CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE PURPLE TEA.
"The Earl of Marmouth sends his regards. He will be unable to join us."Tristram March held a coroneted note in his hands while he made thisannouncement to the company. There was a faint salvo of regrets, meantfor the Violet's ears. Only Miss Milly Mills was heard remarking, sottovoce:
"I'm glad the old bear is chained for once."
"But the grizzly is grand in its den, dear," chided Dorothea Goodbody, alittle louder.
"True. We do not fit everywhere," said the Violet, who had overheardthem. "Imagine Thoreau in a salon."
"Or Talleyrand in the Walden woods," added Count L'Alienado.
More than one of the company had noted this as the third occasion onwhich his noble lordship avoided a meeting with the count. Was it thatin the reserved Spaniard he had encountered a force which he could notoverbear? Or was he jealous of the count's attention to the Violet?Twice at the Ryecroft's hop she had inadvertently answered the slenderforeigner and turned her smooth, brown shoulder to the Englishman.
"Well," said Tristram, "the menagerie must perform without its lion."
"How flattering, brother!" cried Rosalie. Harry Arnold was leaning overher chair. "You compare us to wolves and panthers."
"Not unhappily," said the Violet. "Mine host is clever. He will put usall in an apologue like Aesop's. I am curious to see how I shall betransformed."
"The mood is wanting," cried Tristram, while the young ladies secondedthe suggestion. "I am savage. I should affront you all with some furioussatire."
"Imagine Tristram furious," said Harry.
"A smothered volcano. I have committed to-day the sin against the HolyGhost. Guess what that is?"
"Success," said the Violet.
"Candor," the count.
"Bachelorhood," Miss Milly Mills.
"Punning," his sister Rosalie.
But Tristram shook his head drearily at each response.
"Well, then, tell us," cried a chorus of impatient voices.
"I have prostituted art to lucre--having disposed of my great design ofAjax's shield--for what purpose, do you think?"
All the guesses were wild again.
"For a bed-spread," said Tristram, and there was a chorus of laughter,amid which the circle broke up into little moving knots, allelectrically united, however, so that the talk flew from one part of theroom to another.
It was one of Tristram's soirees, which were the events of the season inLenox. The flavor of art was substituted for that of artificiality, andusually some souvenir, bearing the touch of the host's own fancifulhand, was carried away by each of the guests. The coveted invitation forthis night's affair announced "a purple tea," and the furnishingsverified the description. Rich muslin shades over the chandeliers(Rosalie's work) purpled all the atmosphere of the parlors. Purplehangings here and there carried out the suggestion, but not tooobtrusively, and each of the guests appeared with some purple garment.
Among the ladies these generally verged toward the wine-colored shades,for they were all too young to carry well the full warmth of the Tyrian.Thus the Violet's mantilla, Rosalie's cloud, Harry Arnold's sash, wereall steeped to the same dye, now the crimson, now the blue elementprevailing in the mixture. Count L'Alienado alone appeared to haveevaded the rule until, raising his right hand to smell a rose, hescattered a pencil of purple light from an opalescent stone which nonepresent were learned enough in lapidary science to name.
"Let's have tableau charades!" cried Miss Milly Mills, who flitted fromperson to person, from subject to subject, like a butterfly, and wasaccused of a partiality for spruce gum. The suggestion was taken up withapproval, and nearly every one present acted out the first word thatcame to him on the spur of the moment.
Tristram gave what he called a definition of himself in lengthypantomime which no one could fathom. So he was obliged to explain thatmeed--eye--ochre--tea, summed up "mediocrity," at which one and allprotested. Most of the other attempts were quite as laborious. But whenthe Violet stepped forward and trilled an upper C, then buzzed like aninsect and put her right foot forward, there was a unanimous cry of"Trilby!" and the flatness began to be taken out of the game.
Then the pleasures grew more miscellaneous and Count L'Alienado foundhimself for a time alone on the outer balcony with Mme. Violet. The skywas starlit above, the shadows lay deep in the garden bushes below, andthe diamonds burned amid her braids. They talked of the Persian poetstill the light voice of Tristram within interrupted them and a rippleof laughter from the purple interior reached their ears.
"Ah, this is not fair; that our wisest and wittiest should impoverishthe company by their absence. Your places are waiting and the bell istired of tinkling to you."
"We were lost among the stars," replied Count L'Alienado.
Opposite the count sat Harry Arnold; opposite the Violet, Rosalie.Waiters were serving refreshments, and a purple tea was poured into thewine-colored cups. On each table lay a souvenir containing verse orprose by Tristram March, with fantastic decorations in the border. HarryArnold was just passing the souvenir of their table to Rosalie. Itcontained a caricature in profile of Tristram himself, and a brief"Autobiography," which Harry read aloud:
"I went to school To Ridicule. He taught me civility, The peacock humility, Depth and subtility Feste, the fool.
