 16 During the Dublin season it is found convenient to give teas. The young ladies have to be introduced to the men they will meet after at the castle. These gatherings take place at five o'clock in the afternoon, and as Mrs Barton started from the shell-born hotel for Lady Georgina Stapleton's, she felt to thinking that a woman is never really vulnerable until she is bringing out her daughters. Till then, the usual shafts directed against her virtue fall harmlessly on either side, but now they glance from the marriage buckler and strike the daughter in full heart. In the ballroom, as in the forest, the female is most easily assailed when guarding her young, and nowhere in the whole animal kingdom is this fact so well exemplified as in Dublin Castle. Lady Georgina lived in Harcourt Street, and it was on her way fither that something like a regret rose up in Mrs Barton that she had, she was forced to confess it, aroused the enmity of women and persistently. Lady Georgina Stapleton was Lord Dungaree's eldest sister. She, too, hated Mrs Barton. But being poor, Milord used to call himself the Milch Cow. She found herself, like the Lady's Cullen, occasionally obliged to smile upon and extend a welcoming hand to the family enemy. And when Mrs Barton came to Dublin for the castle season, a little pressure was put upon Lady Georgina to obtain invitations from the Chamberlain. The ladies exchanged visits, and there the matter ended. As Mrs Barton and her daughter passed through Stephen's Green, and she remembered that she had never taken the trouble to conceal her dislike of the house in Harcourt Street, and some of the hard things she had said when standing on the box seat of a drag at Punches Town Races had traveled back and had found a lasting resting place in Lady Georgina's wrathful memory. This is considered to be the most artistic house in Dublin, said Mrs Barton, as the servant showed them upstairs. How lovely the camellias look, said Olive. And now Alice, mind none of your liberalism in this house, or you will ruin your sister's chances. Lady Georgina wore a wig, or her hair was arranged so as to look like one. Fifty years had rubbed away much of her youthful ugliness, and, in the delicate twilight of her rooms, her aristocratic bearing might be mistaken for good looks. Lady Georgina was a celebrated needle-woman, and she was now begging Lord Kilcani to assist her at a charity bazaar. Few people had yet arrived, and when Harding was announced, Mrs Barton whispered, Here's your friend, Alice, don't miss your chance. Then every moment, beveys of girls came in and were accommodated with seats and, if possible, with young men. Tea cups were sent down to be washed, and the young men were passed from group to group. The young ladies smiled and looked delightful, and spoke of dancing and tennis until, replying to an imperative glance from their chaperones. From time to time they rose to leave, but, obeying a look of supplication from their hostess, the young men remained. Lord Kilcani had been hunted desperately around screens and over every ottoman in the room, and Lady Georgina had proved her good will in proportion to the amount of assistance she had lent to her friends in the chase. Long ago he had been forced away from Olive. Mrs Barton endured, with stoical indifference, the scowls of her hostess, but at length compelled to recognize that none of the accidents attendant on the handling of tea cups or the moving of chairs would bring him back. She rose to take her leave. The little Marquise was on his feet in a moment, and shaking hands with her effusively, he promised to call to see them at the shell-borne. A glance went round, and of Mrs Barton's triumph there could be no doubt. But today's success is often a prelude to tomorrow's defeat, was Lady Georgina's comment, and Mrs Barton and her daughters were discussed as they walked across the green to their hotel. Nor was Lady Georgina altogether a false prophet. For next day Mrs Barton found the Marquise's cards on her table. I'm sorry we missed him, she said. But we haven't a minute, and calling on her daughters to follow, she dashed again into the whorl of a day that would not end for many hours, though it had begun twelve hours ago, a day of haste and anticipation it had been, filled with cries of mamma, telegrams, letters, and injunctions, not to forget this and that, a day whose skirts trailed in sneers and criticisms, a hypocritical and deceitful day, a day of intrigue, a day in which the postbox was the chief factor, a great day with all. But above this day, and above all other days, was the day that took them spellbound to the foot of a narrow staircase, a humble flight seemingly, but leading to a temple of tightly stretched floorcloth, tall wardrobes, and groups and lines of lay figures in eternally ladylike attitudes. Oh, how do you do Mrs Barton? We have been expecting you for the last two or three days. I will run upstairs and tell Mrs. Simon that you are here. She will be so glad to see you. This is Miss Cooper, explained Mrs. Barton. Everyone knows her. She has been with Mrs. Simon many years. And as for dear Mrs. Simon, there is no one like her. She knows the truth about everybody. Here she comes. And Mrs. Barton rushed forward and embraced a thin woman with long features. And how do you do, dear Mrs. Barton? And how well you are looking. And the young ladies? I seem as olive has improved since she was in Dublin. In an audible whisper, everyone is talking about her. There is no doubt, but that she'll be the bell of the season. In a still audible, but lower tone of voice. But tell me, is it true that? Now, now, now! Said Mrs. Barton, drowning her words in cascades of silvery laughter. I know nothing of what you're saying. No, no. I assure you, I will not. Then, as soon as the ladies had recovered their composure, a few questions were asked about her excellency, the prospects of the castle season, and the fashions of the year. And now tell me, said Mrs. Barton, what pretty things have you that would make of nicely for trains? Trains, Mrs. Barton? We have some sweet things that would make up beautifully for trains. Miss Cooper, will you kindly fetch over that case of silks that we had over yesterday from Paris? The young ladies must be, of course, in white. For Miss Olive, I should like, I think, snowdrops. For you, Mrs. Barton, I am uncertain which of two designs I shall recommend. Now, this is a perfectly regal material. With words of compliment and solicitation, the black dressed assistant displayed the armories of Venus, armories filled with the deep blue of midnight, with the faint tints of dawn, with strange flowers and birds, with mobs and moons and stars. Lengths of white silk, clear as the notes of violins playing in a minor key, white poplin falling into folds, statuesque as the base of a fugue by Bach. Yards of ruby velvet, rich as an air from Verdi, played on the piano. Tender green velvet, pastoral as hook boys heard beneath trees in a fair Arcadian veil. Blue turquoise file, fanciful as the tinkling of a guitar, twanged by a wortow shepherd. Gold brocade, sumptuous as organ tones, swelling through the jeweled twilight of a nave. Scarves and trains of midnight blue, profound as the harmonic snoring of a bassoon. Golden daffodils, violent as the sound of a cornet, bouquets of pink roses and daisies, charmful and pure as the notes of a fruit. White file, soft draperies of tulle, garlands of white lilac, sprays of white leather, delicate and resonant as the treble voices of children singing carols in dewy English woods, berthas, flounces, plumes, stomachers, lapettes, veils, frivolous as the strains of a German waltz played on Liddell's band. An hour passed, but the difficulty of deciding if Olive's dress should be composed of silk or Irish poplin was very great. For, determined that all should be humiliated, Mrs. Barton laid her plans amid designs for night and morning, birds fluttering through leafy trees, birds drowsing on bending boughs, and butterflies folding their wings. At a critical moment, however, an assistant announced that Mrs. Scully was waiting. The ladies started. Desperate effort was made. Rosie clouds and veils of silver tissue were spoken of, but nothing could be settled. And on the staircase, the ladies had to squeeze into a corner to allow Violet and Mrs. Scully to pass. How do you do, Olive? How do you do, Alice? And you, Mrs. Barton, how do you do? And what are you going to wear? Have you decided on your dress? Oh, that is a secret that could be told to no one. Oh, not for worlds, said Mrs. Barton. I'm sure it will be very beautiful, replied Mrs. Scully, with just a reminiscence of the politeness of the Galway grocery business in her voice. I hear you have taken a house in Fitzwilliam Square for the season, said Mrs. Barton. Yes, we are very comfortable. You must come and see us. You are at the shell-born, I believe. Come to tea with us, cried Violet. We are always at home about five. We shall be delighted, returned Mrs. Barton. Mrs. Scully's acquaintance with Mrs. Simon was of the slightest, but knowing that claims to fashion in Dublin are judged by the intimacy you affect with a dress-banker, she shook her warmly by the hand and addressed her as Dear Mrs. Simon. To the Christian name of Helen, none