The Young Duke. Earl of Beaconsfield Benjamin Disraeli

gone. What could you have told them?’

      ‘Impossible! How provoking! How stupid!’

      ‘Perhaps you told them that you would return with the Fitz-pompeys, but they are gone; or Mrs. Aberleigh, and she is not here; or perhaps—but they have gone too. Everyone has gone.’

      ‘What shall I do? How distressing! I had better send. Pray send; or I will ask Lady de Courcy.’

      ‘Oh! no, no! I really did not like to see you with her. As a favour—as a favour to me, I pray you not.’

      ‘What can I do? I must send. Let me beg your Grace to send.’

      ‘Certainly, certainly; but, ten to one, there will be some mistake. There always is some mistake when you send these strangers. And, besides, I forgot all this time my carriage is here. Let it take you home.’

      ‘No, no!’

      ‘Dearest Lady Aphrodite, do not distress yourself. I can wait here till the carriage returns, or I can walk; to be sure, I can walk. Pray, pray take the carriage! As a favour—as a favour to me!’

      ‘But I cannot bear you to walk. I know you dislike walking.’

      ‘Well, then, I will wait.’

      ‘Well, if it must be so; but I am ashamed to inconvenience you. How provoking of these men! Pray, then, tell the coachman to drive fast, that you may not have to wait. I declare there is scarcely a human being in the room; and those odd people are staring so!’

      He pressed her arm as he led her to his carriage. She is in; and yet, before the door shuts, he lingers.

      ‘I shall certainly walk,’ said he. ‘I do not think the easterly wind will make me very ill. Good-bye! Oh, what a coup-de-vent!’

      ‘Let me get out, then; and pray, pray take the carriage. I would much sooner do anything than go in it. I would much rather walk. I am sure you will be ill!’

      ‘Not if I be with you.’

CHAPTER XII.

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       Royal Favour

      THERE was a brilliant levee, all stars and garters; and a splendid drawing-room, all plumes and séduisantes. Many a bright eye, as its owner fought his way down St. James’s Street, shot a wistful glance at the enchanted bow-window where the Duke and his usual companions, Sir Lucius, Charles Annesley, and Lord Squib, lounged and laughed, stretched themselves and sneered: many a bright eye, that for a moment pierced the futurity that painted her going in state as Duchess of St. James.

      His Majesty summoned a dinner party, a rare but magnificent event, and the chief of the house of Hauteville appeared among the chosen vassals. This visit did the young Duke good; and a few more might have permanently cured the conceit which the present one momentarily calmed. His Grace saw the plate, and was filled with envy; his Grace listened to his Majesty, and was filled with admiration. O, father of thy people! if thou wouldst but look a little oftener on thy younger sons, their morals and their manners might be alike improved.

      His Majesty, in the course of the evening, with his usual good-nature, signalled out for his notice the youngest, and not the least distinguished, of his guests. He complimented the young Duke on the accession to the ornaments of his court, and said, with a smile, that he had heard of conquests in foreign ones. The Duke accounted for his slight successes by reminding his Majesty that he had the honour of being his godson, and this he said in a slight and easy way, not smart or quick, or as a repartee to the royal observation; for ‘it is not decorous to bandy compliments with your Sovereign.’ His Majesty asked some questions about an Emperor or an Archduchess, and his Grace answered to the purpose, but short, and not too pointed. He listened rather than spoke, and smiled more assents than he uttered. The King was pleased with his young subject, and marked his approbation by conversing with that unrivalled affability which is gall to a Roundhead and inspiration to a Cavalier. There was a bon mot, which blazed with all the soft brilliancy of sheet lightning. What a contrast to the forky flashes of a regular wit! Then there was an anecdote of Sheridan—the royal Sheridaniana are not thrice-told tales—recounted with that curious felicity which has long stamped the illustrious narrator as a consummate raconteur. Then——but the Duke knew when to withdraw; and he withdrew with renewed loyalty.

CHAPTER XIII.

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       A Lover’s Trick

      ONE day, looking in at his jeweller’s, to see some models of a shield and vases which were executing for him in gold, the young Duke met Lady Aphrodite and the Fitz-pompeys. Lady Aphrodite was speaking to the jeweller about her diamonds, which were to be reset for her approaching fête. The Duke took the ladies upstairs to look at the models, and while they were intent upon them and other curiosities, his absence for a moment was unperceived. He ran downstairs and caught Mr. Garnet.

      ‘Mr. Garnet! I think I saw Lady Aphrodite give you her diamonds?’ ‘Yes, your Grace.’

      ‘Are they valuable?’ in a careless tone. ‘Hum! pretty stones; very pretty stones, indeed. Few Baronets’ ladies have a prettier set; worth perhaps a 1000L.; say 1200L. Lady Aphrodite Grafton is not the Duchess of St. James, you know,’ said Mr. Garnet, as if he anticipated furnishing that future lady with a very different set of brilliants.

      ‘Mr. Garnet, you can do me the greatest favour.’ ‘Your Grace has only to command me at all times.’

      ‘Well, then, in a word, for time presses, can you contrive, without particularly altering—that is, without altering the general appearance of these diamonds—can you contrive to change the stones, and substitute the most valuable that you have; consistent, as I must impress upon you, with maintaining their general appearance as at present?’

      ‘The most valuable stones,’ musingly repeated Mr. Garnet; ‘general appearance as at present? Your Grace is aware that we may run up some thousands even in this set?’

      ‘I give you no limit.’

      ‘But the time,’ rejoined Mr. Garnet. ‘They must be ready for her Ladyship’s party. We shall be hard pressed. I am afraid of the time.’

      ‘Cannot the men work all night? Pay them anything.’

      ‘It shall be done, your Grace. Your Grace may command me in anything.’

      ‘This is a secret between us, Garnet. Your partners———’

      ‘Shall know nothing. And as for myself, I am as close as an emerald in a seal-ring.’

CHAPTER XIV.

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       Close of the Season

      HUSSEIN PACHA, ‘the favourite,’ not only of the Marquess of Mash, but of Tattersall’s, unaccountably sickened and died. His noble master, full of chagrin took to his bed, and followed his steed’s example. The death of the Marquess caused a vacancy in the stewardship of the approaching Doncaster. Sir Lucius Grafton was the other steward, and he proposed to the Duke of St. James, as he was a Yorkshireman, to become his colleague. His Grace, who wished to pay a compliment to his county, closed with the proposition. Sir Lucius was a first-rate jockey; his colleague was quite ignorant of the noble science in all its details; but that was of slight importance.