"But I want to see artists."
"And am I not an artist?"
"Oh! I know you so well! What is your friend Armari like?"
"A good-looking Italian," replied Cornelius, whistling carelessly, with his hands in his pockets, "rather given to be in love with every woman he sees."
"And Mr. Schwab?"
"A good-looking German, and a professed woman-hater."
"I wish they would come."
"But they won't," he said, with evident satisfaction.
"You are glad of it!" I exclaimed a little indignantly. "You are glad that I have no parties to go to; that I see no one."
I turned away half angrily; he caught me back, ardently entreating me not to be vexed with him; "He could not bear it," he said. Astonished and mute, I looked up into his bending face. The time had been when I had trembled before a look and a frown, and now a petulant speech of mine distressed him thus.
"Forgive me," he earnestly continued, "for not having forestalled your wishes; but I cared so little for other society than yours, that I forgot mine might not be to you so delightful and engrossing. A party, I cannot command, but I shall take you to the play this very evening."
I wanted to refuse, but he would hear of no objection, though I told him plainly he had not the money to spare.
"And if it is my pleasure to spend on you the little I have--what about it, Daisy?"
At length I yielded; and, on his request, went up to ask Kate to join us.
She refused peremptorily, and said she liked home best. As she helped me to finish my toilet, she gave me sundry instructions concerning my behaviour. I was to let Cornelius be civil to me, it was his turn now, and if he picked up my glove, carried my shawl or put it on, I was to take it as a matter of course.
"Very well, Kate," I said, "but it is odd."
"Why so!"
"I don't know, but it is odd."
We were entering the parlour where Cornelius stood waiting for me. I gave him the shawl I had brought down on my arm.
"You are to put that on me," I said, "for Kate says you are to be civil to me; so I hope you will, and not disgrace me in the face of the whole house by any want of proper attention due to the sex. I cannot go and tell the people 'you need not wonder at his being so rude; it is all because he knew me when I was a little girl.'"
"Impertinent little thing," observed Kate, "I only told her not to be civil to you."
"Well, am I? I spoke as impertinently as I could. Did I not, Cornelius?"
"Indeed you did," he replied, smiling, and helping me to pin my shawl on.
"Have you any more commands for me?"
"Only just to hold my fan, my gloves, my scent-bottle, my handkerchief, and to give me your arm."
He managed to obey me; Kate smiled approvingly, and we entered the cab which was waiting for us at the door. Cornelius took me to a house which had not long been open, but where both performances and actors were said to be good. We occupied the front seats of a centre box, and commanded a full view of the stage and audience. I was young, unaccustomed to pleasure, and easily amused. I felt interested in the play, and when the second act was over, I turned to Cornelius and said--
"Do you think Lady Ada will marry her cousin?"
"I suppose so," he replied, without looking at me.
"Oh! Cornelius, I hope not; he is not the right one, you know."
"Is he not?"
"Oh! dear, no; what can you have been thinking of?"
"That there never was a more insolent fellow than that man in the pit,"
replied Cornelius, who looked much irritated, "for the whole of the last act he has kept his opera-glass fully bent upon you."
"Then his neck must ache by this."
"How coolly you take it!"
"What am I to do?"
"Nothing, of course; but surely you will grant that sort of admiration is very insolent."
"How do I know it is admiration? He may be thinking 'poor girl, what a pity she is so shockingly dressed, or has such a bad figure, or has not better features!'"
"Do you think a man loses a whole act to find out that a girl is plain?"
sceptically asked Cornelius.
I did not answer. He very unreasonably construed this into being pleased with being looked at. Wishing to get rid of the subject, I asked him to change places with me; he accepted at once, and took my seat, whilst I sat partly behind him. At first this produced nothing; the gentleman with the opera-glass really seemed to enjoy the face of Cornelius quite as much as mine.
"He has not found it out yet," I said. But even as I spoke, the individual I alluded to rose and left the pit.
"Oh! he has found it out, has he?" ironically inquired Cornelius.
The third act was beginning when the door of our box opened, and a foreign-looking man, dark and handsome, entered. I felt sure it was Armari, it was; but it also was the gentleman with the opera-glass, a fact that gave rather an odd character to the greeting of Cornelius.
Most foreigners are self-possessed. Signor Armari was pre-eminently so.
He looked at me as if he knew not the use of the opera-glass, which he still held, and even had the assurance to offer it to me. I did not know Italian sufficiently to understand the whole of his discourse; but it seemed to me that its chief purport was an enthusiastic, intense admiration of the golden hair, blue eyes, and dazzling complexions of English ladies--a theme that, by no means, appeared to delight Cornelius.
Signor Armari remained with us until the play was over. We then parted from him, and never once mentioned his name, until we reached the Grove.
Kate was sitting up for us. She received us with a pleased smile, asked how we had been entertained, and what the play was about. I told her as well as I could, but, after the second act, my memory was rather at fault.
Cornelius said, pointedly:
"You must not wonder if she does not remember it better. I was talking to Armari."
"What, your old friend Armari?" interrupted Kate.
"Yes, he is in England."
He spoke with a calmness that astonished her.