less than a contest dared to aspire. And how well you are looking, dear Mrs. Simon, and when are you going to take your daughters to the castle? Oh, not for some time yet. My eldest is only sixteen. Mrs. Simon's had three daughters to break out, and she hoped when her feet were set on the redoubtable ways of Cork Hill, her fashionable customers would extend to her a cordial, helping hand. Mrs. Simon's was one of the myriad little schemes with which Dublin is honeycombed, and although she received Mrs. Scully's familiarities somewhat coldly, she kept her eyes fixed upon Violet. The insidious thinness of the girl's figure and her gay, winsome look interested her. And as if speaking to herself, she said, you'll want something very sweet, something quite pure and lovely for Mrs. Scully. Mother and daughter were instantly all the tension, and Mrs. Simon continued. Let me see. I have some sorat silk that would make up sweetly. Miss Cooper, will you have the kindness to fetch those rolls of sorat silk we received yesterday from Paris? Then, beautiful as a flower harvesting, the hues and harmonies of earth, ocean, and sky fell before the ravished eyes. The white sorat silk, chaste, beautiful, delicious as the presentiment of shared happiness, which fills a young girl's mind when her fancy awakens in the soft spring sunlight. The white file with tool and garlands of white lilac, delicate and only as sensuous as the first meetings of sweethearts. When the may is white in the air, and the lilac is in bloom on the lawn, trains of blue sapphire brochet looped with blue ostrich feathers, seductive and artificial as a boudoir, plunged in a dream of S bouquet. Dove colored velvet trains adorn the tulips and tied with bows of brown and pink. Temperate as the love that endures when the fiery day of passion has gone down. Bodices and trains of daffodil silk, embroidered with shaded maple leaves, impure as lamplit and patchouli scented couches. Trains of white Boulature, festooned with tulle, trails of snowdrops, icy as lips that have been bought, and cold as a life that lives in a name. The beautiful silks hissed as they came through the hands of the assistants, cat-like the velvet footfalls of the velvet fell. It was a witch's Sabbath, and out of this terrible cauldron each was to draw her share of the world's gifts. Smiling and genial, Mrs. Simon stirred the ingredients with a yard measure. The girls came trembling, doubting, hesitating, and the anxious mothers saw what remained of their jeopardized fortunes, sliding in a thin golden string into the flaming furnace that the demon of Corkill blew with unintermittent breath. Secrets. What secrets were held on the subject of the presentation dresses? The obscure hill was bound with a white frill of anticipation. Olive's fame had gone forth. She was admitted to be the new Venus, and Lord Kilcarnie was spoken of as likely to yield to her the coveted coronet. Would he marry her without so much as looking at another girl? Was the question on every lip? And in the jealousy thus created, the appraisers of Violet's beauty grew bolder. Her thinness was condoned, and her refinement insisted upon. Nor were Bay Gould, and her chances overlooked by the gossips of Marion Square. Her flirtation with Fred Scully was already a topic of conversation. Alice knew she was spoken of pittingly, but she hungered little after the praise of the Dubliners, and preferred to stay at home and talk to Harding in the ladies' drawing-room, rather than follow her mother and sister in their wild hunt after Lord Kilcarnie. Through the afternoon teas of Marion Square and Stephen's Green, the chase went merrily. End of Chapter 16. Recording by Lysanne LaVoy. Chapter 17 of Muzzlin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lysanne LaVoy of Swansea, Illinois. Muzzlin by George Moore. Chapter 17. On the night of the drawing-room, February 20, 1882, the rain rushed along the streets. Wind, too, had risen, and threatening to tear every window from its sash. It careered in great gusts. Sky, there was none, nor sight of anything save when the lightning revealed the outline of the housetops. The rattling and the crashing of the thunder was fearsome, and often behind their closely drawn curtains, the girls trembled, and covering their faces with their hands, forgot the article of clothing they were in search of. In their rooms, all was warm and snug, and gay with firelight and silk. The chaperons had whispered that warm baths were advisable, and along the passages, the ladies' maids passed hurriedly, carrying cans of hot water, sponges, and drying sheets. Alice and Olive slept in two rooms on the third floor on either side of their mother. May and Mrs. Gould were on the fourth, and next to May was Fred Scully, who, under the pretext of the impossibility of his agreeing with his mother concerning the use of a latch key, had lately moved into the hotel. May was deeply concerned in Fred's grievance, and discussing it, or the new shell-borne scandal, the loves of the large lady and the little man at the other end of the corridor, they lingered about each other's bedroom doors. Alice could now hear them talking as they descended the staircase together, then a burst of smothered laughter, and May came in to see her. Oh, how nice you look! If you don't mash, Mr. Harding, tonight, he'll be a tough one indeed. Did I tell you I was talking to him yesterday in the ladies' drawing-room? He is very enticing, but I can't quite make him out. I think he despises us all, all but you. About you, he said all kinds of nice things, that you were so clever, and nice, and amusing. And tell me, dear, said May, in her warm, affectionate way. Do you really like him? You know what I mean. May's eyes and voice were so full of significance that to pretend to misunderstand was impossible. I like Mr. Harding well enough. It is very pleasant to have him to talk to. I am sure I don't want to run down my own sex. There are plenty only too anxious to do that. But I am afraid that there is not a girl in Dublin who thinks of anything except how she is to get married. I don't know about that, said May, a little offended. I suppose if you think of a man at all, you think of how he likes you. The defiant tone in which these words were spoken was surprising. And for a moment Alice stood staring blankly at this superb, cream fleshed girl, superb in her dress of cream vile, her sensuous beauty poetized by the long veils which hung like gossamer webs from the coils of her copper gleaming hair. I am afraid, May, she said, that you think a great deal too much of such things. I don't say anything against Mr. Scully, but I think it right to tell you that he is considered a very dangerous young man, and I am sure it does a girl no good to be seen with him. It was he who, now I'll not hear you abuse Fred, cried May. We are great friends. I'd like you better than any other girl, and if you value our friendship, you'll not speak to me again like this. I wouldn't put up with it. No, not from my own mother. The girl moved toward the door hastily, but Alice laid her hand on her arm, saying, You must be angry, May. Perhaps you're right. I shouldn't meddle in things that don't concern me. But then we have been so long friends that I couldn't help. I know, I know, the girl answered, overcome as it were by an atmosphere. You were speaking only for my good, but if your friends were the person, you can't stand by and hear them abused. I know people speak badly of Fred, but then people are so jealous, and they are all jealous of Fred. The girls examined each other's dresses, and at the end of a long silence, May said, What an extraordinary thing this drawing room is when one comes to think of it. Just fancy going to all this expense to be kissed by the Lord Lieutenant, a man one never saw before. Will you feel ashamed when he kisses you? Well, I don't know that I have thought much about it, said Alice laughing. I suppose it doesn't matter. It is only a ceremony, not a real kiss. At this moment Mrs Barton's voice was heard calling. Now Alice, Alice, where are you? We are waiting for you. Make haste for goodness sake. We are very late as it is. The trail of a sachet scented petticoat could be detected on this length of Brussels carpet. The acrid vulgarity of Ode to Cologne hugged like a curtain before an open door. A vision of white silk gleaned for a moment as it fled from room to room. Men in a strange garb, black velvet and steel buttons hurried away, tripping over their swords, furtively ashamed of their stocking calves. On the first landing, about the winter garden, a group of German waiters, housemaids, billiards players with cigars in their teeth and cues in their hands had collected. Underneath, in the hall, the barmaids and old ladies wrapped up in rugs and shawls to save them from the drafts were criticizing the dresses. Olive's name was on every lip and to see her all were breathless with expectation. Her matrimonial prospects were discussed and Lord Kilkarny was openly spoken of. Ah, here she is! There she is! was whispered. The head porter, wild with excitement, shouted for Mrs Barton's carriage. Three under-porters distended huge umbrellas. The door was opened, an immense wind tore through the hall, sending the old ladies flying back to