Complete Works of Joseph Conrad (Illustrated)

by Joseph Conrad

  “Not enough difficulties,” said the ambassador blandly. “I mean for the good of all concerned.”

  “Ah,” said Cosmo, and repeated thoughtfully, “All concerned! The other day in Paris I met Mr. Wycher-ley on his way home. He seemed to have had no difficulty at all, not even in Elba. We had quite a long-audience. Mr. Wycherley struck me as a man of blunt feelings. Apparently the Emperor — after all, the imperial title is not taken away from him yet-”

  The Marquis lowered his head slowly. “No, not yet.”

  “Well, the Emperor said to him: ‘You have come here to look at a wild beast,’ and Mr. Wycherley, who doesn’t seem to be at a loss for words, answered at once: ‘I have come here to look at a great man.’ WTiat a crude answer! He is telling this story to everybody. He told me he is going to publish a pamphlet about his visit.”

  “Mr. Wycherley is a man of good company. His answer was polite. What would have been yours, my young friend?”

  “I don’t think I will ever be called to make any sort of answer to the great man,” said Cosmo.

  The Marquis got up with the words: “I think that on the whole you will be wise not to waste your time. I have here a letter from the French Consul in Leghorn quoting the latest report he had from Elba. It states that Bonaparte remains shut up for days together in his private apartments. The reason given is that he fears attempts on his life being made by emissaries sent from France and Italy. He is not visible. Another report states that lately he has expressed great uneasiness at the movements of the French and English frigates.”

  The Marquis laid a friendly hand on Cosmo’s shoulder. “ You cannot complain of me; I have given you the very latest intelligence. And now let us join whatever company my daughter is receiving. I think very few people.” He crossed the room, followed by Cosmo, and Cosmo noticed a distinct lameness in his gait. At the moment of opening the door the Marquis d’Armand said:

  “Your arm, irion jeune ami. I am suffering from rheumatism considerably this evening.”

  Cosmo hastened to offer his arm, and the Marquis with his hand on the door said:

  “I can hardly walk. I hope I shall be able to go to the audience I have to-morrow with the King of Sardinia. He is an excellent man but all his ideas and feelings came to a standstill in ‘98. It makes all conversation with him extremely difficult even for me. His ministers are more reasonable, but that is only because they are afraid.”

  A low groan escaped the ambassador. He remained leaning with one hand on Cosmo’s shoulder and with the other clinging to the door-handle.

  “Afraid of the people?” asked Cosmo.

  “The people are being corrupted by secret societies,’“ the Marquis said in his bland tone. “All Italy is seething with conspiracies. What, however, they are most afraid of is the Man of Elba.”

  Cosmo for an instant wondered at those confidences, but a swift reflection that probably those things were known to everybody who was anybody in Europe made him think that this familiar talk was merely the effect of the Marquis’s kindness to the son of his old friend. “I think I can proceed now,” said the Marquis, pushing the door open. Cosmo recognized one of the rooms which he had passed in the morning. It was the only one of the suite which was fully lighted by a great central glass chandelier, but even in that only two rows of candles were lighted. It was a small reception. The rest of the suite presented but a dim per- spective. A semi-circle of heavy armchairs was sparsely occupied by less than a dozen ladies. There was only one card table in use. All the faces were turned to the opening door, and Cosmo was struck by the expression of profound surprise on them all. In one or two it resembled thunderstruck imbecility. It didn’t occur to him that the entrance of the French King’s personal representative leaning on the shoulder of a completely unknown young man was enough to cause a sensation. A group of elderly personages, conversing in a remote part of the room, became silent. The Marquis gave a general greeting by an inclination of his head, and Cosmo felt himself impelled towards a console between two windows against which the Marquis leaned, whispering to him, “If I were to sit down it would be such an affair to get up.” The Countess de Montevesso advanced quickly across the room. Cosmo noticed that her dress had a long train. She smiled at Cosmo and said to the Marquis anxiously:

  “You are in pain, Papa?”

