In the meantime the hour of dinner is at hand. Coningsby, who had lost the key of his carpet-bag, which he finally cut open with a penknife that he found on his writing-table, and the blade of which he broke in the operation, only reached the drawing-room as the figure of his grandfather, leaning on his ivory cane, and following his guests, was just visible in the distance. He was soon overtaken. Perceiving Coningsby, Lord Monmouth made him a bow, not so formal a one as in the morning, but still a bow, and said, I hope you liked your drive.
CHAPTER VI
A little dinner, not more than the Muses, with all the guests clever, and some pretty, offers human life and human nature under very favourable circumstances. In the present instance, too, every one was anxious to please, for the host was entirely well-bred, never selfish in little things, and always contributed his quota to the general fund of polished sociability.
Although there was really only one thought in every male mind present, still, regard for the ladies, and some little apprehension of the servants, banished politics from discourse during the greater part of the dinner, with the occasional exception of some rapid and flying allusion which the initiated understood, but which remained a mystery to the rest. Nevertheless an old story now and then well told by Mr. Ormsby, a new joke now and then well introduced by Mr. Gay, some dashing assertion by Mr. Rigby, which, though wrong, was startling; this agreeable blending of anecdote, jest, and paradox, kept everything fluent, and produced that degree of mild excitation which is desirable. Lord Monmouth sometimes summed up with an epigrammatic sentence, and turned the conversation by a question, in case it dwelt too much on the same topic. Lord Eskdale addressed himself principally to the ladies; inquired after their morning drive and doings, spoke of new fashions, and quoted a letter from Paris. Madame Colonna was not witty, but she had that sweet Roman frankness which is so charming. The presence of a beautiful woman, natural and good-tempered, even if she be not a LEspinasse or a De Stael, is animating.
Nevertheless, owing probably to the absorbing powers of the forbidden subject, there were moments when it seemed that a pause was impending, and Mr. Ormsby, an old hand, seized one of these critical instants to address a good-natured question to Coningsby, whose acquaintance he had already cultivated by taking wine with him.
And how do you like Eton? asked Mr. Ormsby.
It was the identical question which had been presented to Coningsby in the memorable interview of the morning, and which had received no reply; or rather had produced on his part a sentimental ebullition that had absolutely destined or doomed him to the Church.
I should like to see the fellow who did not like Eton, said Coningsby, briskly, determined this time to be very brave.
Gad I must go down and see the old place, said Mr. Ormsby, touched by a pensive reminiscence. One can get a good bed and bottle of port at the Christopher, still?
You had better come and try, sir, said Coningsby. If you will come some day and dine with me at the Christopher, I will give you such a bottle of champagne as you never tasted yet.
The Marquess looked at him, but said nothing.
Ah! I liked a dinner at the Christopher, said Mr. Ormsby; after mutton, mutton, mutton, every day, it was not a bad thing.
We had venison for dinner every week last season, said Coningsby; Buckhurst had it sent up from his park. But I dont care for dinner. Breakfast is my lounge.
Ah! those little rolls and pats of butter! said Mr. Ormsby. Short commons, though. What do you think we did in my time? We used to send over the way to get a mutton-chop.
I wish you could see Buckhurst and me at breakfast, said Coningsby, with a pound of Castles sausages!
What Buckhurst is that, Harry? inquired Lord Monmouth, in a tone of some interest, and for the first time calling him by his Christian name.
Sir Charles Buckhurst, sir, a Berkshire man: Shirley Park is his place.
Why, that must be Charleys son, Eskdale, said Lord Monmouth; I had no idea he could be so young.
He married late, you know, and had nothing but daughters for a long time.
Well, I hope there will be no Reform Bill for Eton, said Lord Monmouth, musingly.
The servants had now retired.
I think, Lord Monmouth, said Mr. Rigby, we must ask permission to drink one toast to-day.
Nay, I will myself give it, he replied. Madame Colonna, you will, I am sure, join us when we drink, THE DUKE!
Ah! what a man! exclaimed the Princess. What a pity it is you have a House of Commons here! England would be the greatest country in the world if it were not for that House of Commons. It makes so much confusion!
Dont abuse our property, said Lord Eskdale; Lord Monmouth and I have still twenty votes of that same body between us.
And there is a combination, said Rigby, by which you may still keep them.
Ah! now for Rigbys combination, said Lord Eskdale.
The only thing that can save this country, said Rigby, is a coalition on a sliding scale.