed out, Mr. Moore had procured the tickets for them, and they were bound to go. Of course, when once they were in the great transept of the Palace, in the presence of this vast assemblage, and listening to the splendid orchestra and a chorus of between three and four thousand voices dealing with the massive and majestic strains of the "Messiah," the spell of the music fell upon Nina and held absolute sway over her. She got into a curious state of exaltation; she seemed breathless; sometimes, Mrs. Grey thought, she shivered a little with the strain of emotion. And all the time that Mr. Santley was singing "Why do the nations," she held her hand tightly over her heart; and when he had finished--when the thrilled multitude broke forth into an extraordinary thunder of enthusiasm--Nina murmured to herself,

"It is--it is like to take my life-blood away."

But when they were in the train again, and on their way up to town, it was evident to her companion that the girl had returned to her anxious fears.

"Mrs. Grey," she said, suddenly, "I speak to Miss Burgoyne to-night."

"Oh, no, don't do that, Miss Nina!" said Mrs. Grey, with much concern, for she knew something of the circumstances of the case. "I hope you won't do that! You might simply make matters worse. Mr. Moore would not have spoken to you if he thought you would interfere, depend upon that. And if Miss Burgoyne is vexed or angry, what good would you do? I hear she has a sharp tongue; don't you try her temper, my dear," the little woman pleaded.

But Nina did not answer these representations; and she was mostly silent and thoughtful all the way to town. When they reached London, they had some tea at the railway-station, and she went on at once to the theatre. She was there early; Miss Burgoyne had not arrived; so Nina lingered about the corridor, listening to Mlle. Girond's pretty chatter, but not hearing very much.

At length the prima-donna appeared; and she would have passed Nina without recognition, had not the latter went forward a step, and said, somewhat timidly,

"Miss Burgoyne!"

"What?" said Miss Burgoyne, stopping short, and regarding the Italian girl with a by-no-means-friendly stare.

"May I have a word with you?" Nina said, with a little hesitation.

"Yes; what is it?" the other demanded, abruptly.

"But--but in private?" Nina said again. "In your room?"

"Oh, very well, come in!" Miss Burgoyne said, with but scant courtesy; and she led the way into her sitting-room, and also intimated to her maid that she might retire into the inner apartment. Then she turned to Nina.

"What is it you want?"

But the crisis found Nina quite unprepared. She had constructed no set speech; she had formulated no demand. For a second or so she stood tongue-tied--tongue-tied and helpless--unable to put her passionate appeal into words; then, all of a sudden, she said,

"Miss Burgoyne, you will not allow it--this folly! It is madness that they fight about--about nothing! You will not allow it!--what is it to you?--you have enough fame, enough reputation as a prima-donna, as a favorite with the public--what more? Why should you wish more--and at such a dreadful risk?--"

"Oh, I don't know what you're talking about!" said Miss Burgoyne. "What are you talking about?"

"The duel--" said Nina, breathlessly.

"What duel?"

Nina stared at her.

"Ah, you do not know, then?" she exclaimed.

"What don't I know?" Miss Burgoyne said, impatiently. "What are you talking about! What duel? Is it something in the evening papers? Or have you taken leave of your senses?"

Nina paid no heed to these taunts.

"You do not know, then," she asked, "that--that Mr. Moore is going to fight a duel--with a young gentleman who is your friend? No?--you do not know it?"

It was Miss Burgoyne's turn to stare in amazement.

"Mr. Moore?" she repeated, with her eyes (which were pretty and coquettish enough, though they were not on the same plane) grown wide and wondering. "A friend of mine? And you come to me--as if I had anything to do with it? Oh, my goodness!" she suddenly exclaimed, and a curious smile of intelligence began to dawn upon her face. "Has that young donkey carried the matter so far as that?"

But she was not displeased; nay, she was rather inclined to laugh.

"Well, that would make a stir, wouldn't it? And how did you find it out?--who told you? A duel? I thought he was talking rather mysteriously yesterday morning--Conrad the Corsair kind of thing--glooms