Meeker and meeker becomes my mood From studying Conscious Rectitude; And if my speech be firm and pat, Madam Garrulity taught me that."
"Oh, I hate sarcasm," burst out Rosalie. "Why won't you be literal,commonplace, something positive, if it's only a woman-hater?"
"An abominable fault, brother Tristram," said Harry, sternly.
"Hideous!" cried the others, drowning poor Rosalie's homily in a floodof irony more heartless than Tristram's own.
Then Rosalie gave him up as incorrigible.
"I wonder if Count L'Alienado's jewel has not a legend attached to it?"said some one.
"It is an alamandine ruby from Siam," began the count.
"Oh, do go on," cried Miss Milly Mills from the rear, who had beenlistening over her shoulder. "Tell us the story. I'm sure it will bebetter than Cleverly's last book."
"Oh, if it isn't better than that----"
"But the setting was fresh," said Tristram, who was Cleverly's friend."He rehangs his gallery well, even if the portraits are familiar."
"This talisman of mine has indeed a story attached to it," said CountL'Alienado at last, "but you may read hundreds better in any book oforiental tales. Its quality, however, is curious. You know thatmesmerism has long been known in the east, and that many of the occultfeats of the Hindoo magicians are ascribed to that power. It was an Arabcaliph who first attributed to this stone the quality of securingimmunity to its possessor from the magic trance. As a matter of fact, Ihave never been hypnotized while I wore it."
"A challenge, Harry," said Tristram.
"You possess the power?" asked the count.
"So I am told," laughed Harry.
"People go to sleep at his bidding," said Tristram. "He is the surestrecipe I have seen for insomnia."
"Except the Rev. Dr. Fourthly," whispered Miss Milly Mills, but at thisDorothea Goodbody looked shocked.
"Shall I hypnotize you, Rosalie?" smiled Harry to his sweetheart.
But Rosalie shook her head with a little shudder.
"The count," said the Violet.
"The count! Hypnotize the count!" a chorus echoed.
"Very well," said the Spaniard; "a moment till I invoke the genii of thecarbuncle. Now."
"Are you ready?" said Harry, laughing a little awkwardly. He made one ortwo cabalistic passes with his hands, looking straight into the eyes ofthe count. They were large burning eyes, the like of which Harry hadnever met before. Gazing into their depths, he seemed to feel a newspell. They were drawing him, drawing his soul away. Other objectsdisappeared. Rosalie, Tristram, the Violet--he clutched at them, butthey were gone. The count himself grew shadowy
. Only his eyes--fixed,haunting, luminous--remained, centering a vast drab vault, which was allthat was left of the populous world and its occupants. What could Harrydo but surrender his faculties and be absorbed like the rest?
"It is Harry who is hypnotized," cried Tristram. Rosalie fixed her gazeon her lover's face.
"Raise your right hand," said the count. Harry obeyed. His stare wasglassy, his lower lip stupidly dropped.
"Do you know this glove?" asked the count, raising a lemon-colored kid.
"I do," came the answer, mechanical, monotonous.
"Try it on."
Harry drew the glove on his right hand, his eyes never leaving those ofthe count.
"Button it tightly," said the Spaniard. "Do you remember where you worethis glove last?"
"I do."
"Can you see the side door opening from the passageway?"
"I can."
"Do you recognize the youth who is entering?"
"I do."
"Is it Harry Arnold?"
"It is Harry Arnold."
"Does he listen cautiously?"
"He listens cautiously."
"Does he climb the stairs softly?"
"He climbs the stairs softly."
"Does he enter the study?"
The young man's face twitched and convulsed. His eyes started from theirsockets. The foam rose to his lips as they worked.
"Harry!"
It was the agonized cry of Rosalie March, throwing herself upon herlover and turning defiantly at Count L'Alienado, whose fierce insistencehad amazed the onlookers. The spell seemed to be broken, for Harry sunkfrom his chair, supported by Rosalie's arms.
"Some wine," cried Tristram, chafing Harry's forehead and gentlystriving to unclasp his sister's arms. But she clung to her sweetheartwith love in her eyes.
Count L'Alienado approached the unconscious man, the crowd partingbefore him.
"Wake!" he said, "and forget!" Harry's eyes shut naturally and thenopened. He drank the wine which Rosalie pressed to his lips. In a fewminutes he was erect, eagerly questioning the company.
"Call it a faint," said Count L'Alienado, quietly. "It is better that heshould not know."
"But what was it all about?" asked Miss Milly Mills, on tiptoe withcuriosity.
"Only an experiment in clairvoyance," answered Count L'Alienado.
The Incendiary: A Story of Mystery Page 39
