The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II

“A Gerichts-Ruf!” said Hans, with a voice of deep reverence; for he entertained a most German terror for the law and its authority. “This is a serious affair.”

“I suppose it is,” sighed Dalton; “but I hope we ‘re in a Christian country, where the law is open?”

Hans nodded, and Peter went on: —

“What I mean is, that nothing can be done in a hurry; that when we have a man on our side, he can oppose and obstruct, and give delays, picking a hole here and finding a flaw there; asking for vouchers for this and proofs for that, and then waiting for witnesses that never come, and looking for papers that never existed; making Chancery of it, Hans, my boy, – making Chancery of it.”

“Not here, – not with us!” said Hans, gravely. “You must answer to this charge to-day, and before four o’clock too, or to-morrow there will be writ of ‘contumacy’ against you. You have n’t got the money?”

“Of course I haven’t, nor a ten-pound note towards it.”

“Then you must provide security.”

“‘T is easy said, my little man, but it is not so easy dealing with human beings as with the little wooden figures in your shop beyond.”

“There must be ‘good and substantial bail,’ as the summons declares; such as will satisfy the Court,” said Hans, who seemed at once to have become a man of acute worldly perception at sight of this printed document.

“Security – bail!” exclaimed Dalton. “You might as well ask Robinson Crusoe who ‘d be godfather to his child on the desert island. There’s not a man, woman, or child in the place would give me a meal’s meat There’s not a house I could shelter my head in for one night; and see now,” cried he, carried away by an impulse of passionate excitement, “it is n’t by way of disparagement I say it to this little town, – for the world all over is the same, – the more you give the less you get! Treat them with champagne and venison; send money to this one, make presents to that, and the day luck turns with you, the best word they ‘ll have for you is, ‘He was a wasteful, careless devil; could n’t keep it when he had it; lived always above his means; all hand and mouth.’ It’s a kind friend that will vouchsafe as much as ‘Poor fellow! I ‘m sorry for him.’”

“And to what end is wealth,” cried Hans, boldly, “if it but conduce to this? Are the friends well chosen who can behave thus? Are the hospitalities well bestowed that meet such return? or is it not rather selfishness is paid back in the same base coin that it uttered?”

“For the matter of that,” said Dalton, angrily, “I never found that vulgar people was a bit more grateful than their betters, nor low manners any warranty for high principles; and when one is to be shipwrecked it’s better to go down in a ‘seventy-four’ than be drowned out of a punt in a mill-pond.”

“It’s past noon already,” said Hans, pointing to the son-dial on his house. “There ‘s little time to be lost.”

“And as little to be gained,” muttered Dalton, moodily, as he strolled out into the garden.

“Let me have this paper,” said Hans; “I will see the Herr Kraus myself, and try if something cannot be done. With time, I suppose, you could meet this claim?”

“To be sure I could, when my remittances arrive, – when my instalments are paid up, when my rents come in, when – ” He was about to add, “when luck changes,” but he stopped himself just in time.

“There need be no difficulty if you can be certain,” said Hans, slowly.

“Certain! – and of what is a man certain in this life?” said Dalton, in his tone of moralizing. “Was n’t I certain of the Corrig-O’Neal estate? Wasn’t I certain of Miles Dalton’s property in the funds? Wasn’t I certain that if the Parliament was n’t taken away from us that I ‘d have my own price for the boroagh of Knocknascanelera? – and sorrow one of the three ever came to me. Ay, no later than last night, was n’t I certain that black would come up – ”

“When I said certain,” broke in Hans, “I meant so far as human foresight could pledge itself; but I did not speak of the chances of the play-table. If your expectations of payment rest on these, do not talk of them as certainties.”

“What’s my estates for? Where’s my landed property?” cried Dalton, indignantly. “To hear you talk, one would think I was a chevalier of indhustry, as they call them.”

“I ask your pardon, Herr,” said Hans, humbly. “It is in no spirit of idle curiosity that I speak; less still, with any wish to offend you. I will now see what is best to do. You may leave all in my hands, and by four o’clock, or five at furthest, you shall hear from me.”

“That’s sensible, – that’s friendly,” cried Dalton, shaking the other’s hand warmly, and really feeling the most sincere gratitude for the kindness.

