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

it is true; but, Leo, you do not like to be told that you
make the part stupid, that there is no life in it, that you are a
machine, that you sing out of tune. I have asked Mr. Lehmann, I
have asked Mr. Carey, and said to them If it is true, let me go? I
will not make ridicule of your theatre. But they are so kind to me;
and Mrs. Grey also; she says that I have not as much cheek as
Miss Burgoyne, but that Grace Mainwaring should remember that she
is a gentlewoman, and it is not necessary to make her a laughing
waitress, although she is in comedy-opera. I cannot please every
one, Leo; but if you were here I should not care so much for the
briccone who lies, who lies, who hides in the dark, like a
thief. You know whether I sing out of tune, Leo. You know whether I
am so stupid, so very stupid. Yes, I may not have cheek; I wish
not to have cheek; even to commend myself to a critic. Ah, well,
it is no use to be angry; every night I have a reception that you
would like to hear, Leo, for you have no jealousy; and my heart
says those people are not under bad influence; they are honest in
saying they are pleased; to them I sing not out of tune, and am
not so very stupid. If I lie awake at night, and cry much, it is
then I say to myself that I am stupid; and the next morning I
laugh, when Mrs. Grey says some kind thing to me.

"Will you be surprised, most excellent Signor, if you have a visit
from Miss Burgoyne? Yes, it is possible. The doctor says she has
strained her voice by too long work--but it was a little reedy of
its own nature, do you not think, Leo?--and says she must have
entire rest, and that she must go to the Isle of White; but she
said every one was going to Scotland, and why not she, and her two
friends, her travelling companions. Then she comes to me and ask
your address. I answer--Why to me? There is Mr. Lehmann; and at the
stage-door they will know his address, for letters to go. So, you
see, you will not be alone in the high-lands, when you have such a
charming visitor with you, and she will talk to you, not from
behind a fan, as on the stage, but all the day, and you will have
great comfort and satisfaction. Yes, I see her arrive at the
castle. She rings at the gate; your noble friends come out, and ask
who she is; they discover, and drive away such a person as a poor
cantatrice. But you hear, you come flying out, you rescue her from
scorn--ah, it is pitiable, they all weep, they say to you that you
are honorable and just, that they did wrong to despise your
charming friend. Perhaps they ask her to dine; and she sings to
them after; and Leo says to himself, Poor thing; no; her voice is
not so reedy. The denouement?--but I am not come to it yet; I
have not arranged what will arrive then.

"What is the time of your return, Leo? And you know what will be
then? You will find on the stage another Grace Mainwaring, who will
sing always out of tune, and be so stupid that you will have fury
and will complain to the Manager. Ah, there is now no one to speak
with you from behind a fan--only a dull heavy stupid. Misera me!
What shall I do? All the poetry departed from Harry Thornhill's
singing--there is no more fascination for him--he looks up to the
window--he sings 'The starry night brings me no rest'--and he says
'Bother to that stupid Italian girl!--why am I to sing to her?'
Poor Leo, he will be disconsolate; but not for long. No; Miss
Burgoyne will be coming back; and then he will have some one for to
talk with from behind the fan.

"Now, Leo, if you can read any more, I must attend to what you call
beesness. When Miss Burgoyne returns, I do not go back to be
under-study to Miss Girond--no--Mr. Lehmann has said he is pleased
with me, and I am to take the part of Miss Considine, who goes into
the provincial company. You know it is almost the same consequence
as Grace Mainwaring towards the public, and I am, oh, very proud of
such an advancement; and I have written to Pandiani, and to Carmela
and Andrea, and Mrs. Grey is kinder than ever, and I take lessons
always and always, when she has a half-hour from the
house-governing. I am letter perfect--is it what they say?--in
this part as in the other; my bad English does not appear on the
stage; I practise and practise always. I am to share in Miss
Girond's room, and that will be good, for she is friendly to me,
though sometimes a little saucy in her amusement. Already I hear
that the theatre-attendant people are coming back--and you--when is
your return? You had benevolence to the poor chorus-singer, Signor
Leo; and now she is prima-donna do you think she will forget you?
No, no! To-day I was going up Regent Street, and in a window
behold! a portrait of Mr. Lionel Moore and a portrait of Miss
Antonia Ross side by side! I laughed--I said, Leo did not look to
this a short time ago. It is the same fotografer; I have had
several requests; but only to that one I went, for it is the best
one of you he has taken that is seen anywhere. Of course I have to
dress as like Miss Burgoyne as possible, which is a pity to me, for
it is not too graceful, as I think I could do; but I complain
nothing, since Mr. Lehmann gave me the great advancement; and if
you will look at the critiques you will see they say I have not a
bad appearance in the part. As for the briccone--pah!--when I
talk like this to you, Leo, I despise him--he is nothing to me--I
would not pay twopence that he should praise me.

