“Damaged! I should rather think so! They haven’t got any arms either! Well, if this don’t beat the Dutch! And just look at this, Kit!”
“Birth of Athene from the brain of Zeus,” said Kitty, consulting the catalogue.
“Birth of Athene from what!”
“The central groups, which are the most important features of the composition, are missing,” said Kitty, in propitiating accents. “And the catalogue says that the metopes are not in good preservation either, so perhaps we should just study the frieze, which is excessively beautiful!”
But the disclosure that he had been maced of his blunt by a set of persons whom he freely characterized as hell-kites only to see a collection of marbles of which the main parts were missing so worked upon him that he could not be brought to recognize the merits of the frieze, but seemed instead to be so much inclined to seek out the author of this attempt to gull the public that Kitty hastily announced her wish to visit St. Paul’s Cathedral, and coaxed him out of the building.
During the drive to the City, Kitty diligently studied her handbook. She was conscious of a slight feeling of fatigue, so when she discovered that the guide thought poorly of the interior of St. Paul’s, likening it, in fact, to a vast vault, she fell in with Freddy’s suggestion that they should content themselves with a view of the exterior. After this, she thought, they ought to drive to Cornhill, to look at the Bank of England, and the Royal Exchange. But here again the Picture of London came to Freddy’s rescue. “It is unnecessary to describe minutely such architecture as that of the Royal Exchange,” stated the guide austerely. “It is of a mixed kind, in bad taste.”
“Well, there’s no sense in going to look at that!” said Freddy, relieved. “What’s it say about the Bank of England?”
“ ‘One of the wonders of commerce; and one of the abortions of art,’ “ read out Miss Charing.
“Is it, though? Well, that settles it! We needn’t go to Cornhill at all. You know, Kit, that’s a dashed good book! We can go home now!”
“Yes, for we should scarcely have time to visit the Tower, I suppose,” agreed Kitty. “Only do you think we should see some of the prisons?”
“See the prisons?” exclaimed Freddy. “Why?”
“Well, I don’t precisely know, but the book says that ‘no stranger who visits London should omit to view these mansions of misery’.”
But Freddy decided that they had had enough misery for one day, and bade the coachman drive back to Berkeley Square, reminding Miss Charing, when she suggested that they ought, perhaps, to pause at the Temple on the way, that since she was accompanying Meg to an informal party that evening it would not do for her to be late in returning home. She agreed to this, consoling herself with the reflection that the Temple might easily be visited on their way to the Tower on the morrow.
Freddy groaned, but attempted no remonstrance. Any hope that he might have cherished that Miss Charing would be too weary to embark upon a second voyage of exploration was slain by her appearance on the following morning, dressed in a very smart habit, and obviously in fine fettle. She took her place beside him in the carriage, drew the Picture of London from her muff, and proved to him, by reading aloud from this book, that it clearly behoved her to see the Guildhall on the way to the Tower. This ordeal behind them, the rest of the day was spent more agreeably than Freddy had expected. He would not have chosen to waste his time in such a fashion, and he could only deprecate Miss Charing’s determination to omit no corner of the various buildings from her tour; but he was pleasantly surprised to find that the Tower housed a fine collection o< wild beasts; and he was even roused to real interest in the Mint, where they were allowed to watch the stamping of various coins. A tendency on Miss Charing’s part to brood over the sufferings of such former visitors to the Tower as Lady Jane Grey and Sir Walter Raleigh he quelled, saying that there was no sense in falling into a fit of the dismals about things which had happened in the Middle Ages; and a moving account of the behaviour of the Princess Elizabeth at the Traitors’ Gate quite failed to impress him.
“Silly thing to do!” he remarked. “Shouldn’t wonder at it if she caught a chill. I had an uncle who got soaked to the skin once. Had an inflammation of the lungs. Dead as a herring within the week. Come along, let us take a look at this Ladies’ Line they talk about!”
It was upon their return from this expedition, and while Kitty was still describing to Meg some of the tilings she had seen, that Mr. Jack Westruther paid a formal call in Berkeley Square, and brought with him the Chevalier d’Evron.
Any apprehensions engendered by Freddy’s gloomy forebodings were put to flight on the instant. The Chevalier was a handsome young man, with a lively, intelligent pair of eyes, beautifully glossy locks of a light brown, cut and curled d la cherubim, and an air and deportment worthy of the first circles. His long-tailed coat of bottle-green had obviously been fashioned for him by a master; his fawn pantaloons admirably became a pair of really excellent legs; his linen was meticulously starched; and his Hessian boots would have furnished anyone with a very tolerable mirror. If Mr. Westruther, a careless beau, thought those cherubim ringlets a trifle effeminate; and Mr. Standen, a high stickler, considered the Chevalier’s waistcoat to be rather too florid, these were faults of style which the ladies were easily able to overlook. The Chevalier’s bow almost put Freddy’s to shame; air and address were alike distinguished; and when, to the advantages of a handsome face and a good figure, he was found to add a very slight foreign accent to his speech his success with the fair sex was assured.
Kitty, who had been staring at him while he bowed over Meg’s hand, exclaimed suddenly: “But—You are Camille!”
He turned towards her, smiling. “But yes! I am Camille, little cousin! I did not dare to think that I could hold a place in your memory. Tell me, I beg of you!—did she long survive my surgery, that blonde beauty? Alas, that I should have forgotten her name!”
She laughed, warmly shaking hands with him. “Rosabel —and indeed she survived for many years! I am so happy to see you again! I hope my uncle, and your brother, are both well.’”
“I thank you, very well. And your amiable guardian?”
“Yes, indeed. Are you—upon a visit to England? Where do you stay?”
He told her that he was lodging in Duke Street, which, however little it might convey to country-bred Kitty, served to convince Meg that his domicile was as unimpeachable as his manners. Very well-pleased to add so personable a young man to her circle, she extended to him an invitation to a ;,rnall rout-party she was holding three days later. He accepted with just the right degree of gratitude, and took his leave, after a visit lasting for a correct half-hour, in an atmosphere of general approval, even Freddy acknowledging that he seemed to be a tolerable fellow. It had transpired, during the course of conversation, that he, like Lady liuckhaven and the engaged couple, meant to be present at the Non-Pareil Theatre that evening, to see a new play which was being put on there; he begged to be allowed to visit her ladyship’s box during the interval, was accorded a gracious permission, and bowed himself out in a manner which led Meg to say that only a man accustomed to move in the world of ton could get himself out of a room with such ease and grace.
Kitty was so much delighted to have met again one of whom she cherished the kindest memories that her transports might have been expected to have cast her betrothed into agonies of jealousy. Mr. Standen managed without effort to preserve his equanimity, a fact of which his cousin’s .irnused eyes took due note.
“Seems a good enough sort of a fellow,” Freddy said cautiously. “Mind, I didn’t like his waistcoat, but, then, I Jon’t like yours either, coz, so I daresay it don’t signify. Where did you meet him? I haven’t seen him before.”
“But you have been in Leicestershire, Freddy,” Jack reminded him. “I fancy the Chevalier has not long been amongst us, though I am told that he was reared in England.”