Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 435 | Page 5

Mourairef was an exceedingly affable person; and the English family aforesaid, whom I have reason to believe were Cockney tradesfolks, pronounced her to be very high-bred--without a fault, indeed, if it had not been for that horrid habit of smoking, which, as they judiciously observed, however, was a peculiar characteristic of the Russians. I am afraid, they would have set her down as a vulgar wretch, had they not been forewarned that she was aristocratic. The French lady seemed to look upon the foreign one as an intruder, and scarcely deigned to turn her eyes in that direction. Probably this was because she was so charming, and monopolised so much of the attention of us gentlemen.
'They no sooner looked than they loved,' says Rosalind. This was not, perhaps, quite the case with M. Jerome and the Russian princess, who took care to let it be known that she was a widow; but in a very few days what is called 'a secret sympathy' evidently sprang into existence. The former, of course, made the first advances. His diplomatic and seductive arts were not, however, put to a great test, for in three days the lady manifestly felt uneasy until he presented himself at dinner; and in a week, I met them walking arm in arm on the bridge. It was easy to see that he was on his good behaviour; and from some fragments of conversations I overheard between them when they met in the passage opposite my door, I learned that he was 'doing the melancholy dodge,' as in the vernacular we would express it; and had many harrowing revelations to make as to the manner in which his heart had been trifled with by unfeeling beauties.
'There is a tide in the affairs of an h?tel:' I am in a mood for quoting from my favourite authors; and whereas we had at one time sat down nearly twenty to table, we suddenly found ourselves to be only three--M. Jerome, the princess, and myself. A kind of intimacy was the natural result. We made ourselves mutually agreeable; and I was not at all surprised, when one evening Madame de Mourairef invited us two gentlemen to take tea with her in her little sitting-room. Both accepted joyfully; and though I am persuaded that M. Jerome would have preferred a t��te-��-t��te, he accepted my companionship with tolerable grace. We strolled together, indeed, on the quay for half an hour. It was raining slightly, and I had a cough; but I have too good an opinion of human nature to imagine that my new acquaintance kept me out by his fascinating conversation, in order to make me catch a desperate cold, that would send me wheezing to bed.
The tea was served, as I suppose it is served in Russia, very weak, with a plentiful admixture of milk and accompaniment of biscuits glac��s. Madame de Mourairef did the honours in an inexpressibly graceful manner; and I observed that there was a delightful intimacy between her and her maid Penelope, that quite upset my ideas of northern serfdom. I think they even once exchanged a wink, but of this I am not sure. There is nothing like experience to expand one's ideas, and I made up my mind to re-examine the whole of my notions of Muscovite vassalage. M. Jerome seemed less struck by these circumstances than myself--being probably too much absorbed in contemplation of our hostess--but even he could not avoid exclaiming, 'that if that were the way in which serfs were treated, he should like to be a serf--of such a mistress!'
'You Frenchmen are so gallant!' was the reply.
A little while afterwards, somebody proposed a game of whist. There was an objection to 'dead-man,' and Penelope, with a semi-oriental salaam, offered to 'take a hand.' Madame de Mourairef was graciously pleased to order her to do so. We shuffled, cut, and played; and when midnight came, and it was necessary to retire, I felt almost afraid to examine into my own heart, lest I might find that the soubrette appeared to me at least as high-bred as the mistress.
We spent some delightful evenings in this manner, and perhaps still more delightful days, for by degrees we became inseparable, and all our walks and drives were made in common. The gar?on often looked maliciously at me, even offered once or twice to develop his Art of Love; but I did not choose to be interrupted in my physiognomical studies, and gave him no opportunity.
A picnic was proposed, and agreed upon. We intended at first to go to Chambord; but there was danger of a crowd; and a valley on the road to Vend?me was pitched upon. A cal��che took us to the place, and set us down in a delightful meadow, enamelled with flowers, as