  “A little. . . . Take him away, my dear, now. He was good enough to lend me his shoulder as far as this.”

  “ Venez, M. Latham,” said Adele, “I must introduce you at once to Lady William Bentick in order to check wild speculation about the appearance of a mysterious stranger. As it is, all the town will be full of rumours. People will be talking about you this very night.”

  Cosmo followed Adele across the room. She moved slowly and talked easily with a flattering air of intimacy. She even stopped for a moment under the great chandelier. “Lady Wrilliam is talking now with Count Bubna,” she explained to Cosmo, who took a rapid survey of a tall, stout man in an Austrian general’s uniform, with his hair tied up in a queue, with black mous- taches and something cynical though not ill-natured in his expression. That personage interrupted suddenly his conversation with a lady, no longer very young, who was dressed very simply, and made his way to the ambassador, giving in passing a faintly caustic smile and a keen glance to Cosmo.

  “Let me introduce to you Mr. Cosmo Latham,” said Adele. “He is the son of my father’s very old friend. He and I haven’t met since we were children together in Yorkshire. He has just arrived here.”

  Cosmo bowed, and in response to a slight gesture took a seat close to the lady, whose preoccupied air struck him with a sort of wonder. She seemed to have something on her mind. Cosmo could know nothing of the prevalent gossip that it was only the black eyes of Louise Durazzo that were detaining Lord William ki Italy. He explained in answer to a careless inquiry as to the latest news from Paris that he had been travelling very leisurely and that he could not possibly have brought any fresh news. Lady William looked at him as if she had not seen him before.

  “Oh, I am not very much interested in the news, except in so far that they may make a longer stay here unnecessary for us.”

  “I suppose everybody wants to see the shape of the civilized world settled at last,” said Cosmo politely.

  “All I want is to go home,” declared Lady William. She was no longer looking at him and had the appearance of a person not anxious to listen to anybody’s conversation. Cosmo glanced about the room. The card game had been resumed. The Austrian general was talking to the Marquis with Madame de Montevesso standing close to them, while other persons kept at a respectful distance. Lady William seemed to be following her own thoughts with a sort of impassive ab- straction. Cosmo felt himself at liberty to go on with his observations, and sweeping his glance round noticed, sitting half hidden by the back of the armchair Adele had vacated, the dark girl with round black eyes, whom he had seen that morning. To his extreme surprise she smiled at him and, not content with that, gave other plain signs of recognition. He thought he could do no less than get up and make her a bow. By the time he sat down again he became aware that he had attracted the notice of all the ladies seated before the fire. One of them put up her eyeglasses to look at him, two others started talking low together with side glances in his direction, and there was not one that did not look interested. This disturbed him much less than the fixed stare of the young creature, which became fastened on him unwinkingly. Even Lady William gave him a short look of curiosity.

  “I understand that you have just arrived in Genoa.”

  “Yes. Yesterday afternoon late. This is my first appearance.”

  He meant that it was his first appearance in society and he continued:

  “And I don’t know a single person in this room even by name. Of course I know that it is Count Bubna who is talking to the Marquis, but that is all.”

  “Ah,” said Lady William with a particular intonation which made Cosmo wonder what he could have said to provoke scepti
cism. But Lady William was asking herself how it was that this young Englishman seemed to be familiar with the freakish girl who was an object of many surmises in Genoa, and whose company, it was understood, Count Helion of Montevesso had imposed upon his wife. Meantime Cosmo, with the eyes of all the women concentrated upon him with complete frankness, began to feel uncomfortable. Lady William noticed it and out of pure kindness spoke to him again.

  “If I understood rightly you have known Madame de Montevesso from childhood.”

  “I can’t call myself really a childhood’s friend. I was so much away from home,” explained Cosmo. “But she lived for some years in my parents’ house and everybody loved her there; my mother, my father, my sister — and it seems to me, looking back now, that I too must have loved her at that time; though we very seldom exchanged more than a few words in the course of the day.”