their sitting-room, and the Bartons, holding their hair and their trains, rushed across the wet pavement and took refuge in the Brogum. Did one ever see such weather? said Mrs Barton. I hope your hair isn't ruffled, Olive. No, Mama, I think it is all right. Reassured, Mrs Barton continued. I don't think there ever was a country so hateful as Ireland. What, with rain and land-league? I wonder why we live here. Did you notice the time, Alice, when we left the hotel? Yes, Mama, it was twenty-five minutes to ten. Oh, we are very late. We shan't be there before ten. The thing to do was to get there about half past nine. The drawing-room doesn't begin before eleven, but if you can get into the first lot, you can stand at the entrance of Patrick's Hall. I see, Alice, your friend Harding is going to the drawing- room. Now, if you do what I tell you, you won't miss him, for it does look so bad to see a girl alone, just as if she was unable to get a man. While Mrs Barton continued to advise her girls, the carriage rolled rapidly along Stephen's Green. It had now turned into Grafton Street, and on the steep rain-flooded asphalt they narrowly escaped an accident. The coachman, however, steadied his horses, and soon the long colonnades of the Bank of Ireland were seen on the left. From this point they were no longer alone, and except when a crash of thunder drowned every other sound, the rattling of wheels was heard behind and in front of them. Carriages came from every side. The night was alive with flashing lamps, a glimpse of white fur or silk, the red breast of a uniform, the gold of an epaulet were seen, and thinking of the block that would take place on the keys, the coachman whipped up their horses, but soon the ordinary voices of the mantled and mounted policemen were heard, and the carriages came to a full stop. We are very late, hundreds will pass before us, said Mrs Barton despairingly, as she watched the lines of silk-laden carriages that seemed to be passing them by. But it was difficult to make sure of anything, and fearful of soiling their gloves, they refrained from touching the breath-missed windows. Despite the weather the streets were lined with vagrants, patriots, waifs, idlers of all sorts and kinds. Plenty of girls of 16 and 18 came out to see the finery. Poor little things and battered bonnets and draggled skirts, who would dream upon ten shillings a week, a drunken mother striving to hush a child that cries beneath a dripping shawl, a harlot embittered by feelings of commercial resentment, troops of laborers, hangdog faces, thin coats, torn shirts, Irish Americans, sinister-faced and broad brimmed. Never were poverty and wealth brought into planar proximity. In the broad glare of the carriage lights, the shape of every feature, even the color of the eyes, every glance, every detail of dress, every stain of misery were revealed to the silken exquisite who, a little frightened, strove to hide themselves within the scented shadows of their brogams. And in like manner the bloom on every aristocratic cheek, the glitter of every diamond, the richness of every plume, were visible to the wondering eyes of those who stood without in the wet and the cold. I wish they wouldn't stare so, said Mrs. Barton. One would think there were a lot of hungry children looking into a sweet-meat shop. The police ought really to prevent it. And how wicked those men in the big hats look, said Olive. I'm sure they would rob us if they only dared. At last the order came that the carriages were to move on, and they rolled on, now blocked under the black rain-dripping archway of the castle yard, now delayed as they laboriously made the tour of the quadrangle. Olive doubted if her turn would ever come, but by slow degrees, each carriage discharged its cargo of silk, and at last Mrs. Barton and her daughters found themselves in the vestibule, taking numbers for their wraps at the cloak rooms placed on either side of the stairway. The slender figures ascending to tiny naked shoulders presented a pecan contrast with the huge black Assyrian bull-like policemen who guarded the passage and reduced by contrast to the almost doll-like proportions the white creatures who went up the great stairway. Overhead an artificial plant some 20 feet wide spread a decorative greenness. The walls were lined with rifles and at regular intervals in lieu of pictures were set stars made out of swords. There were also three suits of plate armor and the greening of the helmets of old time contrasted with the bare skin shrouded faces of the red guardsmen and through all this military display the white wear tripped past powdered and purple coated footmen, splendid in the splendor of pink calves and salmon colored breeches. As the white mass of silk pushed along the white painted corridor the sense of ceremony that had till then oppressed it evaporated in the fumes of the blazing gas and something like a battle began in the blue drawing room. Heat and fatigue soon put an end to all the coquettin between the sexes. The beautiful silks were hidden by the crowd only the shoulders remained and to appease their terrible ennui the men gazed down the backs of the women's dresses. Shoulders were there of all tints and shapes indeed it was like a vast rosary alive with white pink and cream colored flowers of Maréchal Niels souvenir de Manmaison, Manmousel Eugène Verdier, Amine Vibère Scandence. Sweetly turned adolescent shoulders blushed white smooth and even as the petals of a marquis mortemald the strong commonly turned shoulders abundant and free as the fresh rosy pink of the Anna Alenoff the drooping white shoulders full of falling contours as a pale Madame Le Charme the caloric shoulders deadly white of the almost greenish shade that is found in a princess clementine the pert the dainty little shoulders filled with warm pink shadows pretty and compact as contests the silk de Chabrillon the large heavy shoulders full of vulgar matter tints course strawberry color enormous as a pole neuron clustering white shoulders grouped like the blossoms of an Amy Vibère Scandence and just in front of me under my eyes the flowery the voluptuous the statuesque shoulders of a tall blonde woman of 30 whose flesh is full of the exquisite peach like tones of a Manmousel Eugène Verdier blooming in all its pride of summer loveliness to make way for this enormous crowd the Louis 15 sofas and armchairs have been pushed against the walls and an hour past wearily in all its natural impudence in this beautiful drawing room the brain aching with dusty odor of podre de Ries and the many acidities of evaporating perfume the sugary sweetness of the blondes the salt flavors of the brunettes and this Allegro movement of odors was interrupted suddenly by the garlicky andante deep as the pedal notes of an organ that the perspiring armpits of a fat chaperon exhaled slowly at last there was a move forwards and a sigh of relief a grunt of satisfaction broke from the oppressed creatures but a line of guardsmen was pressing from behind and the women were thrown hither and thither into the arms and onto the backs of soldiers police officers county inspectors and castle underlings now a lady turns pale and whispers to her husband that she is going to faint now a young girl's petticoats have become entangled in the moving mass of legs she cries aloud for help her brother expostulates with those around he is scarcely heated and the struggle grows still more violent when it becomes evident that the guardsmen are about to bring down the bar and begging a florid-faced attorney to unloose his sword which had become entangled in her dress mrs barton called on her daughter and slipping under the raised arms they found themselves suddenly in a square somber room full of a rich brown twilight in one corner there was a bureau where an attendant served out blank cards in another the white plumes nodded against the red glare that came from the throne room quence lidel's band was heard playing waltz tunes and the stentorian tones of the chamberlain's voice called the lady's names have you got your cards said mrs barton i have got mine said olive and i have got mine said alice well you know what to do you give your card to the aide de camp he passes it on and spreads out your train and you walk right up to his excellency he kisses you on both cheeks you curtsy and at the far door two aids to come pick up your train and place it on your arm the girls continue to advance experiencing the wild the nerve atrophy the systolic emotion of communicants who when the bell rings approach the altar rails to receive god within their mouths the massive the low hanging the opulently twisted gold candelabra the smooth luster of the marble columns are evocative of the persuasive grandeur of a cathedral and deep in the darkness of the pen a vast congregation of pieresses and judges watch the ceremony in devout collectiveness how symmetrical is the place a red a well-trimmed bouquet of guardsmen has been set in the middle of the turkey carpet around the throne a semi circle of red coats has been drawn and above it flow the veils the tulle the skirts of the ladies of honor they seem like white clouds dreaming on a bank of scarlet poppies and the long sad legs clad in maroon color breeches is the lord lieutenant the teeth