Francesca and I turned the gas entirely out, although we had been
sitting all the evening in a kind of twilight, and slipping on our
dressing-gowns sat again at the window for a farewell peep into the
past, present, and future of the 'Brighthelmston set.'
At midnight the dowager duchess arrived. She must at least have
been a dowager duchess, and if there is anything greater, within the
bounds of a reasonable imagination, she was that. Long streamers of
black tulle floated from a diamond soup-tureen which surmounted her
hair. Narrow puffings of white traversed her black velvet gown in
all directions, making her look somewhat like a railway map, and a
diamond fan-chain defined, or attempted to define, what was in its
nature neither definable nor confinable, to wit, her waist, or what
had been, in early youth, her waist.
The entire company was stirred by the arrival of the dowager
duchess, and it undoubtedly added new eclat to what was already a
fashionable event; for we counted three gentlemen who wore orders
glittering on ribbons that crossed the white of their immaculate
linen, and there was an Indian potentate with a jewelled turban who
divided attention with the dowager duchess's diamond soup-tureen.
At twelve-thirty Lord Brighthelmston chided Celandine for flirting
too much.
At twelve-forty Lady Brighthelmston reminded Violet (who was a
h'orphan niece) that the beautiful being in the white uniform was
not the eldest son.
At twelve-fifty there arrived an elderly gentleman, before whom the
servants bowed low. Lord Brighthelmston went to fetch Patricia, who
chanced to be sitting out a dance with Terence. The three came out
on the balcony, which was deserted, in the near prospect of supper,
and the personage - whom we suspected to be Patricia's godfather -
took from his waistcoat pocket a string of pearls, and, clasping it
round her white throat, stooped gently and kissed her forehead.
Then at one o'clock came supper. Francesca and I had secretly
provided for that contingency, and curling up on a sofa we drew
toward us a little table which Dawson had spread with a galantine of
chicken, some cress sandwiches, and a jug of milk.
At one-thirty we were quite overcome with sleep, and retired to our
beds, where of course we speedily grew wakeful.
"It is giving a ball, not going to one, that is so exhausting!"
yawned Francesca. "How many times have I danced all night with half
the fatigue that I am feeling now!"
The sound of music came across the street through the closed door of
our sitting-room. Waltz after waltz, a polka, a galop, then waltzes
again, until our brains reeled with the rhythm. As if this were not
enough, when our windows at the back were opened wide we were quite
within reach of Lady Durden's small dance, where another Hungarian
band discoursed more waltzes and galops.
