Amelia's manners were such when she and George visited
Crawley and his wife at these quarters, that they had
very nearly come to their first quarrel; that is, George
scolded his wife violently for her evident unwillingness to
go, and the high and mighty manner in which she comported
herself towards Mrs. Crawley, her old friend; and
Amelia did not say one single word in reply; but with her
husband's eye upon her, and Rebecca scanning her as she
felt, was, if possible, more bashful and awkward on the
second visit which she paid to Mrs. Rawdon, than on her
first call.
Rebecca was doubly affectionate, of course, and would
not take notice, in the least, of her friend's coolness. "I
think Emmy has become prouder since her father's name
was in the--since Mr. Sedley's MISFORTUNES," Rebecca
said, softening the phrase charitably for George's ear.
"Upon my word, I thought when we were at Brighton
she was doing me the honour to be jealous of me; and
now I suppose she is scandalised because Rawdon, and I,
and the General live together. Why, my dear creature,
how could we, with our means, live at all, but for a friend
to share expenses? And do you suppose that Rawdon is
not big enough to take care of my honour? But I'm very
much obliged to Emmy, very," Mrs. Rawdon said.
"Pooh, jealousy!" answered George, "all women are
jealous."
"And all men too. Weren't you jealous of General
Tufto, and the General of you, on the night of the Opera?
Why, he was ready to eat me for going with you to visit
that foolish little wife of yours; as if I care a pin for
either of you," Crawley's wife said, with a pert toss of
her head. "Will you dine here? The dragon dines with the
Commander-in-Chief. Great news is stirring. They say
the French have crossed the frontier. We shall have a
quiet dinner."
George accepted the invitation, although his wife was a
little ailing. They were now not quite six weeks married.
Another woman was laughing or sneering at her expense,
and he not angry. He was not even angry with himself,
this good-natured fellow. It is a shame, he owned to himself;
but hang it, if a pretty woman WILL throw herself in
your way, why, what can a fellow do, you know? I AM
rather free about women, he had often said, smiling and
nodding knowingly to Stubble and Spooney, and other
comrades of the mess-table; and they rather respected
him than otherwise for this prowess. Next to conquering
in war, conquering in love has been a source of pride,
time out of mind, amongst men in Vanity Fair, or how
should schoolboys brag of their amours, or Don Juan be
popular?
So Mr. Osborne, having a firm conviction in his own
mind that he was a woman-killer and destined to conquer,
did not run counter to his fate, but yielded himself
up to it quite complacently. And as Emmy did not say
much or plague him with her jealousy, but merely became
unhappy and pined over it miserably in secret, he chose
to fancy that she was not suspicious of what all his
acquaintance were perfectly aware--namely, that he was
carrying on a desperate flirtation with Mrs. Crawley. He
rode with her whenever she was free. He pretended
regimental business to Amelia (by which falsehood she was
not in the least deceived), and consigning his wife to
solitude or her brother's society, passed his evenings in
the Crawleys' company; losing money to the husband and
flattering himself that the wife was dying of love for him.
It is very likely that this worthy couple never absolutely
conspired and agreed together in so many words: the one
to cajole the young gentleman, whilst the other won his
money at cards: but they understood each other perfectly
well, and Rawdon let Osborne come and go with entire
good humour.
George was so occupied with his new acquaintances
that he and William Dobbin were by no means so much
together as formerly. George avoided him in public and
in the regiment, and, as we see, did not like those
sermons which his senior was disposed to inflict upon him.
If some parts of his conduct made Captain Dobbin
exceedingly grave and cool; of what use was it to tell George
that, though his whiskers were large, and his own
opinion of his knowingness great, he was as green as a
schoolboy? that Rawdon was making a victim of him as he had
done of many before, and as soon as he had used him
would fling him off with scorn? He would not listen: and
so, as Dobbin, upon those days when he visited the
0sborne house, seldom had the advantage of meeting his
old friend, much painful and unavailing talk between
them was spared. Our friend George was in the full career
of the pleasures of Vanity Fair.