"Will you write to me, Leo, and say when you return? Have you so
much beesness that you have only sent me one letter? Adieu!

"Your true friend,
NINA."

Well, this prattling letter from Nina caused him some reflection and some uneasy qualms. He did not so much mind the prospect of having, on his return, to transform his old friend and comrade into his stage-sweetheart, and to make passionate love to her every evening before an audience. That might be a little embarrassing at first; but the feeling would soon wear off; such circumstances were common and well understood in the theatre, where stage-lovers cease their cooing the moment they withdraw into the wings. But this other possibility of finding Miss Burgoyne and her friends in the immediate neighborhood of Strathaivron Lodge? Of course there was no reason why she shouldn't travel through Ross-shire just as well as any one else. She knew his address. If she came anywhere round this way--say to Kilfearn--he must needs go to call on her. Then both Lady Adela Cunyngham and Lord Rockminster had been introduced to Miss Burgoyne in the New Theatre; if he told them, as he ought, on whom he was going to call, might they not want to accompany him and renew the acquaintance? Lady Adela and her sisters considered themselves the naturally appointed patrons of all professional folk whose names figured in the papers; was it not highly probable that Miss Burgoyne and her friends, whosoever these might be, would receive an invitation to Strathaivron Lodge? And then?--why, then might there not be rather too close a resemblance to a band of poor players being entertained by the great people at what Nina imagined to be a castle? A solitary guest was all very well; had Miss Burgoyne preceded or succeeded him, he could not have objected; but a group of strolling players, as it were?--might it not look as if they had been summoned to amuse the noble company? And fancy Miss Burgoyne coming in as a spy upon his mute, and at present quite indefinite, relations with Miss Honnor Cunyngham!--Miss Burgoyne, who was a remarkably sharp-eyed young woman, and had a clever and merry tongue withal, when she was disposed to be humorous.

Then he bethought him of what Honnor Cunyngham, with her firm independence of character, her proud self-reliance, would have said to all these timorous fancies. He knew perfectly well what she would say. She would say, "Well, but even if Miss Burgoyne were to appear at Strathaivron Lodge, how could that affect you? You are yourself; you are apart from her; her visit will be Lady Adela's doing, not yours. And if people choose to regard you as one of a band of strolling players, how can that harm you? Why should you care? The opinion that is of value to you is your own opinion; be right with yourself; and leave others to think what they please. Whoever could so entirely misjudge your position must be a fool; why should you pause for a moment to consider the opinion of a fool or any number of fools? 'To thine own self be true;' and let that suffice."

For he had come to know pretty accurately, during these frequent if intermittent talks and chats along the Aivron banks, how Miss Honnor would regard most things. The wild weather had been succeeded by a period of calm; the river had dwindled and dwindled, until it seemed merely to creep along its channel; where a rushing brown current had come down there now appeared long banks of stones, lilac and silver-gray and purple, basking in the sun; while half-way across the stream in many places the yellow sand and shingle shone through the lazily rippling shallows. Consequently there was little fishing to be done. Honnor Cunyngham went out all the same, for she loved the river-side in all weathers; and as often as he discreetly might, Lionel accompanied her; but as they had frequently to wait for half-hours together until a cloud should come over, he had ample opportunity of learning her views and opinions on a great variety of subjects. For she spoke freely and frankly and simply in this enforced idleness; and, from just a little touch here and there, Lionel began to think that she must have a good deal more of womanly tenderness and sympathy than he had given her credit for. Certainly she was always most considerate towards himself; she seemed to understand that he