and the diamonds on his right is her excellency and now a lingering survival of the terrible draw the senior diminished and attenuated but still circulating through our modern years the ceremony a pale ghost of its former self is performed and having received a kiss on either cheek the debutants are free to seek their bridal beds in patrick's hall miss olive botchan presented by mrs botchan shouted the chamberlain olive abandoned her trained to the aids to comp she saw their bent backs felt their nimble fingers exhibiting the stress whereupon mrs barton and mrs simon had for days been expending all the poetry of their natures what white wonder what manifold marvel of art dress of snow satin skirt quite plain in front bodice and train of white poplin the latter brought with patterns representing night and morning a morning made of silver leaves with silver birds fluttering through leafy trees butterflies sporting among them and overall a sunrise worked in gold and silver thread then on the left side the same sun sank amid rosy clouds and their butterflies slept with folded wing and their birds roosted on bending bows veils of silver tissue softened the edges of the train silver stars gleamed in the corn colored hair the long hands gloved with white undressed kid carried a silver fan she was adorably beautiful and adorably pale and she floated through the red glare along the scarlet line to the weary looking man in maroon breeches like some wonderful white bird of downy plumage he kissed her on both cheeks and she passed away to the farther door where her train was caught up and handed to her by two aids to come he had seemed to salute her with deference and warmth his kiss was more than ceremonial and eager looks passed between the ladies of honor standing on the astride the great bouquet of red coats placed in the middle of the floor animated by one desire turned its 16 heads to gaze after the wonderful vision of blind beauty that had come that had gone mrs. Barton experienced an instant thrill of triumph and advanced into the throne in the composition of her dress she had given range to her somewhat florid taste the front was brocade laid upon a ground of gray pink shot with orange and the effect was such as is seeing when the sun hangs behind a lowering gray cloud tinged with pink on this were wonderful soft colored flowers yellow melting into pink green fading into matter like tints the bodice and the train were of gold brown velvet that matched the gold brown of the hair mrs. Barton was transformed from the usual romney portrait to one by sir peter layley and when she made her curtsy her excellencies face contracted and the ladies of honor whispered the harm she does her daughters i wonder miss violet scully presented by mrs. scully shouted the chamberman now there was an admixture of curiosity in the admiration accorded to violet hers was not the plain appealing of olive's Greek statue like beauty it was rather the hectic erythism of painters and sculptors in a period preceding the apogee of an art she was a statuette in biscuit after a design by andrea montaña but the traces of this exquisite adivism were now almost concealed in the supreme modernity of her attire from the tiny waist trailed yards of white file trimmed with tulle ruchings frekt as a meadow with faintly tinted daisies the hips were in garlanded with daisies and the flowers melted and bloomed amid snows of file and tulle the lord lieutenant leaned forward to kiss her but at that moment of his kiss the thunder crashed so loudly that he withdrew from her and so abruptly that her excellency looked surprised the incident passed however almost unperceived so loud was the thunder everybody was thinking of dynamite and it was some time before even the voluptuous strains of ladelle's band could calm their inquietude nevertheless the chamberlain continued to shout lady sarah cullen lady jane cullen mrs. scully presented by lady sarah cullen then came a batch of people who no one knew and in the front of these the aids to comp allowed alice to pass on to his excellency she was prettily dressed dragging after her a train of white file trimmed with sprays of white heather and tulle the petticoat being beautifully arranged with folded draperies of crete disheen a number of ladies had collected in the farther enter room and in lines they stood watching the effluent tide of satin and silk discharging its volume into the spaces of patrick's hall end of chapter 17 recording by lasanne lavoy chapter 18 of muslin this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org recording by lasanne lavoy of swansi illinois muslin by george more chapter 18 i wish alice would make haste and not keep us waiting i suppose she has got behind a crowd oh here are the scullies let's hide they don't know a creature and will hang on us olive and mrs barton tried to slip out of sight but they were too late and a moment after looking immense in a train and bodice of lions velvet mrs scully came up and accosted them how do you do mrs barton she said with a desperate effort to make herself agreeable i must congratulate you everyone is admiring your dress i assure you your train looked perfectly regal i'm glad you like it replied mrs barton but what do you think of olive do you like her dress oh olive has no need of my praises if i were not afraid of making her too vain i would tell her that all dublin is talking of her indeed i heard a gentleman say a gentleman who i believe writes for the papers that she will be in the world or truth next week as the bell of the season none of the other young ladies will have a chance with her oh i don't know about that exclaim mrs barton laughing merrily haven't you got your violet whom by the way you have transformed into a beautiful daisy it will be perhaps not the rose nor the olive that will carry off the prize but the daisy violet glanced sharply at mrs barton and there was hate in the glance for although her mother did not she understood well what was meant by the illusion to the daisy the humblest of the earth's flowers the appearance however of lord kill carney brought the conversation to a close and not knowing how to address him olive lacked a beautifully from behind her silver fan they entered patrick's hall where lord dungary lord ross hill and others were waiting to receive mrs barton who sought for a prominent seat and dealing out pearly laughs and winsome compliments to her court she watched olive who according to orders had taken lord kill carney to sit on the highest of the series of benches that lined one side of the room which she did and for a moment mrs barton felt as if she held dublin under her satin shoe alice was her only trouble what would she do with this gawk of a girl but soon even this difficulty was solved for harding came up and asked her if he might take her to get an ice how absurd we look dressed up in this way said harding look at that attorney in the court sword it would be just as logical to stick a quill pen behind the ear of a fat pig well the sword i confess i don't see much meaning in that but the rest of the dress is well enough i don't see why one style of dress should be more absurd than another unless it is because it isn't the fashion yes but that is just the reason just fancy dressing oneself up in the costume of a bygone time and is everything that isn't the fashion ridiculous ah there i fancy you have the best of the argument waiter a strawberry ice but did you say you would have strawberry i don't think i did for i prefer lemon the center of the ceiling was filled with an oval picture representing st patrick receiving pagans into the true faith the walls were white painted the panels were gold listed there were pillars at both ends of the room and in a top gallery behind a curtain of evergreen plants ladelle's orchestra continued to pour an uninterrupted flood of walls upon the sea of satin silk poplin and velvet that surged around the buffet angrily demanding cream ices champagne and claret cup every moment the crowd grew denser and the red coats of the guards and the black courted jackets of the rifles stained like spots of ink and blood the pallor of the background a few young men looked elegant and shapely in the velvet and stockings of court dress one of these was fred scully he was with may who the moment she caught sight of alice made frantic efforts to reach her my dear did anyone ever look so nice you are as sweet well a little sweeter than you generally are how do you do mr. harding and tell me alice what do you think of my dress may was in cream file with ruchings of tool a beautiful piece of white lilac nestled upon her right breasts you are very nice may and i think the white sits off your hair to advantage well good bye dear fred and i are going into the next room one is so pushed about here but there are nice large velvet sofas there where one can sit and talk i advise you to come in the reposing shadows of rich velvet and somber hangings women leaned over the sofas talking to men in uniform while two strange looking creatures in long garments walked up and down the room downs from trinity who argued with mr. adair earnestly he is one of the lights of your county is he not said harding indicating mr. adair oh yes replied alice he took honors and a gold