The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope [good story books to read .txt] 📗

“I heard about her marriage yesterday. But Brehgert isn’t one of Melmotte’s set. They tell me that Brehgert isn’t a bad fellow. A vulgar cad, and all that, but nothing wrong about him.”

“He’s a Jew⁠—and he’s seventy years old, and makes up horribly.”

“What does it matter to you if he’s eighty? You are determined, then, you won’t go?”

But Lady Monogram had by no means determined that she wouldn’t go. She had paid her price, and with that economy which sticks to a woman always in the midst of her extravagances, she could not bear to lose the thing that she had bought. She cared nothing for Melmotte’s villainy, as regarded herself. That he was enriching himself by the daily plunder of the innocent she had taken for granted since she had first heard of him. She had but a confused idea of any difference between commerce and fraud. But it would grieve her greatly to become known as one of an awkward squad of people who had driven to the door, and perhaps been admitted to some wretched gathering of wretched people⁠—and not, after all, to have met the Emperor and the Prince. But then, should she hear on the next morning that the Emperor and the Princes, that the Princesses, and the Duchesses, with the Ambassadors, Cabinet Ministers, and proper sort of world generally, had all been there⁠—that the world, in short, had ignored Melmotte’s villainy⁠—then would her grief be still greater. She sat down to dinner with her husband and Miss Longestaffe, and could not talk freely on the matter. Miss Longestaffe was still a guest of the Melmottes, although she had transferred herself to the Monograms for a day or two. And a horrible idea crossed Lady Monogram’s mind. What should she do with her friend Georgiana if the whole Melmotte establishment were suddenly broken up? Of course, Madame Melmotte would refuse to take the girl back if her husband were sent to gaol. “I suppose you’ll go,” said Sir Damask as the ladies left the room.

“Of course we shall⁠—in about an hour,” said Lady Monogram as she left the room, looking round at him and rebuking him for his imprudence.

“Because, you know⁠—” and then he called her back. “If you want me I’ll stay, of course; but if you don’t, I’ll go down to the club.”

“How can I say, yet? You needn’t mind the club tonight.”

“All right;⁠—only it’s a bore being here alone.”

Then Miss Longestaffe asked what “was up.” “Is there any doubt about our going tonight?”

“I can’t say. I’m so harassed that I don’t know what I’m about. There seems to be a report that the Emperor won’t be there.”

“Impossible!”

“It’s all very well to say impossible, my dear,” said Lady Monogram; “but still that’s what people are saying. You see Mr. Melmotte is a very great man, but perhaps⁠—something else has turned up, so that he may be thrown over. Things of that kind do happen. You had better finish dressing. I shall. But I shan’t make sure of going till I hear that the Emperor is there.” Then she descended to her husband, whom she found forlornly consoling himself with a cigar. “Damask,” she said, “you must find out.”

“Find out what?”

“Whether the Prince and the Emperor are there.”

“Send John to ask,” suggested the husband.

“He would be sure to make a blunder about it. If you’d go yourself you’d learn the truth in a minute. Have a cab⁠—just go into the hall and you’ll soon know how it all is;⁠—I’d do it in a minute if I were you.” Sir Damask was the most good-natured man in the world, but he did not like the job. “What can be the objection?” asked his wife.

“Go to a man’s house and find out whether a man’s guests are come before you go yourself! I don’t just see it, Ju.”

“Guests! What nonsense! The Emperor and all the Royal Family! As if it were like any other party. Such a thing, probably, never happened before, and never will happen again. If you don’t go, Damask, I must; and I will.” Sir Damask, after groaning and smoking for half a minute, said that he would go. He made many remonstrances. It was a confounded bore. He hated emperors and he hated princes. He hated the whole box and dice of that sort of thing! He “wished to goodness” that he had dined at his club and sent word up home that the affair was to be off. But at last he submitted, and allowed his wife to leave the room with the intention of sending for a cab. The cab was sent for and announced, but Sir Damask would not stir till he had finished his big cigar.

It was past ten when he left his own house. On arriving in Grosvenor Square he could at once see that the party was going on. The house was illuminated. There was a concourse of servants round the door, and half the square was already blocked up with carriages. It was not without delay that he got to the door, and when there he saw the royal liveries. There was no doubt about the party. The Emperor and the Princes and the Princesses were all there. As far as Sir Damask could then perceive, the dinner had been quite a success. But again there was a delay in getting away, and it was nearly eleven before he could reach home. “It’s all right,” said he to his wife. “They’re there, safe enough.”

“You are sure that the Emperor is there.”

“As sure as a man can be without having seen him.”

Miss Longestaffe was present at this moment, and could not but resent what appeared to be a most unseemly slur cast upon her friends. “I don’t understand it at all,” she said. “Of course the Emperor is there. Everybody has known for the last month that he was coming. What is the meaning of it, Julia?”

“My dear, you must allow me to manage my