CHAPTER III.
_A New Star Rises_
ANOTHER season had arrived, another of those magical periods of whichone had already witnessed his unparalleled triumphs, and from whichhe had derived such exquisite delight. To his surprise, he viewed itsarrival without emotion; if with any feeling, with disgust.
He had quaffed the cup too eagerly. The draught had been delicious; buttime also proved that it had been satiating. Was it possible for hisvanity to be more completely gratified than it had been? Was it possiblefor victories to be more numerous and more unquestioned during thecoming campaign than during the last? Had not his life, then, been onelong triumph? Who had not offered their admiration? Who had not paidhomage to his all-acknowledged empire? Yet, even this career, howeverdazzling, had not been pursued, even this success, however brilliant,had not been attained, without some effort and some weariness, also someexhaustion. Often, as he now remembered, had his head ached; more thanonce, as now occurred to him, had his heart faltered. Even his firstseason had not passed over without his feeling lone in the crowdedsaloon, or starting at the supernatural finger in the banqueting-hall.Yet then he was the creature of excitement, who pursued an end whichwas as indefinite as it seemed to be splendid. All had now happened thatcould happen. He drooped. He required the impulse which we derive froman object unattained.
Yet, had he exhausted life at two-and-twenty? This must not be. Hisfeelings must be more philosophically accounted for. He began to suspectthat he had lived too much for the world and too little for himself;that he had sacrificed his ease to the applause of thousands, andmistaken excitement for enjoyment. His memory dwelt with satisfaction onthe hours which had so agreeably glided away at Brighton, in the choicesociety of a few intimates. He determined entirely to remodel the systemof his life; and with the sanguine impetuosity which characterised him,he, at the same moment, felt that he had at length discovered the roadto happiness, and determined to pursue it without the loss of a preciousmoment.
The Duke of St. James was seen less in the world, and he appeared butseldom at the various entertainments which he had once so adorned. Yethe did not resign his exalted position in the world of fashion; but,on the contrary, adopted a course of conduct which even increasedhis consideration. He received the world not less frequently or lesssplendidly than heretofore; and his magnificent mansion, early in theseason, was opened to the favoured crowd. Yet in that mansion, which hadbeen acquired with such energy and at such cost, its lord was almost asstrange, and certainly not as pleased, an inmate as the guests, who felttheir presence in his chambers a confirmation, or a creation, of theirclaims to the world's homage. The Alhambra was finished, and therethe Duke of St. James entirely resided; but its regal splendour wasconcealed from the prying eye of public curiosity with a proud reserve,a studied secrecy, and stately haughtiness becoming a caliph. A smallband of initiated friends alone had the occasional entree, and themysterious air which they provokingly assumed whenever they werecross-examined on the internal arrangements of this mystical structure,only increased the number and the wildness of the incidents whichdaily were afloat respecting the fantastic profusion and scientificdissipation of the youthful sultan and his envied viziers.
The town, ever since the season commenced, had been in feverishexpectation of the arrival of a new singer, whose fame had heralded herpresence in all the courts of Christendom. Whether she were an Italianor a German, a Gaul or a Greek, was equally unknown. An air of mysteryenvironed the most celebrated creature in Europe. There were oddwhispers of her parentage. Every potentate was in turn entitled to thegratitude of mankind for the creation of this marvel. Now it was anemperor, now a king. A grand duke then put in his claim, and then anarchduke. To-day she was married, tomorrow she was single. To-day herhusband was a prince incog., to-morrow a drum-major well known. Evenher name was a mystery; and she was known and worshipped throughout thewhole civilised world by the mere title of '_The Bird of Paradise!_'
About a month before Easter telegraphs announced her arrival. TheAdmiralty yacht was too late. She determined to make her firstappearance at the opera: and not only the young Duke, but even afar more exalted personage, was disappointed in the sublime idea ofanticipating the public opinion by a private concert. She was to appearfor the first time on Tuesday; the House of Commons adjourned.
The curtain is drawn up, and the house is crowded. Everybody is therewho is anybody. Protocoli, looking as full of fate as if the French wereagain on the Danube; Macaroni, as full of himself as if no other beingwere engrossing universal attention. The Premier appears far moreanxious than he does at Council, and the Duke of Burlington arranges hisfanlike screen with an agitation which, for a moment, makes him forgethis unrivalled nonchalance. Even Lady Bloomerly is in suspense, andeven Charles Annesley's heart beats. But ah! (or rather, bah!) theenthusiasm of Lady de Courcy! Even the young Guardsman, who paid herLadyship for her ivory franks by his idle presence, even he must havefelt, callous as those young Guardsmen are.
Will that bore of a tenor ever finish that provoking aria, that we haveheard so often? How drawlingly he drags on his dull, deafening--
_Eccola!_
Have you seen the primal dew ere the sun has lipped the pearl? Have youseen a summer fly, with tinted wings of shifting light, glance in theliquid noontide air? Have you marked a shooting star, or watched a younggazelle at play? Then you have seen nothing fresher, nothing brighter,nothing wilder, nothing lighter, than the girl who stands before you!She was infinitely small, fair, and bright. Her black hair was braidedin Madonnas over a brow like ivory; a deep pure pink spot gave lustreto each cheek. Her features were delicate beyond a dream! her nose quitestraight, with a nostril which would have made you crazy, if you had notalready been struck with idiocy by gazing on her mouth. She a singer!Impossible! She cannot speak. And, now we look again, she must sing withher eyes, they are so large and lustrous!
The Bird of Paradise curtsied as if she shrunk under the overwhelminggreeting, and crossed her breast with arms that gleamed like moonbeamsand hands that glittered like stars. This gave time to the _cognoscenti_to remark her costume, which was ravishing, and to try to see herfeet; but they were too small. At last Lord Squib announced that hehad discovered them by a new glass, and described them as a couple ofdiamond-claws most exquisitely finished.
She moved her head with a faint smile, as if she distrusted her powersand feared the assembly would be disappointed, and then she shot fortha note which thrilled through every heart and nearly cracked thechandelier. Even Lady Fitz-pompey said 'Brava!' As she proceeded theaudience grew quite frantic. It was agreed on all hands that miracleshad recommenced. Each air was sung only to call forth fresh exclamationsof 'Miracolo!' and encores were as unmerciful as an usurper.
Amid all this rapture the young Duke was not silent. His box was on thestage; and ever and anon the syren shot a glance which seemed to tellhim that he was marked out amid this brilliant multitude. Each round ofapplause, each roar of ravished senses, only added a more fearful actionto the wild purposes which began to flit about his Grace's mind. Hisimagination was touched. His old passion to be distinguished returnedin full force. This creature was strange, mysterious, celebrated. Herbeauty, her accomplishments, were as singular and as rare as her destinyand her fame. His reverie absolutely raged; it was only disturbed by herrepeated notice and his returned acknowledgments. He arose in a stateof mad excitation, once more the slave or the victim of his intoxicatedvanity. He hurried behind the scenes. He congratulated her on hersuccess, her genius, and her beauty; and, to be brief, within a week ofher arrival in our metropolis, the Bird of Paradise was fairly caged inthe Alhambra.