remark with regard to the arrival of Rawdon Crawley and
his wife proved to be correct. In the midst of a little
troop of horsemen, consisting of some of the very greatest
persons in Brussels, Rebecca was seen in the prettiest
and tightest of riding-habits, mounted on a beautiful
little Arab, which she rode to perfection (having acquired
the art at Queen's Crawley, where the Baronet, Mr.
Pitt, and Rawdon himself had given her many lessons),
and by the side of the gallant General Tufto.
"Sure it's the Juke himself," cried Mrs. Major O'Dowd
to Jos, who began to blush violently; "and that's Lord
Uxbridge on the bay. How elegant he looks! Me brother,
Molloy Malony, is as like him as two pays."
Rebecca did not make for the carriage; but as soon
as she perceived her old acquaintance Amelia seated in
it, acknowledged her presence by a gracious nod and
smile, and by kissing and shaking her fingers playfully
in the direction of the vehicle. Then she resumed her
conversation with General Tufto, who asked "who the
fat officer was in the gold-laced cap?" on which Becky
replied, "that he was an officer in the East Indian service."
But Rawdon Crawley rode out of the ranks of his
company, and came up and shook hands heartily with
Amelia, and said to Jos, "Well, old boy, how are you?"
and stared in Mrs. O'Dowd's face and at.the black cock's
feathers until she began to think she had made a
conquest of him.
George, who had been delayed behind, rode up almost
immediately with Dobbin, and they touched their caps to
the august personages, among whom Osborne at once
perceived Mrs. Crawley. He was delighted to see Rawdon
leaning over his carriage familiarly and talking to Amelia,
and met the aide-de-camp's cordial greeting with more
than corresponding warmth. The nods between Rawdon
and Dobbin were of the very faintest specimens of
politeness.
Crawley told George where they were stopping with
General Tufto at the Hotel du Parc, and George made
his friend promise to come speedily to Osborne's own
residence. "Sorry I hadn't seen you three days ago,"
George said. "Had a dinner at the Restaurateur's--rather a
nice thing. Lord Bareacres, and the Countess, and Lady
Blanche, were good enough to dine with us--wish we'd
had you." Having thus let his friend know his claims to be
a man of fashion, Osborne parted from Rawdon, who
followed the august squadron down an alley into which
they cantered, while George and Dobbin resumed their
places, one on each side of Amelia's carriage.
"How well the Juke looked," Mrs. O'Dowd remarked.
"The Wellesleys and Malonys are related; but, of course,
poor I would never dream of introjuicing myself unless
his Grace thought proper to remember our family-tie."
"He's a great soldier," Jos said, much more at ease
now the great man was gone. "Was there ever a battle
won like Salamanca? Hey, Dobbin? But where was it he
learnt his art? In India, my boy! The jungle's the school
for a general, mark me that. I knew him myself, too,
Mrs. O'Dowd: we both of us danced the same evening
with Miss Cutler, daughter of Cutler of the Artillery, and
a devilish fine girl, at Dumdum."
The apparition of the great personages held them
all in talk during the drive; and at dinner; and until the
hour came when they were all to go to the Opera.
It was almost like Old England. The house was filled
with familiar British faces, and those toilettes for which
the British female has long been celebrated. Mrs.
O'Dowd's was not the least splendid amongst these, and
she had a curl on her forehead, and a set of Irish diamonds
and Cairngorms, which outshone all the decorations
in the house, in her notion. Her presence used to
excruciate Osborne; but go she would upon all parties of
pleasure on which she heard her young friends were bent.
It never entered into her thought but that they must be
charmed with her company.
"She's been useful to you, my dear," George said to
his wife, whom he could leave alone with less scruple
when she had this society. "But what a comfort it is that
Rebecca's come: you will have her for a friend, and we
may get rid now of this damn'd Irishwoman." To this
Amelia did not answer, yes or no: and how do we know
what her thoughts were?
