Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (smart ebook reader .txt) 📕

Erminia.--Do You Like My Name,  Mr. Farquhar? We Have Strange Names In

America,  English People Are Pleased To Say.--Victor!" She Went On,

Calling To The Chasseur Without Pausing For Any Reply,  "Stop At Some

Place Where They Sell Candy. Mr. Farquhar Will Get Out And Buy Us Some."

Obediently To Her Order,  We Stopped At A Confectioner'S. I Was Directed

To Put My Hand Into The Carriage-Pocket,  Where I Should Find Some

"Loose Change," Kept There For Candy And The Hurdy-Gurdy Boys. Then I

Was Directed To Go Into The "Store" And Choose A Pound Of All Sorts Of

"Mixed Candy."

I Had Not More Than Made Myself Intelligible To A Young Person Behind

The Counter When The Carriage-Door Was Opened And Both The Girls Came

In,  Miss Hermione Declaring That She Knew I Should Be Embarrassed By The

Multitude Of "Sweeties," And That I Should Need Their Experience To Know

What I Was About.

With Dawdling,  Laughing And Good-Comradeship We Chose Our Bonbons,  And

Getting Back Into The Barouche We Proceeded To Crunch Them As We Drove

On To Monceaux. It Was Like Being Children Over Again,  With A Slight

Sense Of Being Out Of Bounds. I Had Never Seen Confectionery Eaten

Wholesale In That Fashion. Such Bonbons Were Expensive,  Too. Trained In

The Personal Economy Of English Middle-Class Life,  It Would Never Have

Occurred To Me To Buy Several Francs' Worth Of Sugar-Plums And To Eat

Them By The Handful. But As The Fair American Sat Before Me,  Smiling,

Laughing,  Petting Amy And Saying Fascinating Impertinences To Myself,  I

Thought I Had Never Seen So Bewitching A Creature. Her Frame,  Though

_Svelte_ And Admirably Proportioned,  Gave Me An Idea Of Vigor And

Strength Not Commonly Associated At That Time With The Girls Of America.

Her Complexion,  Too,  Was Healthy: She Was Not So Highly Colored As An

English Country Girl,  But Her Skin Was Bright And Clear. Her Face Was A

Perfect Oval,  Her Hair Glossy And Dark,  Her Eyes Expressive Hazel. Her

Points Were All Good: Her Ears,  Her Hands,  Her Feet,  Her Upper Lip And

Nostrils Showed Blood,  And The Daintiness And Taste Of Her Rich Dress

Seemed To Denote Her Good Taste And Fine Breeding. My Sisters,  Could Not

Tie Their Bonnet-Strings As She Tied Hers,  Nor Were Their Dresses

Anything Like Hers In Freshness,  Fit Or Daintiness Of Trimming.

We Alighted At Last At Old Monceaux,  And Walked About Its Solemn Alleys.

Sometimes Miss Leare Talked Sense,  And Talked It Well. Those Were

Exciting Days In Paris. It Was February,  1848,  And A Great Crisis Was

Nearer At Hand In Politics Than We Suspected; Besides Which There Had

Been Several Events In Private Life Which Had Increased The General

Excitement Of The Period--Notably The Murder Of Marshal Sebastiani'S

Daughter,  The Poor Duchesse De Praslin. Hermione Could Talk Of These

Things With Great Spirit,  But Sometimes Relapsed Into Her Grown-Up

Childishness. She Talked,  Too,  With Animation Of The Freedom And

Happiness Of Her American Girlhood. My Sister Amy Had Always Taken Life

_Au Grand Serieux_; Ellen Was A Little Too Prompt To Flirt With Officers

And Gay Young Men,  And Needed Repression; Laetitia Went In For

Book-Learning,  And Measured Every One By What She Called Their

"Educational Opportunities." My Sisters Were As Different As Possible

From This Butterfly Creature,  Who Seemed To Sip Interest And Amusement

Out Of Everything.