  He spoke with feeling and glanced in the direction of the group near the console where the head of Adele appeared radiant under the sparkling crystals of the lustre. Lady William, bending sideways a little, leaned her cheek against her hand in a listening attitude. Cosmo felt that he was expected to go on speaking, but it seemed to him that he had nothing more to say. He fell back upon a general remark.

  “I think boys are very stupid creatures. However, I wasn’t so stupid as not to feel that Adele d’Armand was very intelligent and quite different from us all. Her very gentleness set her apart. Moreover, Henrietta and I were younger. To my sister and myself she seemed almost grown up. A couple of years makes a very great difference at that age. Soon after she went away we children heard that she was married. She seemed lost to us then. Presently she went back to France, and once there she was lost indeed. When one looked towards France in those days it seems to me there was nothing to be seen but Napoleon. And then her marriage, too. A Countess de Montevesso didn’t mean anything to us. I came here expecting to see a stranger.”

  Cosmo checked himself. It was impossible to say whether Lady William had heard him, or even whether she had been listening at all, but she asked:

  “You never met Count Helion?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea of the man. He is not in this room, is he? WThat is he like?”

  Lady William looked amused for a moment at the artless curiosity of the Countess de Montevesso’s young friend; but it was in an indifferent tone that she said:

  “ Count Helion is a man of immense wealth which he amassed in India somewhere. He is much older than his wife. More than twice her age.” Cosmo showed his surprise, and Lady William continued smoothly: “Of course all the world knows that Adele has been a model wife.”

  Cosmo noted the faintest possible shade of emphasis on those last words and thought to himself: “That means she is not happy and that the world knows it.” But, several men having approached the circle, the conversation became general. He vacated his seat by the side of Lady William and got introduced by Adele to several people, amongst whom was a delicate young woman splendidly dressed and of a slightly Jewish type who, though she was the wife of General Count Bubna, commander-in-chief of the Austrian troops and the representative of Austria at the Court of Turin, behaved with a strange timidity and appeared almost too shy to speak. A simple Madame Ferrati, or so at least Cosmo heard her name, a lady with white tousled hair, had an aggreasive manner. Cosmo remarked in the course of the evening that she seemed rather to be persecuting Lady William, who, however, remained amiably abstracted and did not seem to mind anything. The Marquis, getting away from the console, had seated himself near the little Madame Bubna. This, Cosmo thought, was an unavoidable sort of thing for him to do.

  A young man with a grave manner and something malicious in his eye, apparently a First Secretary of the Embassy, informed Cosmo shortly after they had been made known to each other that “the wife of the general would not naturally be received in Vienna society,” and that this was the secret of Bubna sticking to his Italian command so long, even now when really all the excitement was over. Of course he was very much in love with his wife. He used to give her balls twice a week at the expense of the Turin Municipality. Old Bubna understood the art of pillaging to perfection, but apart from that he was a parfait galant homme and an able soldier. Bonaparte had a very great liking for him. Bubna was the only friend Bonaparte had in this room. He meant sympathy as man for man. Years ago when Bubna was in Paris he got on very well with the Emperor. Bonaparte knew how to flatter a man. It was worth while to sit up half the night to hear Bubna talking about Bonaparte “I am posting you up like this,” concluded the secretary, “because I see you are in the intimacy of the Marquis and of Madame de Montevesso here.”