The coup d'oeil of the Brussels opera-house did not
strike Mrs. O'Dowd as being so fine as the theatre in
Fishamble Street, Dublin, nor was French music at all
equal, in her opinion, to the melodies of her native country.
She favoured her friends with these and other opinions
in a very loud tone of voice, and tossed about a
great clattering fan she sported, with the most splendid
complacency.
"Who is that wonderful woman with Amelia, Rawdon,
love?" said a lady in an opposite box (who, almost always
civil to her husband in private, was more fond than
ever of him in company).
"Don't you see that creature with a yellow thing in
her turban, and a red satin gown, and a great watch?"
"Near the pretty little woman in white?" asked a
middle-aged gentleman seated by the querist's side, with
orders in his button, and several under-waistcoats, and
a great, choky, white stock.
"That pretty woman in white is Amelia, General: you
are remarking all the pretty women, you naughty man."
"Only one, begad, in the world!" said the General, delighted,
and the lady gave him a tap with a large bouquet
which she had.
"Bedad it's him," said Mrs. O'Dowd; "and that's the
very bokay he bought in the Marshy aux Flures!" and
when Rebecca, having caught her friend's eye, performed
the little hand-kissing operation once more, Mrs. Major
O'D., taking the compliment to herself, returned the salute
with a gracious smile, which sent that unfortunate
Dobbin shrieking out of the box again.
At the end of the act, George was out of the box in a
moment, and he was even going to pay his respects to
Rebecca in her loge. He met Crawley in the lobby, however,
where they exchanged a few sentences upon the
occurrences of the last fortnight.
"You found my cheque all right at the agent's?
George said, with a knowing air.
"All right, my boy," Rawdon answered. "Happy to give
you your revenge. Governor come round?"
"Not yet," said George, "but he will; and you know I've
some private fortune through my mother. Has Aunty
relented?"
"Sent me twenty pound, damned old screw. When shall
we have a meet? The General dines out on Tuesday.
Can't you come Tuesday? I say, make Sedley cut off his
moustache. What the devil does a civilian mean with a
moustache and those infernal frogs to his coat! By-bye.
Try and come on Tuesday"; and Rawdon was going-off
with two brilliant young gentlemen of fashion, who were,
like himself, on the staff of a general officer.
George was only half pleased to be asked to dinner on
that particular day when the General was not to dine. "I
will go in and pay my respects to your wife," said he; at
which Rawdon said, "Hm, as you please," looking very
glum, and at which the two young officers exchanged
knowing glances. George parted from them and strutted
down the lobby to the General's box, the number of which
he had carefully counted.
"Entrez," said a clear little voice, and our friend found
himself in Rebecca's presence; who jumped up, clapped
her hands together, and held out both of them to George,
so charmed was she to see him. The General, with the
orders in his button, stared at the newcomer with a sulky
scowl, as much as to say, who the devil are you?
"My dear Captain George!" cried little Rebecca in an
ecstasy. "How good of you to come. The General and I
were moping together tete-a-tete. General, this is my
Captain George of whom you heard me talk."
"Indeed," said the General, with a very small bow; "of
what regiment is Captain George?"
George mentioned the --th: how he wished he could
have said it was a crack cavalry corps.
"Come home lately from the West Indies, I believe.
Not seen much service in the late war. Quartered here,
Captain George?"--the General went on with killing
haughtiness.
"Not Captain George, you stupid man; Captain Osborne,"
Rebecca said. The General all the while was looking
savagely from one to the other.
"Captain Osborne, indeed! Any relation to the L--
Osbornes?"
"We bear the same arms," George said, as indeed was
the fact; Mr. Osborne having consulted with a herald in
Long Acre, and picked the L-- arms out of the peerage,
when he set up his carriage fifteen years before. The
General made no reply to this announcement; but took
up his opera-glass--the double-barrelled lorgnon was not
invented in those days--and pretended to examine the
house; but Rebecca saw that his disengaged eye was
working round in her direction, and shooting out
bloodshot glances at her and George.