medal at trinity college i know he did and a capacity for passing competitive examinations is the best proof of a man's incapacity for everything else do you know him yes a little he wears his university laurels at 40 builds parish schools and frightens his neighbors with the liberality of his opinions and the rectitude of his life but have you seen his pamphlets on the amalgamation of the poor houses said alice astonished at the slight consideration afforded to the rural genius i have heard of them it appears he is going in for politics but his politics will be on a par with his sawmill and his farmyard in concrete mr. adair is a well-known person every county in england ireland and scotland possesses and is proud of its mr. adair alice wondered for some moments in silence and when suddenly her thoughts detached themselves she said we didn't see you in the ladies drawing room i was very busy all the morning i had two articles to write for one of my papers and some books to review how nice it must be to have a duty to perform every day to have always an occupation to which you can turn with pleasure i don't know that i look upon my ink bottle as an eternal haven of bliss still i would sooner contribute articles to daily and weekly papers than sit in the kildare street club drinking glasses of sherry having nothing to do must be a terrible occupation and one difficult to fulfill with dignity and honor but he added as if a sudden thought had struck him you must have a great deal of time in your hands why don't you write a novel everybody can't write novels oh yes they can is that the reason why you advise me to write one not exactly did you ever try to write a story no not since i was at school i used to write stories there and read them to the girls and and what oh nothing it seems so absurd of me to talk to you about such things you will only laugh at me just as you did at mr. adair no i assure you i am very loyal to my friends friends i should have thought that friendship was a question of sympathy and not one of time but i will withdraw the word oh no i didn't mean that i am sure i am very glad very well then we will be friends and now tell me what you were going to say i have forgotten what was i saying you were telling me about something you had written at school oh yes i remember i did a little play for the girls to act just before we left what was it about what was it called it was not original it was an adaptation of tenacin's ballad of king cofetua you know miss ghoul she played the king and miss gully she played the beggar maid but of course the whole thing was very childish at this moment a figure in knee breeches and flesh colored stockings was seen waving a wand at the far end of the room he was the usher clearing the way for the vice regal procession the first to appear were the adcs they were followed by the medical department by the private secretary the military private secretary the assistant undersecretaries by the gentleman in waiting the master of the horse the dean of the chapel royal the chamberlain the gentleman usher the comptroller the state steward walking with a wand like a doge in an opera booth then came another secretary and another band of the underlings who flock about this mock court and then came a heavy built red bearded man who carried as one might carry a baby a huge guilt sword in his fat hands he was followed by their excellencies the long maroon colored breeches preserved their usual disconsolateness the teeth and diamonds retain their splendor and the train many yards of azure blue richest duchess satin embroidered with large bouquets of silver lily of the valley and trimmed with plumes of azure blue ostrich feathers and bunches of silver coral was upheld by two tiny children who tottered beneath its enormous weight then another batch of a dc's in waiting the ladies of the vise regal family their excellencies guests and the ladies in attendance placed according to their personal precedents brought up the rear of the procession doesn't real actual life sometimes appear to you miss barton more distorted and unreal than a dream i know it does to me the spectacle we have just witnessed was a part of the ages that believed in the godhead of christ and the divine right of kings but it seems to be strange that such barbarity should be permitted to loiter but what has christianity to do with the procession that has just passed were it not for faith do you think a mock court would be allowed to proponade in that ludicrous fashion i'm not sure it is faith that enables them to reverence the sword of the state is it not rather that love of ceremonial inherit in us all more or less perhaps you are right the conversation drifted back to literature they talked for 10 minutes and then alice suggested that it was time she should return to mrs barton patrick's hall was still crowded and champagne corks exploded through the babbling of voices the squadron of distressed damsels had not deserted their favorite corner and they waited about the pillars like cabs on a stand at this hour a middle-aged married doctor would be welcomed all were desirous of being seen if only for a moment on the arm of a man mrs barton's triumph was cesarean more than half a dozen old lords and one young man listened to her bewitching laugh and were fed on the brown flashing gold of her eyes malored and ross hill had been pushed aside and apart each sought to convince the other that he was going to leave town by the evening mail well in view of everyone olive had spent an hour with lord kill carney he had just brought her back to mrs barton at a little distance the poor scully stood waiting they knew no one even the bartons had given them a very cold shoulder mrs ghoul in an old black velvet dress wondered why all the nice girls did not get married and from time to time she plaintively questioned the passersby if they had seen may violets sharp face had grown sharper she knew she could do something if only she got a chance but would she get a chance the ladies cullen their plank like shoulders bound in gray frise velvet and steel were talking to her suddenly lady sarah bowed to lord kill carney and the bow said come hither leaving olive he approached a moment after he was introduced to violet her thin face lit up as if from a light within a gray cloud dimmed at the light of mrs barton's golden eyes and when she saw him in the vestibule helping the scullies on with their wraps she shuddered as if struck with a blast of icy wind end of chapter 18 recording by lasagna boy chapter 19 of muslin this is a liver box recording all liver box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liver box dot org recording by lasagna boy of swansy illinois muslin by george moore chapter 19 dongery castle gort county gallway my dearest alice i was so delighted to hear from you it was very good of you to write to me i was deeply interested in your description of the doublin festivities and must try and tell you all the news everybody here is talking of olive and lord kill carney it is said that he proposed to her at the drawing room is this true i hope so for she seems to have set her heart on the match but she is a great deal too nice for him they say that when he is in london he does nothing but go about from bar room to bar room drinking brandy's and sodas it is also said that he used to spend much of his time with actresses i hope these stories are false but i cannot help thinking well we have often talked over these things and you know what my opinions of men are i hope i am not doing wrong in speaking like this but a piece of news has reached me that forces my thoughts back into the old ways ways that i know you have often reproved me for letting my mind wander in in a word darling alice i hear that you are very much taken up with a mr hearting a writer or painter or something of that sort now will you promise to write and tell me if this be true i would sooner know the worst at once here that you love him madly passionately as i believe some women love men but you who are so nice so good so beautiful you could not love a man thus i cannot think you could i will not think you do i have been crying all the morning crying bitterly horrible thoughts have forced themselves on my mind i have seen but it was not true though it seems so clear visions are not always true this man kissing you oh alice let me warn you let me beg of you to think well before you abandon yourself to a man's power to a man's love but you alice who are so noble so pure so lofty minded you would not soil yourself by giving way to such a sentiment right you will write and tell me that what i saw in vision was a lie an abominable lie nay you do not love mr hearting you will not marry him surely you will not oh to be left here alone never to see you again i cannot bear it i should die you will not leave me to die alice dear you will not write and tell me you will not and what grieves me doubly is that it must seem to you dear that i am only thinking of myself i am not i think of you i wish to save you from what must be a life of misery and we're still of degradation for every man is a degradation when he approaches a woman i know you couldn't bear up against this you are too refined too pure i can sympathize with you i know poor little