Henrietta Temple by Benjamin Disraeli (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📕

for friends, he had none, at least he thought not. Not that he had to complain of human nature. He had experienced much kindness from mankind, and many were the services he had received from kind acquaintances. With the recollection of Catch, to say nothing of Bond Sharpe, and above all, Count Mirabel, fresh in his mind, he could not complain of his companions. Glastonbury was indeed a friend, but Ferdinand sighed for a friend of his own age, knit to him by the same tastes and sympathies, and capable of comprehending all his secret feelings; a friend who could even whisper hope, and smile in a spunging-house.

The day wore away, the twilight shades were descending; Ferdinand became every moment more melancholy, when suddenly his constant ally, the waiter, rushed into the room. 'My eye, sir, here is a regular nob enquiring for you. I told you it would be all right.'

'Who is it?'

'Here he is coming up.'

Ferdinand caught the triumphant tones of Mirabel on the staircase.

'Which is the room? Show me directly. Ah! Armine, _mon ami! mon cher!_ Is this your friendship? To be in this cursed hole, and not send for me! _C'est une mauvaise plaisanterie_ to pretend we are friends! How are you, good fellow, fine fellow, excellent Armine? If you were not here I would quarrel with you. There, go away, man.' The waiter disappeared, and Count Mirabel seated himself on the hard sofa.

'My dear fellow,' continued the Count, twirling the prettiest cane in the world, 'this is a _betise_ of you to be here and not send for me. Who has put you here?'

'My dear Mirabel, it is all up.'

'Pah! How much is it?'

'I tell you I am done up. It has got about that the marriage is off, and Morris and Levison have nabbed me for all the arrears of my cursed annuities.'

'But how much?'

'Between two and three thousand.'

The Count Mirabel gave a whistle.

'I brought five hundred, which I have. We must get the rest somehow or other.'

'My dear Mirabel, you are the most generous fellow in the world; but I have troubled my friends too much. Nothing will induce me to take a sou from you. Besides, between ourselves, not my least mortification at this moment is some 1,500L., which Bond Sharpe let me have the other day for nothing, through Catch.'

'Pah! I am sorry about that, though, because he would have lent us this money. I will ask Bevil.'

'I would sooner die.'

'I will ask him for myself.'

'It is impossible.'

'We will arrange it: I tell you who will do it for us. He is a good fellow, and immensely rich: it is Fitzwarrene; he owes me great favours.'

'Dear Mirabel, I am delighted to see you. This is good and kind. I am so damned dull here. It quite gladdens me to see you; but do not talk about money.'

'Here is 500L.; four other fellows at 500L. we can manage it.'

'No more, no more! I beseech you.'

'But you cannot stop here. _Quel drole appartement!_ Before Charley Doricourt was in Parliament he was always in this sort of houses, but I got him out somehow or other; I managed it. Once I bought of the fellow five hundred dozen of champagne.'

'A new way to pay old debts, certainly,' said Ferdinand.

'I tell you--have you dined?'

'I was going to; merely to have something to do.'

'I will stop and dine with you,' said the Count, ringing the bell, 'and we will talk over affairs. Laugh, my friend; laugh, my Armine: this is only a scene. This is life. What can we have for dinner, man? I shall dine here.'

'Gentleman's dinner is ordered, my lord; quite ready,' said the waiter. 'Champagne in ice, my lord?'

'To be sure; everything that is good. _Mon cher_ Armine, we shall have some fun.'

'Yes, my lord,' said the waiter, running down stairs. 'Dinner for best drawing-room directly; green-pea-soup, turbot, beefsteak, roast duck and boiled chicken, everything that is good, champagne in ice; two regular nobs!'

The dinner soon appeared, and the two friends seated themselves.

'Potage admirable!' said Count Mirabel. 'The best champagne I ever drank in my life. _Mon brave_, your health. This must be Charley's man, by the wine. I think we will have him up; he will lend us some money. Finest turbot I ever ate! I will give you some of the fins. Ah! you are glad to see me, my Armine, you are glad to see your friend. _Encore_ champagne! Good Armine, excellent Armine! Keep up your spirits, I will manage these fellows. You must take some bifteac. The most tender bifteac I ever tasted! This is a fine dinner. _Encore un verre!_ Man, you may go; don't wait.'

'By Jove, Mirabel, I never was so glad to see anybody in my life. Now, you are a friend; I feel quite in spirits.'

'To be sure! always be in spirits. _C'est une betise_ not to be in spirits. Everything is sure to go well. You will see how I will manage these fellows, and I will come and dine with you every day until you are out: you shall not be here eight-and-forty hours. As I go home I will stop at Mitchell's and get you a novel by Paul de Kock. Have you ever read Paul de Kock's books?'

'Never,' said Ferdinand.