At The End Of Two Hours We Drove Back To Mrs. Leare'S Hotel,  Which Was

Opposite Our Own Apartment In The Rue Neuve De Berri,  The Hotel That A

Few Weeks Later Was Occupied By Prince Jerome. Here Hermione Insisted

Upon Our Coming In While The Carriage Drove To The Dentist'S For Her

Mother.

The Reception-Rooms In Mrs. Leare'S Hotel Were Very Showy. They Were

Filled With Buhl And Knick-Knacks Gathered On All Parts Of The

Continent,  And Lavishly Displayed,  Not Always In Good Keeping. A Little

Sister,  Claribel,  Came Running Up To Us When We Entered,  And Clung

Fondly To Hermione,  Who Sat Down At The Erard Grand Piano And Sang To

Us,  Without Suggestion,  A Gay Little French Song. She Was Taking

Lessons,  Amy Afterward Told Me,  Of The Master Most In Vogue In Paris And

Of All Others The Most Expensive. Amy,  Who Could Sing Well Herself,

Disparaged Hermione'S Voice To Me,  And Sighed As She Thought Of The

Waste Of Those Inestimable Lessons.

Then Miss Hermione Lifted The Top Of An Ormolu Box On The Chimney-Piece

Of A Boudoir And Showed Amy And Me,  Under The Rose As It Were,  Some

Cigarettes,  With A Laugh. "Mamma'S," She Said: "She Has A _Faiblesse_

That Way."

"Oh,  Hermione! You Don'T?" Cried Amy.

"No,  _I_ Don'T," Said Hermione More Gravely.

I Was So Amused By Her,  So Fascinated,  So Completely At My Ease With

Her,  That I Could Have Stayed On Without Taking Note Of Time Had Not Amy

Remembered That It Was Our Dinner-Hour. We Took Our Leave,  And Met Mrs.

Leare On The Staircase Ascending To Her Apartment. She Greeted Amy With

As Much Effusion As Was Compatible With Her Ideas Of Fashion,  And Said

She Was "Right Glad" To Hear We Had Been Passing The Morning With

Hermione.

"I Wish You Would Come Very Often. I Like Her To See English Girls: You

Do Her So Much Good,  Amy.--Mr. Farquhar,  We Shall Hope To See You Often

Too. I Have A Little Reception Here Every Sunday Evening."

With That She Continued Her Course Up Stairs,  And We Descended To The

Porte-Cochere.

She Was A Faded Woman,  "Dressed To Death," As Amy Phrased It,  And None

Of My People Had A Good Word For Her.

"The Leares Are Rolling In Riches,  I Believe," Remarked My Father,  "And

An American Who Is Rich Has No Hereditary Obligations To Absorb His

Wealth,  So That It Becomes All 'Spending-Money,' As Miss Hermione Says.

The Head Of The Family--King Leare I Call Him--Stays At Home In Some

Sort Of A Counting-Room In New York And Makes Money,  Giving Mrs. Leare

And Miss Hermione _Carte Blanche_ To Spend It On Any Follies They

Please. I Never Heard Anything Exactly Wrong Concerning Mrs. Leare,  But

She Does Not Seem To Me The Woman To Be Trusted With That Very Nice

Young Daughter. I Feel Great Pity For Miss Leare."

"Miss Leare Has Plenty Of Sense And Character," Said My Mother: "I Do

Not Think Her Mother'S Queer Surroundings Seem To Affect Her In any Way.

She Moves Among The Frenchmen,  Poles And Italians Of Her Mother'S Court

Like That Lady Shakespeare--Or Was It Spenser?--Wrote About Among The

Fauns And Satyrs. With All Her American Freedom She Avoids Improprieties

By Instinct. I Have No Fears For Her Future If She Marries The Right

Man."

"Indeed,  Mamma," Said Amy,  "I Wish She Would Keep More Strictly Within

The Limit Of The Proprieties. She Makes Me Nervous All The Time We Are

Together."