If there was any act of friendship he particularly prized, it was the intervention that should relieve him of the anxiety and trouble of a difficult negotiation, and leave him, thoughtless and careless, to stroll about, neither thinking of the present nor uneasy for the future. The moment such an office had devolved upon another, Dalton felt relieved of all sense of responsibility before his own conscience; and although the question at issue were his own welfare or ruin, he ceased to think of it as a personal matter. Like his countryman, who consoled himself when the house was in flames by thinking “he was only a lodger,” he actually forgot his own share of peril by reflecting on the other interests that were at stake. And the same theory that taught him to leave his soul to his priest’s care, and his health to his doctor’s, made him quite satisfied when a friend had charge of his honor or his fortune.

It was as comfortable a kind of fatalism as need be; and, assuredly, to have seen Peter’s face as he now descended the steps to the lower town, it would be rash to deny that he was not a sincere believer in his philosophy. No longer absent in air and clouded in look, he had a smile and a pleasant word for all who passed him; and now, with a jest for this one, and a kreutzer for that, he held on his way, with a tail of beggars and children after him, all attracted by that singular mesmerism which draws around certain men everything that is vagrant and idle, – from the cripple at the crossing to the half-starved cur-dog without an owner.

This gift was, indeed, his; and whatever was penniless and friendless and houseless seemed to feel they had a claim on Peter Dalton.

CHAPTER XX. THE LAST STAKE OF ALL

Dalton found his little household on the alert at his return home; for Mrs. Ricketts had just received an express to inform her that her “two dearest friends on earth” were to arrive that evening in Baden, and she was busily engaged in arranging a little fête for their reception. All that poor Nelly knew of the expected guests was that one was a distinguished soldier, and the other a no less illustrious diplomatist; claims which, for the reader’s illumination, we beg to remark were embodied in the persons of Colonel Haggerstone and Mr. Foglass. Most persons in Mrs. Ricketts’s position would have entertained some scruples about introducing a reinforcement to the already strong garrison of the villa, and would have been disposed to the more humble but safe policy enshrined in the adage of “letting well alone.” But she had a spirit far above such small ambitions, and saw that the Dalton hospitalities were capable of what, in parliamentary phrase, is called a “most extended application.”

By the awestruck air of Nelly, and the overweening delight manifested by her father, Zoe perceived the imposing effect of great names upon both, and so successfully did she mystify the description of her two coming friends, that an uninterested listener might readily have set them down for the Duke and Prince Metternich, unless, indeed, that the praises she lavished on them would have seemed even excessive for such greatness. A triumphal arch was erected half-way up the avenue, over which, in flowery initials, were to be seen the letters “B.” and “P.,” symbols to represent “Bayard” and “Puffendorf;” under which guise Haggerstone and the Consul were to be represented. Strings of colored lamps were to be festooned along the approach, over which an Irish harp was to be exhibited in a transparency, with the very original inscription of “Caed Mille failtha,” in Celtic letters beneath.

The banquet – the word “dinner” was strictly proscribed for that day – was to be arrayed in the hall, where Dalton was to preside, if possible, with an Irish crown upon his head, supported by Nelly as the genius of Irish music; and Zoe herself in a composite character, – half empress, half prophetess, – a something between Sappho and the Queen of Sheba; Martha, for the convenience of her various household cares, was to be costumed as a Tyrolese hostess; and Purvis, in a dress of flesh-colored web, was to represent Mercury, sent on purpose from above to deliver a message of welcome to the arriving guests. As for the General, there was a great doubt whether he ought to be Belisarius or Suwarrow; for, being nearly as blind as the one and as deaf as the other, his qualifications were about evenly balanced.

If not insensible to some of the absurdities of this notable project, Dalton forgot the ridicule in the pleasanter occupation of the bustle, the movement, and the tumult it occasioned. It did his heart good to see the lavish waste and profusion that went forward. The kitchen-table, as it lay spread with fruit, fish, and game, might have made a study for Schneiders; and honest Peter’s face glowed with delight as he surveyed a scene so suggestive of convivial thoughts and dissipation.

“No doubt of it, Nelly,” said he; “but Mother Ricketts has grand notions! She does the thing like a princess!” The praise was so far well bestowed that there was something royal in dispensing hospitality without regarding the cost; while, at the same time, she never entertained the slightest sentiment of esteem for those in whose favor it was to be exercised. Among the very few things she feared in this world was Haggerstone’s “tongue,” which she herself averred was best conciliated by giving “occupation to his teeth.” The banquet was “got up” with that object, while it also gave a favorable opportunity of assuming that unbounded sway in Dalton’s household which should set the question of her supremacy at rest forever.