crippled though i be the horrors of married life i know what men are you smile your own kind sweet smile i see it as i write but you are wrong i know nothing of men in particular but i know what the sex is i know nothing of individuals but i know what life is the very fact of being forced to live apart has helped me to realize how horrible life is and how the passions of men make it vile and abominable all their tender little words in attentions are but lust in disguise i hate them i could whip i could beat i would torture them and when i had done my worst i should not have done enough to punish them for the wrongs they have done to my sex i know alastair i am writing violently that i am letting my temper get the better of me and this is very wrong you have often told me it is very wrong but i cannot help it my darling when i think of the danger you are in i cannot tell you how but i know you are in danger something some instinct has put me in communication with you there are moments when i see you yes see you sitting by that man i see you now the scene is a long blue drawing room all aglow with gold mirrors and wax candles he is sitting by you i see you smiling upon him my blood boils alice i fear i am going mad my head drops on the table and i strive to shut out the odious sight but i cannot i cannot i cannot i am calmer now you will forgive me alastair i know i am wrong to write to you in this way but there are moments when i realize things with such horrible vividness that i am as it were imagined with pain sometimes i awake in the night and then i see life in all its hideous nakedness revealed as it were by a sudden flash of lightning oh it is terrible to think we are thus goodbye dear i know you will forgive me and i hope you will write it once and will not leave me in suspense that is the worst torture with love to our friends olive may and violet believe me darling alice yours affectionately cecilia cullen she read steadily word by word and then let the letter fall her vision was not precise but there were flashes of sun in it and her thoughts loomed and floated away she thought of herself of hearting of their first meeting the first time she had seen him he was sitting in the same place and in the same chair as she was sitting in now she remembered the first words that had been spoken the scene was as clear to her as if it were etched upon her brain and as she used she thought of the importance of that event hearting was to her what a mounted is to the level plane from him she now looked forward and back so people say that i am in love with him well supposing i were i do not know that i should feel ashamed of myself the reflection was an agreeable one and in it her thoughts floated away like red sailed barges into the white mists that veil with the dreamy enchantment the whorves and the walls of an ancient town what did she know of him nothing he was to her as much but no more than the author of a book in which she was deeply interested with this difference she could hear him reply to her questions but his answers were only like other books and revealed nothing of his personality she would have liked to have known the individual man surrounded with his individual hopes and sufferings but of these she knew nothing they had talked of all things but it seemed to her that of the real man she had never had a glimpse never did he unbend never did he lift the mask he wore he was interesting but very unhuman and he paraded his ideas and his snares as the late figures did the male armor on the castle stairway she did not know if he were a good or a bad man she fancied he was not very good and then she grew angry with herself for suspecting him but honest or dishonest she was sure he could love no one and she strove to recall his face she could remember nothing but the cold merciless eyes eyes that were like the palest blue porcelain but how ungrateful i am thought the girl and she checked the bitter flow of approaches that rose in her mind two old ladies sat on the sofa under the window their white hair and white caps coming out very white upon the gray irish day and around the ottoman the young ladies gladus and zoe brendan one of the miss duffies and the girl in red yawned over circulating novels longing that a man might come in not with hope that he would interest them but because they were accustomed to think of all time as wasted that was not spent in talking to a man nor were they awakened from their languid hopes until olive came rushing into the room with a large envelope in her hand oh i see she said you have got a letter from cecilia what did she say i got one this morning from barns and bending her head olive whispered in alice's ear she says that everyone is talking in gallway of when i shall be a martianess is that the letter asked alice innocently no you silly this is a castle invitation the brennans and the girl in red looked up ah is it for tonight or tomorrow said the latter for tomorrow now i wonder if there will be one for me is it to dinner or to the dance to dinner ah really yes very lucky her eyes fell and her look was expressive of her deep disappointment a dance yes but a dinner and a dance then she continued ah the castle treats us all very badly i am glad sometimes when i hear the land league abusing it we come up here and spend all our money on dresses and we get nothing for it except two state balls and it is no compliment to ask us to them they are obliged to but what do you think of my little coat it is this that keeps me warm and miss o'reilly held out her seal skin for the company to feel the texture for the last three weeks she had not failed on all occasions to call attention to this garment senior parasina had said it was lovely here she sighed senior parasina had left the hotel and i have a new dress coming home it is all red a cardinal silk you know nothing but red suits me is the hall porter distributing the invitations as glad as brennan did he give you yours no arse was of course directed to mama i found it in her room then perhaps zoe did not finish the sentence and both sisters rolled up their worsted work preparatory to going upstairs in dublin during six weeks of the year the arrival of these large official envelopes is watched with eagerness these envelopes are the balm of gilead and the land league and the hopelessness of match making are merged and lost for a moment in an exquisite thrill of triumph or despair an invitation to the castle means much the gray-headed official who takes you down to dinner may bore you and at the dance you may find yourself with a partner but the delight of asking your friends if you may expect to meet them on such a night of telling them afterwards of your successes are the joys of dublin and armed with their invitation the bartender scored heavily over the scullies and the ghouls who were only asked to the dance and what will the dinner be like mama asked olive it will be very grand lord calper does things in very good style indeed and our names will be given in the papers but i don't think it will amuse you dear all the officials have to be asked judges police officers etc you will probably go down with some old fellow of 60 but that can't be helped at the dance after we'll see the marquis i told you mama didn't i that barns wrote that everybody in gallway said he was in love with me and had proposed you did dear and it does no harm for the report to have got about for if a thing gets very much spoken of it forces a man to come to the point you will wear your red tulle i don't know that you look better in anything else whatever mrs barton's faults may have been she did her duty as she conceived it by her daughter and during the long dinner through the leaves of the flowering plants she watched her olive anxiously a hundred and twenty people were present mothers and eligible daughters judges lords police officers urls poor law inspectors countesses and castle officials around the great white painted gold listed walls the tables in the form of a horseshoe was spread in the soothing light of the shaded lamps the white glitter of the piled up silver danced over the talking faces and descended in silvery waves into the bosoms of the women salmon and purple colored liveries passed quickly and in the fragrance of soup and the flavors of sherry in the lascivious pleasing of the walls tunes that lidel's band poured from a top gallery a goodly company of time servers panders and others forgot their fears of the land league and the doom that was now waxing to fullness to the girls the dinner seemed interminable but at the private dance afterwards those who were known in official circles or were fortunate enough to meet their friends amuse themselves it took place in the throne room as the guests arrived they scanned each other narrowly people who had known each other from childhood upwards as they met on the landing affected a look of surprise oh so you are here i wonder how you got your invitation well i suppose you are better than i took you to be acquaintances salute at each other more cordially than was their want he or she who had dined at the castle took his or her place at once among the elite he or she who had come to the dance was henceforth considered worthy of a bow in grafting street for Dublin is a city without