"My Dear,  You Never Heard Her Breathe A Really Unbecoming Word Or Saw

Her Do An Immodest Thing?" Said My Mother Interrogatively.

"Oh No,  Of Course Not," Said Amy.

"They Say Mrs. Leare Wants To Marry Her To That Neapolitan Marquis Who

Is So Often There," Put In ellen. "_On Dit_,  She Will Have A _Dot_ Of

Two Millions Of Francs,  Or,  As They Call It,  Half A Million Of Dollars."

"Such A Rumor," I Broke In,  Rather Annoyed By This Turn In The

Conversation,  "May Well Buy Her The Right To Be A Marchioness If She

Will."

"Indeed It Won'T,  Then," Said Ellen Sharply,  "For She Thinks Americans

Should Not 'Fix' Themselves Permanently Abroad. She Says She Means To

Marry One Of Her Own Folks,  As She Calls Her Countrymen."

"She Knows An Infinite Variety Of Things,  And Has Had All Kinds Of

Masters," Sighed Laetitia: "She Speaks All The Languages In europe. I

Believe Americans Have A Peculiar Facility For Pronunciation,  Like The

Russians,  And She Learned At Her School In america Philosophy,  Rhetoric,

Logic,  Latin,  Algebra,  Chemistry."

"I Wonder She Should Be So Sweet A Woman," Said My Father. "She Seems A

Good Girl--I Never Took Her For A Learned One--But Her Mother Is A Fool,

And I Should Think Her Father Must Be That Or Worse. I Wonder What He

Can Be Like? It Seems To An Englishman So Strange That A Man Should Stay

At Home Alone For Years,  And Suffer His Wife And Family To Travel All

Over The Continent Without Protection."

Though My Father,  Mother And Sisters Declined The Sunday Invitation Of

Mrs. Leare,  I Went To Her Reception. The Guests Were Nearly All

Italians,  Poles,  Spaniards Or Frenchmen. There Was No Englishman

Present,  But Myself,  And Only One Or Two Americans. I Felt At Once How

Out Of Place My Mother,  The Country Matron,  And My Father,  _Ce

Respectable Viellard,_ Would Have Been In Such A Circle. But Mrs.

Leare'S Guests Were Not The _Jeunesse Doree_ Nor The Dubious Nobility I

Had Expected To Meet In Her _Salon_. The Frenchmen Among Them Were All

Men Whose Names Were Familiar In French Political Circles--Men Of

Revolutionary Tendencies And Of Advanced Opinions. I Afterward

Discovered They Had Taken Advantage Of Mrs. Leare'S Desire To Be The

Head Of A Salon To Use Her Rooms As A Convenient Rendezvous. It Was Safe

Ground On Which To Simmer Their Revolutionary Cauldron. It Was Seething

And Bubbling That Night,  Although Neither The Leares Nor Myself Were

Aware Of What Was Brewing. The Talk Was All About The Banquets,

Especially The Impending Reform Banquet In The Rue Chaillot. The

Gentlemen Present Were Not Exactly Conspirators: They Were For The Most

Part Political Reformers,  Who,  Being Cut Off From The Usual Modes Of

Expressing Themselves Through A Recognized Parliamentary Opposition Or

By The Medium Of Petition,  Had Devised A System Of Political Banquets,

Some Fifty Of Which Had Already Been Held In The Departments,  And They

Were Now Engaged In Getting One Up In Paris In The Twelfth

Arrondissement.

At That Time,  In a Population Of Thirty-Five Millions,  There Were But A

Quarter Of A Million Of French Voters,  And As In France All Places (From

That Of A Railroad Guard To A Seat On The Bench) Were Disposed Of By The

Government,  It Was Very Easy For Ministers To Control The Legislature. A

Reform,  Really Needed In The Franchise,  Was The Object Proposed To

Themselves By The Original Heads Of The Revolution Of 1848,  Though When

They