'What a fortunate man to be arrested! Now you can read Paul de Kock! By Jove, you are the most lucky fellow I know. You see, you thought yourself very miserable in being arrested. 'Tis the finest thing in the world, for now you will read _Mon Voisin Raymond_. There are always two sides to a case.'

'I am content to believe myself very lucky in having such a friend as you,' said Ferdinand; 'but now as these things are cleared away, let us talk over affairs. Have you seen Henrietta?'

'Of course, I see her every day.'

'I hope she will not know of my crash until she has married.'

'She will not, unless you tell her.'

'And when do you think she will be married?'

'When you please.'

'_Cher ami! point de moquerie!_'

'By Jove, I am quite serious,' exclaimed the Count. 'I am as certain that you will marry her as that we are in this damned spunging-house.'

'Nonsense!'

'The very finest sense in the world. If you will not marry her, I will myself, for I am resolved that good Montfort shall not. It shall never be said that I interfered without a result. Why, if she were to marry Montfort now, it would ruin my character. To marry Montfort after all my trouble: dining with that good Temple, and opening the mind of that little Grandison, and talking fine things to that good duchess; it would be a failure.'

'What an odd fellow you are, Mirabel!' 'Of course! Would you have me like other people and not odd? We will drink _la belle Henriette!_ Fill up! You will be my friend when you are married, eh? _Mon Armine, excellent garcon!_ How we shall laugh some day; and then this dinner, this dinner will be the best dinner we ever had!'

'But why do you think there is the slightest hope of Henrietta not marrying Montfort?'

'Because my knowledge of human nature assures me that a young woman, very beautiful, very rich, with a very high spirit, and an only daughter, will never go and marry one man when she is in love with another, and that other one, my dear fellow, like you. You are more sure of getting her because she is engaged.'

What a wonderful thing is a knowledge of human nature! thought Ferdinand to himself. The Count's knowledge of human nature is like my friend the waiter's experience. One assures me that I am certain to marry a woman because she is engaged to another person, and the other, that it is quite clear my debts will be paid because they are so large! The Count remained with his friend until eleven o'clock, when everybody was locked up. He invited himself to dine with him to-morrow, and promised that he should have a whole collection of French novels before he awoke. And assuring him over and over again that he looked upon him as the most fortunate of all his friends, and that if he broke the bank at Crocky's to-night, which he fancied he should, he would send him two or three thousand pounds; at the same time he shook him heartily by the hand, and descended the staircase of the spunging-house, humming _Vive la Bagatelle_.


CHAPTER XXI.


_The Crisis_.


ALTHOUGH, when Ferdinand was once more left alone to his reflections, it did not appear to him that anything had occurred which should change his opinion of his forlorn lot, there was something, nevertheless, inspiring in the visit of his friend Count Mirabel. It did not seem to him, indeed, that he was one whit nearer extrication from his difficulties than before; and as for the wild hopes as to Henrietta, he dismissed them from his mind as the mere fantastic schemes of a sanguine spirit, and yet his gloom, by some process difficult to analyse, had in great measure departed. It could not be the champagne, for that was a remedy he had previously tried; it was in some degree doubtless the magic sympathy of a joyous temperament: but chiefly it might, perhaps, be ascribed to the flattering conviction that he possessed the hearty friendship of a man whose good-will was, in every view of the case, a very enviable possession. With such a friend as Mirabel, he could not deem himself quite so unlucky as in the morning. If he were fortunate, and fortunate so unexpectedly, in this instance, he might be so in others. A vague presentiment that he had seen the worst of life came over him. It was equally in vain to justify the consoling conviction or to resist it; and Ferdinand Armine, although in a spunging-house, fell asleep in better humour with his destiny than he had been for the last eight months.

His dreams were charming: he fancied that he was at Armine, standing by the Barbary rose-tree. It was moonlight; it was, perhaps, a slight recollection of the night he had looked upon the garden from the window of his chamber, the night after he had first seen Henrietta. Suddenly, Henrietta Temple appeared at his window, and waved her hand to him with a smiling face. He immediately plucked for her a flower, and stood with his offering beneath her window. She was in a riding-habit, and she told him that she had just returned from Italy. He invited her to descend, and she disappeared; but instead of Henrietta, there came forward from the old Place-----the duchess, who immediately enquired whether he had seen his cousin; and then her Grace, by some confused process common in dreams, turned into Glastonbury, and pointed to the rose-tree, where, to his surprise, Katherine was walking with Lord Montfort. Ferdinand called out for Henrietta, but, as she did not appear, he entered the Place, where he found Count Mirabel dining by himself, and just drinking a glass of champagne. He complained to Mirabel that Henrietta had disappeared, but his friend laughed at him, and said that, after such a long ride, leaving Italy only yesterday, he could scarcely expect to see her. Satisfied with this explanation, Ferdinand joined the Count at his banquet, and