a conviction without an opinion things are right and wrong according to the dictum of the nearest official if it not be absolutely ill-bred to say you think this or are inclined to take such or such a view it is certainly more advisable to say that the attorney general thinks so or that on one occasion you heard the state steward the chamberlain or any other equally distinguished underling express this or that opinion castle tape is worn in time of morning and in the time of feasting every gig man in the kildare street wears it in his buttonhole and the ladies of maryon square are found to be guarded with it mrs barton's first thought was to get olive partners mallord and lord rossill were said hither and thither and with such good result that the whole evening the beauty was beset with adc's but the marquise had danced three times with a violet scully and mrs barton vented her anger on poor alice the girl knew no one nor was there time to introduce her to men she was consequently sent off with mallord to see where the marquise was hiding and she was commissioned to tell her sister to answer thus when lord kill carney asked for another dance i am engaged share marquise but for you of course i shall have to throw some poor fellow over mrs barton did not know how to play a waiting game her tactics were always to grapple with the enemy she was a Hannibal she risked all to gain all mrs scully on the contrary watched the combat from afar as milky did the german lines when they advanced upon paris the bartons were not invited to the next private dance which was annoying and after long conjecturing asked to the enemy that had served them this trick they resigned themselves to the inevitable and began to look forward to the state ball given on the following monday as they mounted the stairway mrs barton said you know we turn to the left this time and enter patrick's hall by this end the other entrance is blocked up by the dais only the three and four season girls stand about the pillars there they are drawn up in battle array i declare olive barton is here whispered the redoubtable bertha this doesn't look as if the bows were coming forward in their hundreds it is said that lord kill carney has given her up for violet scully i am not a bit surprised said the girl in red and now i think of it all the beauties come to the same end i'll just give her a couple more castle seasons it is that that will pull the fine feathers out of her st patrick's hall was now a huge democratic crush all the little sharp glances of the private dances what you hear were dispensed with as useless for all were within their rights in being at the ball they pushed laughed danced they met as they would have met in rotten row and they took their amusement with the impartiality of pleasure seekers jigging and drinking in a marketplace on fair day on either side of the hall there were ascending benches these were filled with chaperons and debutants and over their heads the white painted gold listed walls were hung with garlands of evergreen oak interwoven with the celebrated silver shields the property of the calper family and in front of the curtains hanging about the dais the maroon legs of his excellency and the teeth and diamonds of her excellency were seen passing to and fro and up and down to the music of oblivion that lidel dispensed with a flowing arm now aren't all the castle balls very nice said bertha and how are you amusing yourself oh very much indeed replied the poor debutant who had not even a brother to take her for a walk down the room or to the buffet for an ice and is it true bertha asked the fierce aunt you know all the news that mr jones has been transferred to another ship and has gone off to the cape yes yes replied the girl a nice end to her bow and after dinnering him up the whole summer too alice shuttered what were they but snowflakes born to shine for a moment and then to fade to die to disappear to become part of the black the foul smelling sloth of mud below the drama in muslin was again unfolded and she could read each act and there was a curtain at the end of each the first was made of young hopeful faces the second of arid solicitation the third of the bitter malignant tongues of bertha duffy and her friend she had begun to experience the worst horrors of a castle ball she was sick of pity for those around her and her lofty spirit resented the insult that was being offered to her sex have you been long here miss barjan she looked up hearting was by her i have been looking for you but the crowd is so great that it is hard to find anyone i think we arrived about a quarter to eleven alice answered then after a pause hearting said will you give me this waltz she ascended and as they made their way through the dancers he added but i believe you do not care about dancing if you'd prefer it we might go for a walk down the room perhaps you'd like an ice this is the way to the buffet but alice and hearting did not stop there long they were glad to leave the heat of gas the odor of sauces the effervescence of the wine the detonation of champagne the tumult of laughter the racing of plates the heaving of bosoms the glittering of bodices for the peace and the pale blue refinement of the long blue drawing room how much of our sentiments and thoughts do we gather from our surroundings and the shining blue of the turquoise colored curtains the pale dead blue of the louis 15 furniture and the exquisite fragility of the glass chandeliers the gold mirrors rootulent with the light of some hundreds of tall wax candles were illustrative of the light dreams and delicate lucidity that filled the souls of the women as they lay back whispering to their partners the crinolettes lifting the skirts over the edges of the sofas here the conversation seems serious there it is smiling and broken by the passing and repassing of a fan only four days more of Dublin said Harding I have settled or rather the fates have settled that I am to leave next Saturday and where are you going to London yes to London I am sorry I am leaving so soon but it can't be helped I have met many nice people here some of whom I shall not be able to forget you speak as if it were necessary to forget them it is surely always better to remember I shall remember you do you think you will at this moment only one thing in the world seem to be of much real importance that the man now sitting by her side should not be taken away from her to know that he existed though far from her would be almost enough a sort of beacon light a light she might never reach to but which would guide her wither in no century have men been loved so implicitly by women as in the 19th nor could this be otherwise for putting aside the fact that the natural wants of love have become a nervous erythism in the struggle that a surplus population of more than two million women has created there are psychological reasons that today more than ever impel women to shrink from the intellectual monotony of their sex and to view with increasing admiration the male mind for as the gates of the harem are being broken down and the gloom of the female mind clears it becomes certain that woman brings a loftier reverence to the shrine of man than she has done in any past age seeing as she now does in him the incarnation of the freedom of which she is vaguely conscious and which she is perceptibly acquiring so sets the main current that is bearing civilization along but beneath the great feminine tide there is an undercurrent of hatred and revolt this is particularly observable in the leaders of the movement women who in the tumult of their aspirations and their passionate yearnings toward the new ideal and the memory of the abasement their sex have been in the past and are still being in the present subjected to forget the laws of life and with virulent virtue and protest condemn love this is to say love in the sense of sexual intercourse and proclaim a higher mission for woman than to be the mother of men and an adjuvant unless corrected by sanitive qualities of a high order is of course found in any physical defect but as the corporeal and incorporeal hereditiments of Alice Barton and lady Cecilia Cullen were examined fully in the beginning of this chapter it is only necessary to here indicate the order of ideas the moral atmosphere of the time to understand the efflorescence of the two minds and to realize how curiously representative they are of this last quarter of the 19th century and it was necessary to make that survey of psychical cause and effect to appreciate the sentiments that actuated Alice in her relationship with Harding she loved him but more through the imagination than the heart she knew he was deceiving her but to her he meant so much that she had not the force of will to cast him off and abandoned herself to the intellectual sensualism of his society it was this and nothing more what her love might have been is not necessary to analyze in the present circumstances it was completely merged in the knowledge that he was to her light freedom and instruction and that when he left darkness and ignorance would again close in upon her they had not spoken for some moments with the cruelty that was peculiar to him he waited for her to break the silence I am sorry you are going away I am