To this end was poor Martha engaged with puff-paste and jellies and whip-cream, with wreaths of roses and pyramids of fruit, from dawn till dusk. To this end was Purvis nearly driven out of his mind by endeavoring to get off by heart an address in rhyme, the very first line of which almost carried him off in a fit of coughing, – the word “Puffendorf” being found nearly as unmanageable to voice as it was unsuited to verse. While poor Belisarius, stripped of rule and compass, denied access to water-colors, Indian-ink, or charcoal, spent a most woful day of weary expectancy.

It was, indeed, an awful scene of trouble, fatigue, and exertion on every side, adding one more to those million instances where the preparation for the guest has no possible relation to the degree of esteem he is held in. For so is it in the world: our best receptions are decreed to those we care least for; our “friend” is condemned to the family dinner, while we lavish our fortune on mere acquaintances. In these days the fatted calf would not have been killed to commemorate the return of the prodigal, but have been melted down into mock-turtle, to feast “my Lord” or “Your Grace.”

The day wore on, and as the arrangements drew nearer to completion, the anxieties were turned towards the guests themselves, who were to have arrived at five o’clock. It was now six, and yet no sign of their coming! Fully a dozen times had Mrs. Ricketts called Martha from some household cares by the adjuration, “Sister Anne, sister Anne, seest thou nobody coming?” Mercury had twice ventured out on the high-road, from which he was driven back by a posse of hooting and laughing children; and Dalton himself paced up and down the terrace in a state of nervous impatience, not a little stimulated by hunger and certain flying visits he paid to the iced punch, to see if it was keeping cool.

There is, assuredly, little mesmeric relation between the expecting host and the lingering guest, or we should not witness all that we do of our friends’ unpunctuality in this life. What a want of sympathy between the feverish impatience of the one and the careless dalliance of the other! Not that we intend this censure to apply to the case before us, for Haggerstone had not the very remotest conception of the honors that awaited him, and jogged along his dusty road with no greater desire to be at the end of the journey than was fairly justifiable in one who travelled with German post-horses and Foglass for a companion.

Six o’clock came, and, after another hour of fretful anxiety, it struck seven. By this time beef had become carbon, and fowls were like specimens of lava; the fish was reduced to the state of a “purée,” while everything meant to assume the flinty resistance of ice was calmly settling down into a fluid existence. Many an architectural device of poor Martha’s genius was doomed to the fate of her other “castles,” and towers and minarets of skilful shape dropped off one by one, like the hopes of her childhood. All the telegraphic announcements from the kitchen were of disasters, but Mrs. Ricketts received the tidings with a Napoleonic calmness; and it was only when warned by the gathering darkness over Dalton* s brow that she thought it wiser to “give in.”

Dalton’s ill-humor had, however, a different source from that which she suspected. It proceeded from the quiet but steady importunity with which little Hans paced up and down before the door, now appearing before one window, now before another, totally insensible to the cold discouragement of Dalton’s looks, and evidently bent on paying no attention to all the signs and signals intended for his guidance.

“Doesn’t he see we’ve company in the house? Has n’t the little creature the sense to know that this is no time to be bothering and teasing about money? Has he no decency? Has he no respect for his superiors?” Such were the deep mutterings with which Dalton tried to “blow off the steam” of his indignation, while with many a gesture and motion he intimated his anger and impatience. “Faix! he ‘s like a bailiff out there,” cried he at last, as he issued forth to meet him. Whatever might have been the first angry impulses of his heart, his second thoughts were far more gentle and well disposed as he drew near to Hansèrl, who stood cap in hand, in an attitude of deep and respectful attention.

“They have accepted the bail, Herr von Dalton, and this bond needs but your signature,” said Hans, mildly, as he held forth a paper towards him.

“Who’s the bail? Give me the bond,” said Dalton, rapidly; and not waiting for the answer to his question, “Where’s the name to be, Hanserl?”

“Here, in the space,” said the dwarf, dryly.