There never was, since the days of Darius, such a brilliant
train of camp-followers as hung round the Duke of
Wellington's army in the Low Countries, in 1815; and
led it dancing and feasting, as it were, up to the very
brink of battle. A certain ball which a noble Duchess
gave at Brussels on the 15th of June in the above-named
year is historical. All Brussels had been in a state of
excitement about it, and I have heard from ladies who
were in that town at the period, that the talk and interest
of persons of their own sex regarding the ball was much
greater even than in respect of the enemy in their front.
The struggles, intrigues, and prayers to get tickets were
such as only English ladies will employ, in order to gain
admission to the society of the great of their own nation.
Jos and Mrs. O'Dowd, who were panting to be asked,
strove in vain to procure tickets; but others of our friends
were more lucky. For instance, through the interest of
my Lord Bareacres, and as a set-off for the dinner at the
restaurateur's, George got a card for Captain and Mrs.
Osborne; which circumstance greatly elated him. Dobbin,
who was a friend of the General commanding the division
in which their regiment was, came laughing one
day to Mrs. Osborne, and displayed a similar invitation,
which made Jos envious, and George wonder how the
deuce he should be getting into society. Mr. and Mrs.
Rawdon, finally, were of course invited; as became the
friends of a General commanding a cavalry brigade.
On the appointed night, George, having commanded
new dresses and ornaments of all sorts for Amelia, drove
to the famous ball, where his wife did not know a single
soul. After looking about for Lady Bareacres, who cut
him, thinking the card was quite enough--and after
placing Amelia on a bench, he left her to her own
cogitations there, thinking, on his own part, that he had
behaved very handsomely in getting her new clothes, and
bringing her to the ball, where she was free to amuse
herself as she liked. Her thoughts were not of the
pleasantest, and nobody except honest Dobbin came to
disturb them.
Whilst her appearance was an utter failure (as her
husband felt with a sort of rage), Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's
debut was, on the contrary, very brilliant. She arrived
very late. Her face was radiant; her dress perfection. In
the midst of the great persons assembled, and the eye-
glasses directed to her, Rebecca seemed to be as cool
and collected as when she used to marshal Miss Pinkerton's
little girls to church. Numbers of the men she knew
already, and the dandies thronged round her. As for the
ladies, it was whispered among them that Rawdon had
run away with her from out of a convent, and that she
was a relation of the Montmorency family. She spoke
French so perfectly that there might be some truth in
this report, and it was agreed that her manners were
fine, and her air distingue. Fifty would-be partners
thronged round her at once, and pressed to have the
honour to dance with her. But she said she was engaged,
and only going to dance very little; and made her way at
once to the place where Emmy sate quite unnoticed, and
dismally unhappy. And so, to finish the poor child at
once, Mrs. Rawdon ran and greeted affectionately her
dearest Amelia, and began forthwith to patronise her.
She found fault with her friend's dress, and her
hairdresser, and wondered how she could be so chaussee,
and vowed that she must send her corsetiere the next
morning. She vowed that it was a delightful ball; that
there was everybody that every one knew, and only a
VERY few nobodies in the whole room. It is a fact, that
in a fortnight, and after three dinners in general society,
this young woman had got up the genteel jargon so well,
that a native could not speak it better; and it was only
from her French being so good, that you could know she
was not a born woman of fashion.
George, who had left Emmy on her bench on entering
the ball-room, very soon found his way back when
Rebecca was by her dear friend's side. Becky was just
lecturing Mrs. Osborne upon the follies which her
husband was committing. "For God's sake, stop him from
gambling, my dear," she said, "or he will ruin himself.
