Daniel Deronda George Eliot (best book clubs TXT) đ
- Author: George Eliot
Book online «Daniel Deronda George Eliot (best book clubs TXT) đ». Author George Eliot
He did come, however, and at a moment when he could propose to conduct Mrs. Davilow to her carriage, âShall we meet again in the ballroom?â she said as he raised his hat at parting. The âyesâ in reply had the usual slight drawl and perfect gravity.
âYou were wrong for once, Gwendolen,â said Mrs. Davilow, during their few minutesâ drive to the castle.
âIn what, mamma?â
âAbout Mr. Grandcourtâs appearance and manners. You canât find anything ridiculous in him.â
âI suppose I could if I tried, but I donât want to do it,â said Gwendolen, rather pettishly; and her mother was afraid to say more.
It was the rule on these occasions for the ladies and gentlemen to dine apart, so that the dinner might make a time of comparative ease and rest for both. Indeed, the gentlemen had a set of archery stories about the epicurism of the ladies, who had somehow been reported to show a revolting masculine judgment in venison, even asking for the fatâ âa proof of the frightful rate at which corruption might go on in women, but for severe social restraint, and every year the amiable Lord Brackenshaw, who was something of a gourmet, mentioned Byronâs opinion that a woman should never be seen eatingâ âintroducing it with a confidentialâ ââThe fact isâ as if he were for the first time admitting his concurrence in that sentiment of the refined poet.
In the ladiesâ dining-room it was evident that Gwendolen was not a general favorite with her own sex: there were no beginnings of intimacy between her and other girls, and in conversation they rather noticed what she said than spoke to her in free exchange. Perhaps it was that she was not much interested in them, and when left alone in their company had a sense of empty benches. Mrs. Vulcany once remarked that Miss Harleth was too fond of the gentlemen; but we know that she was not in the least fond of themâ âshe was only fond of their homageâ âand women did not give her homage. The exception to this willing aloofness from her was Miss Arrowpoint, who often managed unostentatiously to be by her side, and talked to her with quiet friendliness.
âShe knows, as I do, that our friends are ready to quarrel over a husband for us,â thought Gwendolen, âand she is determined not to enter into the quarrel.â
âI think Miss Arrowpoint has the best manners I ever saw,â said Mrs. Davilow, when she and Gwendolen were in a dressing-room with Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna, but at a distance where they could have their talk apart.
âI wish I were like her,â said Gwendolen.
âWhy? Are you getting discontented with yourself, Gwen?â
âNo; but I am discontented with things. She seems contented.â
âI am sure you ought to be satisfied today. You must have enjoyed the shooting. I saw you did.â
âOh, that is over now, and I donât know what will come next,â said Gwendolen, stretching herself with a sort of moan and throwing up her arms. They were bare now; it was the fashion to dance in the archery dress, throwing off the jacket; and the simplicity of her white cashmere with its border of pale green set off her form to the utmost. A thin line of gold round her neck, and the gold star on her breast, were her only ornaments. Her smooth soft hair piled up into a grand crown made a clear line about her brow. Sir Joshua would have been glad to take her portrait; and he would have had an easier task than the historian at least in this, that he would not have had to represent the truth of changeâ âonly to give stability to one beautiful moment.
âThe dancing will come next,â said Mrs. Davilow âYou are sure to enjoy that.â
âI shall only dance in the quadrille. I told Mr. Clintock so. I shall not waltz or polk with anyone.â
âWhy in the world do you say that all on a sudden?â
âI canât bear having ugly people so near me.â
âWhom do you mean by ugly people?â
âOh, plenty.â
âMr. Clintock, for example, is not ugly.â Mrs. Davilow dared not mention Grandcourt.
âWell, I hate woolen cloth touching me.â
âFancy!â said Mrs. Davilow to her sister who now came up from the other end of the room. âGwendolen says she will not waltz or polk.â
âShe is rather given to whims, I think,â said Mrs. Gascoigne, gravely. âIt would be more becoming in her to behave as other young ladies do on such an occasion as this; especially when she has had the advantage of first-rate dancing lessons.â
âWhy should I dance if I donât like it, aunt? It is not in the catechism.â
âMy dear!â said Mrs. Gascoigne, in a tone of severe check, and Anna looked frightened at Gwendolenâs daring. But they all passed on without saying any more.
Apparently something had changed Gwendolenâs mood since the hour of exulting enjoyment in the archery-ground. But she did not look the worse under the chandeliers in the ballroom, where the soft splendor of the scene and the pleasant odors from the conservatory could not but be soothing to the temper, when accompanied with the consciousness of being preeminently sought for. Hardly a dancing man but was anxious to have her for a partner, and each whom she accepted was in a state of melancholy remonstrance that she would not waltz or polk.
âAre you under a vow, Miss Harleth?ââ ââWhy are you so cruel to us all?ââ ââYou waltzed with me in February.ââ ââAnd you who waltz so perfectly!â were exclamations not without piquancy for her. The ladies who waltzed naturally thought that Miss Harleth only wanted to make herself particular; but her uncle when he overheard her refusal, supported her by saying,
âGwendolen has usually good reasons.â He thought she was certainly more distinguished in not
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