She redoubled in cordiality. "How is dearest Amelia?
But I needn't ask: how pretty she looks! And who is that
nice good-natured looking creature with her--a flame of
yours? O, you wicked men! And there is Mr. Sedley
eating ice, I declare: how he seems to enjoy it! General, why
have we not had any ices?"
"Shall I go and fetch you some?" said the General,
bursting with wrath.
"Let ME go, I entreat you," George said.
"No, I will go to Amelia's box. Dear, sweet girl! Give
me your arm, Captain George"; and so saying, and with a
nod to the General, she tripped into the lobby. She gave
George the queerest, knowingest look, when they were
together, a look which might have been interpreted,
"Don't you see the state of affairs, and what a fool I'm
making of him?" But he did not perceive it. He was
thinking of his own plans, and lost in pompous admiration
of his own irresistible powers of pleasing.
The curses to which the General gave a low utterance,
as soon as Rebecca and her conqueror had quitted him,
were so deep, that I am sure no compositor would
venture to print them were they written down. They came
from the General's heart; and a wonderful thing it is to
think that the human heart is capable of generating such
produce, and can throw out, as occasion demands, such
a supply of lust and fury, rage and hatred.
Amelia's gentle eyes, too, had been fixed anxiously on
the pair, whose conduct had so chafed the jealous General;
but when Rebecca entered her box, she flew to her
friend with an affectionate rapture which showed itself, in
spite of the publicity of the place; for she embraced her
dearest friend in the presence of the whole house, at least
in full view of the General's glass, now brought to bear
upon the Osborne party. Mrs. Rawdon saluted Jos, too,
with the kindliest greeting: she admired Mrs. O'Dowd's
large Cairngorm brooch and superb Irish diamonds, and
wouldn't believe that they were not from Golconda direct.
She bustled, she chattered, she turned and twisted,
and smiled upon one, and smirked on another, all in full
view of the jealous opera-glass opposite. And when the
time for the ballet came (in which there was no dancer
that went through her grimaces or performed her comedy
of action better), she skipped back to her own box, leaning
on Captain Dobbin's arm this time. No, she would
not have George's: he must stay and talk to his dearest,
best, little Amelia.
"What a humbug that woman is!" honest old Dobbin
mumbled to George, when he came back from Rebecca's
box, whither he had conducted her in perfect silence, and
with a countenance as glum as an undertaker's. "She
writhes and twists about like a snake. All the time she
was here, didn't you see, George, how she was acting at
the General over the way?"
"Humbug--acting! Hang it, she's the nicest little
woman in England," George replied, showing his white
teeth, and giving his ambrosial whiskers a twirl. "You
ain't a man of the world, Dobbin. Dammy, look at her
now, she's talked over Tufto in no time. Look how he's
laughing! Gad, what a shoulder she has! Emmy, why
didn't you have a bouquet? Everybody has a bouquet."
"Faith, then, why didn't you BOY one?" Mrs. O'Dowd
said; and both Amelia and William Dobbin thanked her
for this timely observation. But beyond this neither of
the ladies rallied. Amelia was overpowered by the flash
and the dazzle and the fashionable talk of her worldly rival.
Even the O'Dowd was silent and subdued after Becky's
brilliant apparition, and scarcely said a word more about
Glenmalony all the evening.
"When do you intend to give up play, George, as you
have promised me, any time these hundred years?" Dobbin
said to his friend a few days after the night at the
Opera. "When do you intend to give up sermonising?"
was the other's reply. "What the deuce, man, are you
alarmed about? We play low; I won last night. You
don't suppose Crawley cheats? With fair play it comes
to pretty much the same thing at the year's end."
"But I don't think he could pay if he lost," Dobbin
said; and his advice met with the success which advice
usually commands. Osborne and Crawley were repeatedly
together now. General Tufto dined abroad almost constantly.
George was always welcome in the apartments
(very close indeed to those of the General) which the
aide-de-camp and his wife occupied in the hotel.