He and Rawdon are playing at cards every night, and you
know he is very poor, and Rawdon will win every shilling
from him if he does not take care. Why don't you prevent
him, you little careless creature? Why don't you
come to us of an evening, instead of moping at home
with that Captain Dobbin? I dare say he is tres aimable;
but how could one love a man with feet of such size?
Your husband's feet are darlings--Here he comes. Where
have you been, wretch? Here is Emmy crying her eyes
out for you. Are you coming to fetch me for the quadrille?"
And she left her bouquet and shawl by Amelia's
side, and tripped off with George to dance. Women only
know how to wound so. There is a poison on the tips of
their little shafts, which stings a thousand times more
than a man's blunter weapon. Our poor Emmy, who had
never hated, never sneered all her life, was powerless in
the hands of her remorseless little enemy.
George danced with Rebecca twice or thrice--how many
times Amelia scarcely knew. She sat quite unnoticed in
her corner, except when Rawdon came up with some
words of clumsy conversation: and later in the evening,
when Captain Dobbin made so bold as to bring her
refreshments and sit beside her. He did not like to ask her
why she was so sad; but as a pretext for the tears which
were filling in her eyes, she told him that Mrs. Crawley
had alarmed her by telling her that George would go on
playing.
"It is curious, when a man is bent upon play, by what
clumsy rogues he will allow himself to be cheated,"
Dobbin said; and Emmy said, "Indeed." She was thinking of
something else. It was not the loss of the money that
grieved her.
At last George came back for Rebecca's shawl and
flowers. She was going away. She did not even
condescend to come back and say good-bye to Amelia. The
poor girl let her husband come and go without saying a
word, and her head fell on her breast. Dobbin had been
called away, and was whispering deep in conversation
with the General of the division, his friend, and had not
seen this last parting. George went away then with the
bouquet; but when he gave it to the owner, there lay a
note, coiled like a snake among the flowers. Rebecca's
eye caught it at once. She had been used to deal with
notes in early life. She put out her hand and took the
nosegay. He saw by her eyes as they met, that she was
aware what she should find there. Her husband hurried her
away, still too intent upon his own thoughts, seemingly,
to take note of any marks of recognition which might
pass between his friend and his wife. These were,
however, but trifling. Rebecca gave George her hand with one
of her usual quick knowing glances, and made a curtsey
and walked away. George bowed over the hand, said
nothing in reply to a remark of Crawley's, did not hear it
even, his brain was so throbbing with triumph and
excitement, and allowed them to go away without a word.
His wife saw the one part at least of the bouquet-scene.
It was quite natural that George should come at Rebecca's
request to get her her scarf and flowers: it was no
more than he had done twenty times before in the course
of the last few days; but now it was too much for her.
"William," she said, suddenly clinging to Dobbin, who was
near her, "you've always been very kind to me--I'm--
I'm not well. Take me home." She did not know she called
him by his Christian name, as George was accustomed to
do. He went away with her quickly. Her lodgings were
hard by; and they threaded through the crowd without,
where everything seemed to be more astir than even in the
ball-room within.
George had been angry twice or thrice at finding his
wife up on his return from the parties which he
frequented: so she went straight to bed now; but although
she did not sleep, and although the din and clatter, and
the galloping of horsemen were incessant, she never heard
any of these noises, having quite other disturbances to
keep her awake.
Osborne meanwhile, wild with elation, went off to a
play-table, and began to bet frantically. He won repeatedly.
"Everything succeeds with me to-night," he said.
But his luck at play even did not cure him of his restlessness,
and he started up after awhile, pocketing his winnings,
and went to a buffet, where he drank off many
bumpers of wine.
Here, as he was rattling away to the people around,
laughing loudly and wild with spirits, Dobbin found him.
He had been to the card-tables to look there for his
friend. Dobbin looked as pale and grave as his comrade
was flushed and jovial.
''Hullo, Dob! Come and drink, old Dob! The Duke's
wine is famous. Give me some more, you sir"; and he
held out a trembling glass for the liquor.