“That ‘s soon done, if there’s no more wanting,” rejoined Peter, with a laugh. “‘T is seldom that writing the same two words cost me so little. Won’t you step in a minute, into the house? I ‘d ask you to stop and eat your dinner, but I know you don’t like strangers, and we have company to-day. Well, well, no offence; another time, maybe, when we ‘re alone. He ‘s as proud as the devil, that little chap,” muttered he, as he turned back within the house; “I never saw one of his kind that was n’t ‘T is only creatures with humpbacks and bent shins that never believes they can be wrong in this world; they have a conceit in themselves that’s wonderful! Not that there isn’t good in him, too; he’s a friendly soul as ever I seen! There it is, now. Peter Dalton’s hand and deed;” and he surveyed the superscription with considerable satisfaction. “There it is, Hans, and much good may it do you!” said he, as he delivered the document with an air of a prince conferring a favor on a subject.

“You will bear in mind that Abel Kraus is a hard creditor!” said Hans, who could not help feeling shocked at the easy indifference Dalton exhibited.

“Well, but haven’t we settled with him?” cried Peter, half impatiently.

“So far as surety for his claim goes – ”

“Yes, that’s what I mean, – he’s sure of his money; that’s all he wants. I ‘d be the well-off man to-day if I was sure of getting back all ever I lent! But nobody does, and, what’s more, nobody expects it.”

“This bond expires in twelve days,” added Hans, more than commonly anxious to suggest some prudential thoughts.

“Twelve days!” exclaimed Peter, who, instead of feeling alarmed at the shortness of the period, regarded it as so many centuries. “Many’s the change one sees in the world in twelve days. Would n’t you take something, – a glass of Marcobrunner, or a little plain Nantz?”

Hans made no reply, for, with bent-down head and hands crossed on his bosom, he was deep in thought.

“I ‘m saying, that maybe you’d drink a glass of wine, Hans?” repeated Dalton; but still no answer came. “What dreamy creatures them Germans are!” muttered Peter.

“And then,” exclaimed Hanserl, as if speaking to himself, “it is but beginning life anew. Good-bye – farewell.” And so saying, he touched his cap courteously, and moved hastily away, while Dalton continued to look after him with compassionate sorrow, for one so little capable of directing his path in life. As he re-entered the house, he found Mrs. Ricketts, abandoning all hopes of her distinguished guests, had just ordered the dinner; and honest Peter consoled himself for their absence by observing that they should be twice as jolly by themselves! Had it depended on himself alone, the sentiment might have had some foundation, for there was something of almost wild gayety in his manner. All the vicissitudes of the morning, the painful alternations of hope and fear, – hope so faint as to be a torture, and fear so dark as to be almost despair, – had worked him up to a state of extreme excitement.

To add to this, he drank deeply, quaffing off whole goblets of wine, and seeming to exult in the mad whirlwind of his own reckless jollity. If the jests he uttered on Scroope’s costume, or the other allegorical fancies of Zoe’s brain, were not of the most refined taste, they were at least heartily applauded by the indulgent public around his board. Mrs. Ricketts was in perfect ecstasies at the flashes of his “Irish wit;” and even Martha, fain to take on credit what was so worthily endorsed, laughed her own meek laugh of approval. As for Purvis, champagne completed what nature had but begun, and he became perfectly unintelligible ere dinner was over.

All this while poor Nelly’s sufferings were extreme; she saw the unblushing, shameless adulation of the parasites, and she saw, too, the more than commonly excited glare in her father’s eyes, – the wildness of fever rather than the passing excitation of wine. In vain, her imploring, beseeching glances were turned towards him; in vain she sought, by all her little devices, to withdraw him from the scene of riotous debauch, or recall him from the excesses of a revel which was an orgie. In his wild and boastful vein he raved about “home,” as he still called it, and of his family possessions, – at times vaunting of his wealth and greatness, and then, as suddenly breaking into mad invectives against the Jews and money-lenders, to whom his necessities had reduced him.

“A good run of luck over there!” cried he, frantically, and pointing to the blaze of lamps which now sparkled through the trees before the Cursaal. “One good night yonder, and Peter Dalton would defy the world. If you ‘re a lucky hand, Miss Martha, come over and bet for me. I ‘ll make the bank jump for it before I go to bed! I know the secret of it now. It’s changing from color to color ruins everybody. You must be steady to one, – black or red, whichever it is; stick fast to it. You lose two, three, maybe six or seven times running; never mind, go on still. ‘T is the same with play as with women, as the old song says, —

If they’re coy, and won’t hear when you say you adore,Just squeeze them the tighter and press them the more.”

