The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 104: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

_ 90 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. He now fancied that the door slowly opened and some one looked in ; but he could not distin- guish the countenance of the individual. Then it appeared to the stockbroker that this person advanced with noiseless footsteps into the room, shuttmg the door behind him. Warren endea- voured to exercise the power of speech sufficiently to ask what the intruder wanted: but it seemed to him that he could not give utterance to a syl- lable. He felt as if he were in a trance, having w certain dim and vague consciousness of what was passing, but unable to make the slightest physical exertion. And now it seemed to the stockbroker that the intruder sat down opposite to him at the table; and resting his elbow thereon, he shaded his countenance with his hand in such a way that Warren epuld scarcely obtain a glimpse of it; and yet he had the intuitive knowledge that the stranger’s eyes were fixed scrutinizingly upon him. A species of superstitious terror gra- dually stole intothe mind of Christopher Warren ; but by an effort he gasped out, ‘Who are you? Are you man or devil ?” And then it seemed to the stockbroker that a low mocking laygh sounded upon his ear, and that in the same sardonic accent, the intruder replied, “Yes—you are right. I am a Man-Devil.” The consternation of the stockbroker now ap- peared to be utterly overwhelming, and conscious- ness abandoned him. But it was not the uncon- sciousness of a swoon—or at least it seemed as if it were only from a very profound slumber that he presently awoke gradually and drowsily, scarcely knowing where he was or whether he were still dreaming. He found himself in his arm-chair ; the lamp was still burning bright mpon the table; and opposite to him sat a gentle- man, who at once rising from his seat, said with a tone and manner which displayed as much care- less ease and off-hand indifference as actual po- liteness, ‘‘ I must apologize for intruding at this hour; but I was determined to wait your conve- nience—and you see that I have done so.” Mr. Warren rubbed his eyes—then stared at his visitor—and asked, ‘‘ How long have you been here, sir ?” “Oh, not very long. In fact, your nap has been but a short one. I amused myself with the newspaper: ¥ ‘But your name, sir!” ejaculated Warren, recol- lecting a certain impression which had previously been made upon his mind, though he scarcely knew whether it were a dream or a reality. “My name? Ob, I told you just now :”—and it was a strange low mocking laugh which came forth from the intruder’s lips. Warren started up. He was about the last man in existence to entertain a superstitious fear; but he could not help feeling that the present. pro- ceeding was at least a strange one, and there was a certain vague uneasiness in his mind. “You said your name, sir, was——” “You asked me somewhat more impetuously than politely whether I were a man or a devil.” “Yes, sir—I was doubtless half-asleep—almost quite so; and if I mistake not, you replied “Well, sir—what did I reply ?” demanded the visitor; and his eyes appeared to twinkle with a demoniac mischievousness. ‘You asked me if J were a man or a devil “And you said that you were a Man-Devil!” exclaimed the stockbroker, now almost inclined to get into a rage as his superstitious feeling of uneasiness was rapidly passing off. “Ah! did I pronounce it like that?” said the individual, with the utmost coolness; and again the low sardonic laugh came gliding forth from his lips. ““What do you mean, sir, by this jest, so ill- timed—almost impertinent?” demanded Warren, who, being now broad awake again, inwardly ridiculed the idea of having anything to do with more than a man in the person of this intruder. “Jest indeed! It is you, sir, who seem to be making a jest of that which is sober seriousness. I call to see you—you ask me my name—I give it—and you accuse me of being impertinently jocose! Do you know, friend Warren’ "—and he laid his hand familiarly upon the stockbroker’s shoulder—“ if I had not come prepared to be very good friends with you “Tn one word, sir,” exclaimed Warren, retreat- ing so 4s to disengage himself from the hand which was laid upon his shoulder, ‘who are you? and what do you mean by this extraordinary con- | duct e” It was with a sort of easy politeness, quite cool and off-hand, that the stranger answered, “I have already told you that my name is Mandeville : and as for my business, it shall be explained in due course.’ ‘Mandeville ?” echoed Warren, with an air of surprised inquiry. ‘Why, yes—Mandeville. I must have said so just now—only you told me that I pronounced it Man-Devil, and I was top polite to contradict ou.’ “Ah! Mandeville! That is indeed a proper name—natural and intelligible,” said Warren, be- ginning to be as much ashamed as amazed at him- self for the ridiculous mistake which it seemed he had been making. “Yes—here is my card. The name, as you may perceive, is a French one—and it is pro- nounced with a more fluid rapidity that that which you now bestowed upon it.” ° The stockbroker took the card; and he read the name and address of Count DE MANDEVILLE, Rue de Provence, Paris. This line was in the corner; but a mark with a pencil had been drawn through it; and the words, Clarendon Hotel, Bond Sreet, were substituted. “TY sincerely beg your pardon, Count,” said Mr. Warren, confused and bewildered at the idea of the extraordinary reception which he had given the French nobleman : ‘ but to tell you the truth, I have returned from a fatiguing journey —I drank a little too much champagne—sleep stole over me ”. ‘Enough, my dear sir,” interrupted the Count ; ‘‘no further excuse is necessary :”—and he smiled with a half familiar, half patronising air. The stockbroker ‘bowed ; and his eyes now fell upon his letters which lay upon the table. ‘The deuce!” he thought to himself; ‘the Count may have read them while I slept but a second glance reassured him; for he said to himself, ‘‘ No—they have not been touched! That ‘is just how I left them! At least, I would almost swear to it.” He now looked again upon his visitor. Count Mandeville was not above the middle height ; and YN Wn) COMO Colin