These were all men, and there was no want of women in Mrs. Lee’s parlour; but, after all, they are able to describe themselves better than any poor novelist can describe them.
Generally two currents of conversation ran on together—one round Sybil, the other about Madeleine.
“Mees Ross,” said Count Popoff, leading in a handsome young foreigner, “I have your permission to present to you my friend Count Orsini, Secretary of the Italian Legation. Are you at home this afternoon? Count Orsini sings also.”
“We are charmed to see Count Orsini. It is well you came so late, for I have this moment come in from making Cabinet calls. They were so queer! I have been crying with laughter for an hour past.”
“Do you find these calls amusing?” asked Popoff, gravely and diplomatically.
“Indeed I do! I went with Julia Schneidekoupon, you know, Madeleine; the Schneidekoupons are descended from all the Kings of Israel, and are prouder than Solomon in his glory. And when we got into the house of some dreadful woman from Heaven knows where, imagine my feelings at overhearing this conversation: ‘What may be your family name, ma’am?’ ‘Schneidekoupon is my name,’ replies Julia, very tall and straight. ‘Have you any friends whom I should likely know?’ ‘I think not,’ says Julia, severely. ‘Wal! I don’t seem to remember of ever having heerd the name. But I s’pose it’s all right. I like to know who calls.’ I almost had hysterics when we got into the street, but Julia could not see the joke at all.”
Count Orsini was not quite sure that he himself saw the joke, so he only smiled becomingly and showed his teeth. For simple, childlike vanity and self-consciousness nothing equals an Italian Secretary of Legation at twenty-five. Yet conscious that the effect of his personal beauty would perhaps be diminished by permanent silence, he ventured to murmur presently: “Do you not find it very strange, this society in America?”
“Society!” laughed Sybil with gay contempt. “There are no snakes in America, any more than in Norway.”
“Snakes, mademoiselle!” repeated Orsini, with the doubtful expression of one who is not quite certain whether he shall risk walking on thin ice, and decides to go softly: “Snakes! Indeed they would rather be doves I would call them.”
A kind laugh from Sybil strengthened into conviction his hope that he had made a joke in this unknown tongue. His face brightened, his confidence returned; once or twice he softly repeated to himself: “Not snakes; they would be doves!”
But Mrs. Lee’s sensitive ear had caught Sybil’s remark, and detected in it a certain tone of condescension which was not to her taste. The impassive countenances of these bland young Secretaries of Legation seemed to acquiesce far too much as a matter of course in the idea that there was no society except in the old world. She broke into the conversation with an emphasis that fluttered the dovecote:
“Society in America? Indeed there is society in America, and very good society too; but it has a code of its own, and newcomers seldom understand it. I will tell you what it is, Mr. Orsini, and you will never be in danger of making any mistake. ‘Society’ in America means all the honest, kindly-mannered, pleasant-voiced women, and all the good, brave, unassuming men, between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Each of these has a free pass in every city and village, ‘good for this generation only,’ and it depends on each to make use of this pass or not as it may happen to suit his or her fancy. To this rule there are no exceptions, and those who say ‘Abraham is our father’ will surely furnish food for that humour which is the staple product of our country.”
The alarmed youths, who did not in the least understand the meaning of this demonstration, looked on with a feeble attempt at acquiescence, while Mrs. Lee brandished her sugar-tongs in the act of transferring a lump of sugar to her cup, quite unconscious of the slight absurdity of the gesture, while Sybil stared in amazement, for it was not often that her sister waved the stars and stripes so energetically. Whatever their silent criticisms might be, however, Mrs. Lee was too much in earnest to be conscious of them, or, indeed, to care for anything but what she was saying. There was a moment’s pause when she came to the end of her speech, and then the thread of talk was quietly taken up again where Sybil’s incipient sneer had broken it.
Carrington came in. “What have you been doing at the Capitol?” asked Madeleine.
“Lobbying!” was the reply, given in the semi-serious tone of Carrington’s humour.
“So soon, and Congress only two days old?” exclaimed Mrs. Lee.
“Madam,” rejoined Carrington, with his quietest malice, “Congressmen are like birds of the air, which are caught only by the early worm.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lee. Miss Sybil, how do you do again? Which of these gentlemen’s hearts are you feeding upon now?” This was the refined style of Mr. French, indulging in what he was pleased to term “badinaige.” He, too, was on his way from the Capitol, and had come in for a cup of tea and a little human society. Sybil made a
