Delia Blanchflower

Delia Blanchflower [with accents]

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Title: Delia Blanchflower
Author: Mrs. Humphry Ward
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DELIA
BLANCHFLOWER
BY
MRS. HUMPHRY WARD
AUTHOR "LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER," ETC.
Frontispiece in color by
WILL FOSTER

DELIA BLANCHFLOWER

Chapter I
"Not a Britisher to be seen--or scarcely! Well, I can do without 'em for
a bit!"
And the Englishman whose mind shaped these words continued his
leisurely survey of the crowded salon of a Tyrolese hotel, into which a
dining-room like a college hall had just emptied itself after the mid-day
meal. Meanwhile a German, sitting near, seeing that his tall neighbour
had been searching his pockets in vain for matches, offered some. The
Englishman's quick smile in response modified the German's general
opinion of English manners, and the two exchanged some remarks on
the weather--a thunder shower was splashing outside--remarks which
bore witness at least to the Englishman's courage in using such
knowledge of the German tongue as he possessed. Then, smoking
contentedly, he leant against the wall behind him, still looking on.
He saw a large room, some seventy feet long, filled with a

miscellaneous foreign crowd--South Germans, Austrians, Russians,
Italians--seated in groups round small tables, smoking, playing cards or
dominoes, reading the day's newspapers which the funicular had just
brought up, or lazily listening to the moderately good band which was
playing some Rheingold selection at the farther end.
To his left was a large family circle--Russians, according to
information derived from the headwaiter--and among them, a girl,
apparently about eighteen, sitting on the edge of the party and absorbed
in a novel of which she was eagerly turning the pages. From her face
and figure the half savage, or Asiatic note, present in the physiognomy
and complexion of her brothers and sisters, was entirely absent. Her
beautiful head with its luxuriant mass of black hair, worn low upon the
cheek, and coiled in thick plaits behind, reminded the Englishman of a
Greek fragment he had admired, not many days before, in the Louvre;
her form too was of a classical lightness and perfection. The
Englishman noticed indeed that her temper was apparently not equal to
her looks. When her small brothers interrupted her, she repelled them
with a pettish word or gesture; the English governess addressed her,
and got no answer beyond a haughty look; even her mother was
scarcely better treated.
Close by, at another table, was another young girl, rather younger than
the first, and equally pretty. She too was dark haired, with a delicate
oval face and velvet black eyes, but without any of the passionate
distinction, the fire and flame of the other. She was German, evidently.
She wore a plain white dress with a red sash, and her little feet in white
shoes were lightly crossed in front of her. The face and eyes were all
alive, it seemed to him, with happiness, with the mere pleasure of life.
She could not keep herself still for a moment. Either she was sending
laughing signals to an elderly man near her, presumably her father, or
chattering at top speed with another girl of her own age, or gathering
her whole graceful body into a gesture of delight as the familiar
Rheingold music passed from one lovely motif to another.
"You dear little thing!" thought the Englishman, with an impulse of
tenderness, which passed into foreboding amusement as he compared

the pretty creature with some of the matrons sitting near her, with one
in particular, a lady of enormous girth, whose achievements in eating
and drinking at meals had seemed