“Isn’t that it, Mrs. Ricketts? Ah, baithershin! you never knew that song. Miss Martha’s blushing; and just for that I ‘ll back ‘red’ all the evening; and there’s the music beginning already. Here’s success to us all! and, faix! it’s a pleasant way to deserve it.”

Nelly drew near him as they were leaving the room, and, passing her arm fondly about him, whispered a few words in his ear.

“And why not this evening?” said he, aloud, and in a rude voice. “Is it Friday, that it ought to bring bad luck? Why should n’t I go this evening? I can’t hear you; speak louder. Ha! ha! ha! Listen to that, Miss Martha. There’s the sensible Nelly for you! She says she had a dhrame about me last night.”

“No, dearest papa; but that it was like a dream to me. All the narrative seemed so natural, – all the events followed so regularly, and yet I was awake just as I am now.”

“More shame for you, then. We can’t help ourselves what nonsense we think in our sleep.”

“But you’ll not go, dearest papa. You’ll indulge me for this once, and I ‘ll promise never to tease you by such follies again.”

“Faix! I’ll go, sure enough; and, what’s more, I’ll win five thousand pounds this night, as sure as my name’s Peter. I saw a black cat shaving himself before a new tin saucepan; and if that isn’t luck, I’d like to know what is. A black cat won the Curragh Stakes for Tom Molly; and it was an egg saucepan made Dr. Groves gain the twenty thousand pounds in the lottery. And so, now, may I never leave this room if I’d take two thousand pounds down for my chances to-night!”

And in all the force of this confidence in fortune, Dalton sallied forth to the Cursaal. The rooms were more than usually crowded, and it was with difficulty that, with Mrs. Ricketts on one arm and Martha on the other, he could force his way to the tables. Once there, however, a courteous reception awaited him, and the urbane croupier moved his own august chair to make room for the honored guest. Although the company was very numerous, the play was as yet but trifling; a stray gold piece here or there glittered on the board, and in the careless languor of the bankers, and the unexcited looks of the bystanders, might be read the fact that none of the well-known frequenters of the place were betting. Dalton’s appearance immediately created a sensation of curiosity. Several of those present had witnessed his losses on the preceding night, and were eager to see what course he would now pursue. It was remarked that he was not accompanied, as heretofore, by that formidable money-bag which, with ostentatious noise, he used to fling down on the table before him. Nor did he now produce that worn old leather pocket-book, whose bursting clasp could scarce contain the roll of bank-notes within it. He sat with his hands crossed before him, staring at the table, but to all seeming not noticing the game. At length, suddenly rousing himself, he leant over and said a few words, in a whisper, to the croupier, who, in an equally low tone, communicated with his colleague across the table. A nod and a smile gave the quiet reply; and Dalton, taking a piece of paper, scrawled a few figures on it with a pencil, and with a motion so rapid as to be unseen by many of the bystanders, the banker pushed several “rouleaux” of gold before Dalton, and went on with the game.

Dalton broke one of the envelopes, and as the glittering pieces fell out, he moved his fingers through them, as though their very touch was pleasure. At last, with a kind of nervous impatience, he gathered up a handful, and without counting, threw them on the table.

“How much?” said the croupier.

“The whole of it!” cried Dalton; and scarcely had he spoken, when he won.

A murmur of astonishment ran through the room as he suffered the double stake to remain on the board; which speedily grew into a loader ham of voices, as the banker proceeded to count out the gains of a second victory. Affecting an insight into the game and its chances which he did not possess, Dalton now hesitated and pondered over his bets, increasing his stake at one moment, diminishing it at another, and assuming all the practised airs of old and tried gamblers. As though in obedience to every caprice, the fortune of the game followed him unerringly. If he lost, it was some mere trifle; when he won, the stake was sure to be a large one. At length even this affected prudence – this mock skill – became too slow for him, and he launched out into all his accustomed recklessness. Not waiting to take in his winnings, he threw fresh handfuls of gold amongst them, till the bank, trembling for its safety, more than once had to reduce the stakes he wished to venture.