afraid we shall never meet again oh yes we shall he replied you'll get married one of these days and come to live in London why should I go to live in London there are Frenchmen born in England Englishmen born in France Hein was a Frenchman born in Germany and you are a Kensingtonian I see nothing Irish in you oh you are very Kensington and therefore you will I do not know when or how but assuredly as a stream goes to the river and the river to the sea you will drift to your native place Kensington but do you know that I have left the hotel there were too many people about to do much work so I took rooms in Mollsworth street there I can write and read undisturbed you might come and see me I should like to very much but I don't think I could ask mother to come with me she is so very busy just now well don't ask your mother to come you won't be afraid to come alone I am afraid I could not do that why not no one will ever know anything about it very possibly but I don't think it would be a proper thing to do I don't think it would be a right thing to do right I thought we had ceased to believe in heaven and hell yes but does that change anything there are surely duties that we owe to our people to our families the present ordering of things may be unjust but as long as it exists had we not better live in accordance with it a very sensible answer and I suppose you are right Alice looked at him in astonishment but she was shaken too intensely in all her feelings to see that he was perfectly sincere that his answer was that of a man who saw and felt through his intelligence and not his conscience the conversation had come to a pause and the silence was broken suddenly by whispered words and the abundant laughter that was seemingly used to hide the emotions that oppressed the speakers finally they sat down quite close to but hidden from Alice in Harding by a screen and through the paper even their breathing was audible all the dancers were gone there was scarcely a white skirt or black coat in the pale blueness of the room evidently the lovers thought they were well out of the reach of eavesdroppers Alice felt this but before she could rise to go Fred Scully had said now May I hope you won't refuse to let me come and see you in your room tonight it would be too cruel if you did I'll still along the passage no one will hear no one will ever know and I'll be so very good I promise you I will oh Fred I'm afraid I can't trust you it would be so very wicked nothing is wicked when we really love besides I only want to talk to you you can talk to me here yes but it isn't the same thing anyone can talk to you here I want to show you a little poem I cut out of the newspaper today for you I'll still along the passage no one will ever know you'll promise to be very good and you won't stop more than five minutes the words were spoken in low soft tones exquisitely expressive of the overthrow of reason and the merging of all the senses in the sweet abandonment of passion Alice sat unable to move till at last awakened by a pained look in her gray eyes she touched Harding's hand with hers and laying her finger on her lips she arose their footfalls made no sound on the deep soft carpet this is very terrible she murmured half to herself Harding had too much tapped to answer and taking advantage of the appearance of Violet Scully who came walking gaily down the room on the Marquise's arm he said your friend Ms. Scully seems to be in high spirits Violet exchanged smiles with Alice as she passed the smile was one of triumph she had waltzed three times with the Marquise and was now going to sit out a set of quadrills what a beautiful waltz the blue Danube is she said leading her admirer to where the blue fans were numerous upon the glistening piano stood a pot filled with white azaleas and in the pauses of the conversation one heard the glass of the chandeliers tinkling gently to the vibration of the music it is a beautiful waltz when I am dancing it with you I am sure you say that to every girl you dance with no I shouldn't know how to say so to anyone but you said the little man humbly and so instinct were the words with truth that the girl in the violence of her emotion fancied her heart had ceased to beat but you haven't known me a fortnight she answered involuntarily but that doesn't matter the moment I saw you I I liked you it is so easy to know the people we like we know what it wants at least I do she was more self-possessed than he but the words am I am I going to be a martin s throb like a burning bullet sunk into the very center of her forehead and to maintain her mental equipoise she was forced though by doing so she felt she was jeopardizing her chances to cook it with him after a long silence she said oh do you think we know at first sight the people we like do you believe in first impressions my first and last impressions of you are always the same all I know is that when you are present all things are bright beautiful and cheering and when you are away I don't much care what happens now these castle balls used to bore me to death last year I used to go into a back room and fall asleep but this year I am as lively as a kitten I think I could go on forever and the castle seems to me the most glorious place on earth I used to hate it I was as bad as Parnell but not for the same reasons of course now I am only afraid he will have his way and they'll shut the whole place up anyhow even if they do I shall always look back upon the season as a very happy time but you do not really think that Parnell will be allowed to have his way said Violet inadvertently I don't know I don't take much interest in politics but I believe things are going to the bad Dublin they say is undermined with secret societies and the murder that was committed the other day in Sackville street was the punishment they inflict on those whom they suspect of being informers even remotely but don't you think that government will soon be obliged to step in and put an end to all this kind of thing I don't know I'm afraid they'll do nothing until we landlords are all ruined Violet's thin face contracted she had introduced a subject that might prevent him from ever proposing to her she knew how heavily the Kilcarny estates were mortgaged and even now as she rightly conjectured the poor little man was inwardly trembling at the folly it had been on his lips to speak three of his immediate ancestors had married penniless girls and it was well known that another love match would precipitate the property over that precipice known to every Irish land owner the encumbered estates court but those dainty temples so finely shaded with light brown tresses that delicately molded head delicate as an Indian carbon ivory dispelled all thoughts of his property and he forgot his duty to marry an heiress Violet meanwhile prompted by her instinct said the right words but things never turn out as well or as badly as we expect them to this facile philosophy went like wine to the little Marquis's head and he longed to throw himself at the feet of his goddess and thank her for the balm she had poured upon him the gloom of approaching ruin disappeared and he saw nothing in the world but a white jewel skirt a thin foot a thin bosom and a pair of bright gray eyes vaguely he sought for equivalent words but loud talking dancers passed into the room and abashed by their stares the marquis broke off a flowering branch and said stammering the while incoherently will you keep this in memory of this evening violet thrust the flowers into her bosom and was about to thank him when an adc came up and claimed her for the dance she told him he was mistaken that she was engaged and taking lord Kilkarni's arm they made their way in silence back to the ballroom violet was satisfied she felt now very sure of her marquis and as they approached mrs. scully a quick glance said that things were going as satisfactorily as could be desired not daring herself to the gossip of the chaperones this excellent lady sat apart maintaining the solitary dignity to which the gallway counter had accustomed her she received the marquis with the same smile as she used to bestow on her best customers and they talked for a few minutes of the different aspects of the ballroom of their friends of things that did not interest them then violet said winsomely affecting an accent of command that enchanted him now i want you to go and dance with someone else let me see what do you say to a la barton if you don't i shall be in her mother's black books for the rest of my life now go we shall be at home tomorrow you might come in for tea and suffocated with secret joy lord Kilkarni made his way across the room to mrs. barton who foolishly canceled a couple of olives engagements and sent her off to dance with him whereas wise violet sat by her mother refusing all her partners but when god saved the queen was played she accepted lord Kilkarni's arm and they pressed forward to see the lord lieutenant and her excellency passed down the room violet's eyes feasted on the bowing black coats and light toilets and leading on her escutcheon she dreamed vividly of the following year when she would take her place amid all these noble people and as high as they stand a piresse on the dais end of chapter 19 recorded by lasan la boy