  He went away then to talk to somebody else, and presently Madame de Montevesso, passing close to Cosmo, whispered to him, “Stay to the last,” and went on without waiting for his answer. Cosmo amongst all the groups engaged in animated conversation felt rather lonely, totally estranged from the ideas those people were expressing to each other. He could not possibly be in sympathy with the fears and the hopes, strictly personal, and with the royalist-legitimist enthusiasms of these advocates of an order of things that had been buried for a quarter of a century and now was paraded like a rouged and powdered corpse putting on a swagger of life and revenge. Then he reflected that in this room, at any rate, it was probably nothing but scandalous gossip and trivial talk of futile intrigues. There was no need for him to be indignant. He was even amused at himself, and looking about him in a kindlier frame of mind he perceived that the person nearest to him was that strange girl with the round eyes. She had kept perfectly still on her uncomfortable stool like a captured savage. Her green flounced skirt was spread on each side of the seat. The bodice of her dress, which was black, was cut low, her bare arms were youthfully red and immature. Her hair was done up smoothly and pulled up from her forehead in the manner of the portraits of the 15th Century.

  “Why do they dress her in this bizarre manner?” thought Cosmo. It couldn’t be Adele’s conception. Perhaps of the Count himself. Yet that didn’t seem likely. Perhaps it was her own atrocious taste. But if so it ought to have been repressed. He reflected that there could be nothing improper in him talking to the niece of the house. He would try his conversational Italian. W7ith the feeling of venturing on a doubtful experiment he approached her from the back, sat down at her elbow, and waited. She could not possibly remain unaware of him being there.

  At last she turned her head for a point-blank stare, and once she had her eyes on him she never attempted to take them away. Cosmo uttered carefully a complimentary phrase about her dress, which was received in perfect silence. Her carmine lips remained as still as her round black eyes for quite a long time. Suddenly in a low tone, with an accent which surprised Cosmo but which he supposed to be Piedmontese, and with a sort of spiteful triumph, she said:

  “I knew very well it would suit me. You think it does?”

  Her whole personality had such an aggressive mien that Cosmo, startled and amused, hastened to say, “Undoubtedly,” lest she should fly at his eyes.

  She showed him her teeth in a grin of savage complacency, and the subject seemed exhausted. Cosmo set himself the task to daunt her by a steady gaze. In less than two seconds he regretted his venture. He felt certain that she would not be the one to look away first. There was not the slightest doubt about that. In order to cover his retreat he let his eyes wander vaguely about the room, smiled agreeably, and said:

  “Your uncle is not here. Shall I have the pleasure of seeing him this evening?”

  “No,” she said. “You won’t see him this evening. But he knows you have been here this morning.”

  This was, strictly speaking, news to Cosmo, but he said at once and with great indifference:

  “Why shouldn’t he? Probably Madame de Montevesso has told him. I used to know your aunt when she was younger than you are, signorina.” “How do you know how old I am?” Cosmo asked himself if she would ever wink those black eyes of hers.

&nbs
p; “I know that you are not a hundred years old.” This struck her as humorous, because there was a sound as of a faint giggle which, generally speaking, is a silly kind of sound but in her case had a disturbing quality. It was followed by the hoarse declaration:

  “Aunt didn’t. I told Uncle. I looked a lot at you in the morning. Why didn’t you look at me? “

  “I was afraid of being indiscreet,” said Cosmo readily, concealing his astonishment.

  “What silliness,” she commented scornfully. “And this evening too! I was looking at you all the time and you did nothing but look at all those witches here, one after another.”

  “I find all the ladies in the room perfectly charming,” said Cosmo.

  “You lie. I suppose you do nothing else from morning till night.”

  “I am sorry you have such a bad opinion of me, but it being what it is, hadn’t I better go away? “

  “Directly I set eyes on you I knew you were one of that sort.”

  “And did you impart your opinion of me to your uncle?” asked Cosmo. He could be no more offended with that girl than if shehad been an unmannerly animal. Her peculiar stare remained unchanged but her general expression softened for a moment.

  “No. But I took care to tell him that you were a very handsome gentleman. . . . You are a very handsome gentleman.”

  What surprised Cosmo was not the downright statement but the thought that flashed through his mind that it was as dreadful as being told that one was good to eat. For a time he stared without any thought of unwinking competition. He was not amused. Distinctly not. He asked: